Page 67 of A Dance of Lies

“The first thing that comes to mind,” he says, nudging me with his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Power,” I blurt. “Because there’s power in it.” Power in commandingthe attention of my audience, a power I lack in every other area of my life.

But that isn’t the whole of it, either. And it’s as if Anton knows, because he watches me steadily, waiting, and it makes me so angry, soseen,that I shove the rest at him, ready to be done with it. “And because it makes me feel less alone.”

And now he will no doubt dissect every word. Heat crowds my cheeks, and I straighten, poised to walk away, when he says, “I drink because I cannot otherwise quiet my mind. Because I, too, feel alone. Because I want and wish for many things I cannot have, and that, Minnow, drives me absolutely wild.”

The breadth of his answer startles me.

But I say, merely, “Another way of telling me you are spoiled, then.”

Once again, my self-control has slipped.

He grins, leaning in. “Spoiled, pretentious, and far too wealthy. And devilishly fetching, I should add.”

I barely resist an eye roll. “Then what, exactly, can younothave?”

His eyes travel over me at that, but then he merely frowns at his drink. “At the moment? More wine.”

“Deflective.”

Even so, I run his words through my mind again. He revealed more than I did, if only I could understandhow.

“I am flattered by your curiosity,” he says, chin inching up. “And by that adorable little blush.”

I throw a hand to my cheek before I can stop it, a futile attempt to halt the rising warmth. It grates on my nerves even more. “I amnotcurious, and I’m merely overheated.”

“You are blushing even more ardently now. Don’t worry, Minnow. I take it only as the highest tier of compliments.”

“With such dazzling confidence, Sire, I’m surprised you haven’t constructed a statue or several in your honor.”

“By the Fates, you’re right. I should pose for one at once.”

“Alongside your stacks of gold—”

“And preferably in the nude.”

“—with a companion draped across your lap.”

“Generous of you to offer,” he says.

A growl travels up my throat, along with a score of insults. It takes all my willpower to clamp my tongue and walk away.

Especially as his chuckle skitters down my back as I do.

The day before our big performance, whispers haunt the halls. At long last, King Estienne, Illian’s older brother, has arrived.

I’m told he’s in a foul mood after his delay, when Copelan informs me that I will be entertaining him this evening.

Before retrieving the last-minute costume Annais is stitching, I stop by the kitchen to grab her lunch.

Marian is there.

She greets me with a hug, which I’m not prepared for. When I tell her what I’m looking for, and how much, she tells me to wait where I am. “I’ll fetch a few platters I saved from a banquet.”

The moment she disappears, the kitchen doors fly open and two Brisendali guards stalk in.

They are trailed by the general.