Page 52 of To Dance with Death

Might not be able to bear the contrast between the Anton I knew and the Anton I see here if I am forced to confront too much more.

But then I recognize that for the lie it is.

Harden your heart.

Turn it to stone.

It is the only way.

“I do not remember dismissing you.”

Startled from my thoughts, I whirl to find Anton feet away, the nighttime aurora making peridots of his eyes.

I had thought Sundar might follow. But not Anton.

It takes me a moment before I find my voice. “Our deal was that I would dance for you, Majesty. Not that I would participate in the revelry afterward.” I am careful not to lift the veil off my heart, to reveal the pain sitting heavily underneath my breastbone.

“That dance,” he says. “It was meant to entice me, no? Or capture my attention, at the very least. Congratulations on a job well done.”

You have indeed captured my attention,he had once said. And after, he had sought me out much like this.

“Not everyone is vying for your affections, Sire,” I say, forcing a flippancy I do not feel.

“You knew very well what you were doing.”

Watching him as I did—it was a mistake. But I’d been so angry. “Believe what you will,” I say, nudging past him and back toward the palace, intent on escaping him before I break altogether.

His fingers close around the bud of my shoulder. “Wait.”

I merely angle my head, but he spins me all the way around.

“You might as well try.”

I keep my eyes trained on the waterfall. “Try what?”

“If Sadira put you to the task of seducing me, then will you not at leasttry?”

At this, I jerk my head up and pull from his grip. “Do you meanto insult me? I am not interested in whatever leftovers you might offer after you have your way with every soul in your vicinity.”

“I—” He shuts his mouth. Licks his lips.

He’s shucked off his robe, I realize, wearing only a thin, sleeveless vest, the hammered brass bands encircling his biceps catching that dim, bluish light and tossing it about. Like what he might have worn on Anell.

“Do not misunderstand me, Sire,” I say. “Every night, I will dance for you. And in turn, you will hold to your vow to let me stay without alerting Moranya to my presence. Let that be the extent of our interaction, YourGloriousness.” It hurts to say it.

He barely reacts. Instead an amused brow inches up. “And now you are angry with me. Why?”

“I—I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I amnot.”

“Swear it on your stepmother’s good name. On her very soul.” At my obvious exasperation, a smile dawns on his lips. “Ah, you cannot. Tell me my offense so that I might have the means to defend myself.”

I blow out a breath. “Are you happy here? Is this really the type of life you want?”

“What’s not to like?” he says. “I am afforded any luxury I desire.”