The Queen's Assassin (Queen's Secret #1) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,103
with him,” Shadow says. “So which one is the one?”
“Does it matter? Once he sees you looking like that, I have a feeling he’ll let you skip to the front of the queue,” Cal says.
Shadow looks at him out of the corner of her eye.
“What?” he says.
“Nothing,” she answers.
“Tell me,” he insists.
“You are full of compliments tonight.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, it’s just . . . you’ve never noticed before. How I look.”
How could I not? Every man in here does. “That’s not true,” he says. “It’s just that you look different this evening.”
“Just different?” But there is a teasing lilt to her tone and not the hostility from the other day.
“You look very pretty,” he admits finally.
“I’ll accept it,” she says with a smug smile.
A nobleman in an outfit like Cal’s comes toward them. “Uh-oh. Here we go,” Shadow mutters to Cal.
The man holds out his hand to Shadow. “May I have this dance?”
She accepts his hand. He leads her to the dance floor. She looks back at Cal with a pleading expression. He puts his hands up. What can I do? he mouths. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at him just as the nobleman swings her around and sweeps her away into the crowd.
Cal moves to the edges of the room and stays in the shadows, as far from the dance floor as he can while still observing the guests. His gaze sweeps the room and settles on two men in the opposite corner, deep in conversation. He follows their gaze toward King Hansen. He must get closer to them, but it’s almost impossible to concentrate on them when he’s so distracted.
Shadow twirls by, holding her skirt up so that it billows out even farther, led by another member of Montrice’s lesser nobility. This one appears to be respecting her space, at least. She is smiling politely but keeps looking around the room. Another nobleman cuts in. She isn’t going to have a moment alone at this rate—they all want her attention, however brief. And who can blame them? She’s practically glowing tonight.
Her face is fresh, natural, and she holds herself with a charming forthrightness. No one would ever guess she’s a beekeeper’s ward, let alone an apprentice assassin.
Shadow glides by again, with a new dance partner. More are waiting at the sidelines, itching to step in. They all think they’re wooing the titled heiress to a substantial foreign estate. Cal’s amused at the thought of them finding out who she really is.
The vizier spots Cal and rushes over to him, his loyal footman close behind. “Lord Holton! I have found you at last. Here, come with me. You must dance with the finest ladies of Montrice! I know, I know, you said you are already betrothed, but you never know, do you? And there’s nothing wrong with having some fun, is there?”
Cal resists, trying to beg the vizier off, make him go away. “Grand Vizier, you are too kind, but I have just arrived and would like to get my bearings.”
Although if he’s being honest, the only person he wants to dance with is Shadow. The vizier is correct, there are many beautiful young ladies attending the ball, but he only sees one.
The room feels suffocating, spinning. It’s too hot and there are too many people; too many faces appraising him, ready and willing to pounce. He’s hardly been here a week and he’s overwhelmed with all of it, especially the petty intrigues and social demands. He wishes he were back in the mountains with Shadow. Even when they argued or struggled, at least he felt alive. In control of himself. He doesn’t feel that way now. He feels empty. He needs to finish the task that has been ordered of him: Uncover the conspiracy and continue his search for the scrolls. He’s not here for parties and feasting and social intrigue, and he’s not here to fall in love either.
But it’s far too late for that.
He is mad for her, anyone could see that—does she? Does she feel