head. “The set is ending. I’d best meet her before she tracks me down. Again.”
She nodded, numb from the onslaught of conflicting emotions. Rhyian paused, then picked up her hand once more, holding it in both of his, running his thumb thoughtfully over the back, lifting a black-winged brow. “She’s like my little sister, too, Salena,” he said softly. “And I only tolerated her because of you.”
Lena nodded, feeling stiff and awkward—and like a total idiot. “I’ll see if I can find Gendra. Talk to her.”
“You’re a good friend. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.” He bowed, his lips whispering over her skin in sensual promise and memory. “The next dance is ours,” he said, and strode off, a lethal sword of darkness slicing through the crowd.
~ 7 ~
“You look so handsome tonight, Prince Rhyian,” Bethany cooed breathlessly. Only the fact that she kept craning her neck to see if her friends were watching them kept Rhy from escaping the girl’s clutches to go find Salena again.
Salena, who hadn’t changed at all and who’d changed entirely. It was as if they’d been together only that morning and as if she was someone he’d never met at the same time. Fascinating, infuriating, endlessly seductive. The person who could both call him on his shit and make him laugh. How had he managed all these years without her in his life?
“Prince Rhyian?”
“You know I’m not really a prince,” he chided. “The Tala don’t have a hereditary monarchy.” Most of the time that didn’t bother him. Rhy’s parents were hale and hearty—and more than capable of ruling Annfwn. But having mossbacks call him “prince” only reminded him of how truly pointless his life was. All of his friends had goals and fine aspirations, and he had… nothing of note. No wonder Salena found him so contemptible.
“I think you aren’t listening to me at all.”
He looked down to find Bethany pouting, and gave her a charming grin that wouldn’t fool Salena for a moment. “So much noise and so many walls. It’s hard on us Tala, you know.”
Her brown eyes sparkled, and she gave him a coy look from under her dark lashes. “Then let’s get you out of this noise and go somewhere we can be alone,” she breathed.
Uh-oh. Far too late, he realized he was being well and truly stalked. He’d been so offended by Salena’s accusations that he hadn’t given credence to her warning. Also, he had no idea how to handle this, especially when he spotted King Nakoa KauPo—darling Bethany’s truly terrifying father—searching the dancers and pinning Rhy with his menacing gaze. The crowd parted as the king strode toward them, and Rhy turned Bethany in the dance so she could see. “I think someone is looking for you,” he said.
Bethany blanched, chewing her lip in girlish dismay. “Oh no! What do I do? He told me I’m too young to dance with men yet, but I’m not!”
Internally, Rhy sighed. Surely he could’ve avoided this somehow. Maybe by listening to Salena, an internal voice whispered. “I’ll handle this,” he told her, wondering when he’d become the adult and responsible one.
He danced her toward the sidelines, in Nakoa’s direction so the king wouldn’t take alarm thinking they meant to dodge him, then halted. He bowed gallantly to Bethany, waiting until Nakoa reached them to say, “Thank you for rescuing me, Princess Bethany Nakoa KauPo. I know you said you couldn’t dance, but you did so beautifully. Greetings, Your Highness.” Rhy transferred the bow to the king, certain he heard a low rumble of thunderous displeasure.
“Your devoted mother seeks your pleasant company, kiki,” Nakoa said, barely sparing the girl a glance as he stared down Rhy. Down being the operative word, as the King of Nahanau stood a good head taller than Rhy, who was far from short. Nakoa also outweighed Rhy by a considerable amount. If the man were a barrel, Rhy could fit himself inside. And Nakoa was an accomplished warrior besides. Rhy’s only hope of surviving a fight with the man would be to shapeshift—and then his parents would kill him for causing a diplomatic incident. There was no win here.
“Yes, Muku,” Bethany squeaked, abandoning Rhy to disappear into the crush with impressive agility and a noteworthy absence of concern for Rhy.
Rhy bowed to Nakoa, holding the pose a moment to show respect—he hoped—then straightened. “Happy Feast of Moranu, Your Highness.”
King Nakoa KauPo studied him with a stern expression, one as thunderous as the storms he could summon with