Apollo caught my eyes as we moved away and I smiled at him.
His lips curved up, his face got soft and then he looked to the Drakkars and the softness vanished.
I’d lied about being famished, of course. My stomach was in knots. But I did my best not to show it as Ravenscroft (his first name was Norfolk), guided me around the food tables, sharing with me his favorite nibbles, all of which I tried.
And when I did, I decided it sucked my stomach was in knots because if I wasn’t in a creepy castle with icky people all around, I knew I would find them all tasty.
I was thinking that when Norfolk put his hand to my elbow and squeezed.
“Come away,” he whispered urgently, his mouth suddenly at my ear.
I turned to look up at him in surprise, infinitely aware and cautious, as Apollo’s warnings and creepy castles made me be, and his sudden demand concerned me.
My eyes slid to Apollo, who was talking with Eirik (an Eirik who was staring beyond Apollo even though Apollo was speaking to him, and when I glanced, I saw it was at a woman’s décolletage) and Valeria, whose attention was pinpointed on Apollo, her expression giving me a chill.
I looked back at Norfolk, who was putting pressure on my arm.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to remain here,” I told him.
“Then remain close,” he told me, fairly yanking me to his side, his eyes not on me but over my shoulder.
I looked there just as Franka Drakkar murmured a purring, “Norfolk.”
But her eyes were on me.
Oh boy.
Here we go.
I straightened my shoulders.
“Who do we have here?” She kept purring before Norfolk could return her greeting.
“Franka,” Norfolk stated tersely. “This is Lady Madeleine. Madeleine,”—he looked down at me—“I present Franka Drakkar, cousin to Calder.”
“Cousin to The Frey,” she corrected, an edge to her voice, her meaning clear. She had that powerful connection; she was not to be trifled with.
Frey was known as The Frey and The Drakkar. The first meant he commanded the elves, the second, dragons.
In other words, a very powerful connection.
“And cousin to Frey Drakkar,” Norfolk bit out, humanizing Frey and telling her, I guessed, to go f**k herself.
“Lovely to meet you,” I murmured into the exchange, deciding to be rude and not offer my hand.
“Oh, agreed,” she whispered in a way that I could swear sounded suggestive.
“We’re to dance,” Norfolk declared and that was a good gambit to get us away from this obviously vile woman but still, my heart lurched.
I wanted to get away from her but I’d seen the dancing. They weren’t swaying to rock ballads (which I could do, no sweat) or waltzing a basic box step (which I could try to do and might have a small chance of not making a fool of myself doing it). No, each dance had steps, some seemed complicated, but it wouldn’t matter because I knew none of them.
Franka’s eyes moved to Norfolk. “But I’ve just met this lovely specimen,” she protested. Her gaze came back and at the wicked look in her dancing eyes, I felt my neck get tight. “Or have I? You seem very familiar.”
Bitch.
“She is of Ilsa’s blood,” Norfolk put in curtly.
“Of her blood or is her blood?” Franka asked, not looking from me, her voice saccharine sweet.