believe I’m painfully shy?” Show or no show, his smirk nearly strangles me. No matter how many men I’ve talked to tonight, I haven’t once been able to get Bastian out of my head. I’ve compared every new face to his. Every voice to the way his words make my stomach flip. Every pair of eyes to the way I enjoy looking at his. So far, no one has been even comparable.
But Elias is at least similar. So much so that if I don’t look at him too closely or listen too intently, he could make for a wonderful distraction.
“Did you know that the name Amora means beautiful sun?” Without having taken a sip, he’s switched out his bubbly for blood-red wine. “That’s even what you look like, too. Radiant and beautiful, like a giant ball of sunlight.”
I meant to take only a nursing sip of wine so as to keep my head straight, but I choke as I tilt the glass back, accidentally swallowing a giant mouthful that nearly comes out of my nose. “Blood of the gods, where did you hear that?”
A coy smile plays upon Elias’s lips. “I didn’t. But that’s what it should mean.”
And gods do I laugh, even if it’s mostly from the alcohol and the ridiculousness of my burning nose.
“Just how many times have you tried to woo a girl with that ridiculous line?” I give him a teasing elbow to his gut, and he rubs at it with a deep laugh.
“I promise that one was crafted specifically for you.”
Music swells in the air around us, no longer excruciatingly soft and slow. It kicks up enough that others find their way onto a makeshift dance floor set up upon the sand, looking so bemused that I’d believe they’ve never before danced. When I peek at Elias, about to ask him to join me, his hand is already stretched toward me.
“Ladies I’ve danced with in the past have told me I have two left feet,” he says with a crooked grin, “but I’ve never been certain if I should believe them. Do you feel qualified to make that assessment?”
Smooth talker, this one.
I don’t stop to consider the offer because if I do, I might think better of it. I should be moving on to the next person, hunting down Ornell. But maybe it’s because I know I need to put on a show, or perhaps because he just made me laugh so hard that I nearly choked. Or, maybe it’s because he reminds me of Bastian, or how during the night back on Arida when I’d faked my magic for the advisers, he was the one who hadn’t turned away in horror. Whatever the reason, I take his hand.
All eyes are on us as he leads me to the dance floor, including, I’m sure, Bastian’s. But I don’t let myself think about him.
I stiffen when Elias sets his hands on my hips, goose bumps fleshing their way up my skin. I set one hand on the arm that holds my waist, and the other on his broad shoulder, stepping closer into him. The music, while faster than it’s been previously, is still slow and elegant enough to keep us in each other’s arms.
Elias’s grip is strong and comfortable, familiar even when he’s not. I find myself relaxing into it as we dance, the world slowly morphing into a blur of lights and jewels. Elias certainly does not have two left feet; he’s an excellent dancing partner, and an even better conversationalist. At first I’m able to keep up with his wit, but the longer we dance, the more sluggish and jellylike my limbs become. My feet slow and the blur of lights and jewels is no longer beautiful, but painful enough to make me squint. Even when I stop moving, the world around me continues to spin.
Stars, I must have had more alcohol than I thought.
The moment the song is finished, I pull away from Elias, breathless and clammy. This isn’t my first time drinking; I know what it feels like when I’m getting too close to my limit. I made sure to eat and pace myself, but it must not have been well enough.
“I have to stop,” I manage to grit out. “I’m so sorry.”
Though his eyes widen a bit, I’m glad to see Elias doesn’t look offended. “Don’t worry about it. You’re looking ill, though. Is there something I can—”
I shake my head, not wanting him to see me like this. “You’re a