Page 22 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

“Good eye,” he replied. “That’s Lady Philippa Greenwood, Keeper of the Royal Purse. And to her left is Sir Killian Raltisse, Master at Arms. I’m sure you’ve seen him stomping around. Hard to miss that mustache. Then there’s Victoria, Keeper of Secrets.” I spotted a vampiress dressed in all black, standing flush against the opposite wall. She watched the guests with bright yellow eyes like an alley cat. In her hand, she held a crystal goblet that never touched her lips.

“Victoria of?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” he said, grinning. “She’s that good.”

I chuckled. Scanning the room, my gaze snagged on a vampire with inky-black hair who stood not far from us. A crystal goblet dangled idly from his hand as he sent the small crowd gathered around him into fits of hysterical laughter. I suspected it had nothing to do with his sense of humor.

There was something familiar about him, I thought, as my eyes traced the straight line of his nose and the sharp angles of his cheekbones. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. His dark green doublet reminded me of the evergreens dotting the castle downs, the fabric tailored perfectly to his lean frame. He wore no crown, but it was clear from the effortless way he held the attention of the crowd that he was important. He inclined his chin, catching my gaze with brilliant green eyes.

Shit. I ducked my head.

“May I have this dance?” the King asked, catching me off guard.

“If that means the introductions are over, then I don’t see why not,” I quipped.

He beamed. “It does, only because Wilhelmina, Frederick’s wife, will have spread the news of your arrival at court from here to Bard by the time the song is over.”

“I see,” I replied.

“Are you familiar with the Gaspard?” he asked.

I glanced at the minstrels who stood at attention beside the dance floor, their fiddles and flutes poised as if awaiting the King’s command. The only dancing I had ever done was on feast days in the village. It involved an awful lot of spinning and singing at the top of your lungs, but was probably entirely undignified by Valnarian standards. “It’s a couple’s dance,” I said. “I’ve heard that it’s popular at these kinds of events, but I’m afraid I’ve never tried it.”

He took my hand, pulling me onto the dance floor. “It’s customary for the king to lead the first dance,” he explained, nodding at the fiddle player. “The lady typically follows the gentleman.”

Courtiers gathered at the edge of the dance floor as the King smiled and gently lifted my hand to his shoulder. My heart fluttered as his own slid to my waist, my fingers curling where they lay against the rich fabric of his doublet. As the harpist’s first note drifted into the air, we began to circle the ballroom.

He was a natural, or at the very least expertly practiced, leading me effortlessly around the room. Many of the courtiers soon joined us, whirling around us in a cacophony of brilliant colors. Others watched from the edge of the dance floor, clapping in time with the music. My breathing steadied as we moved, relaxing into the rhythm of the song. A laugh escaped me as he lifted me off my feet, the room blurring until it was just the two of us. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

As the song ended, the crowd erupted into applause, cheering wildly as the minstrels took their bows. My breathing labored, I managed a smile as the other dancers passed, each taking their turn to bow or curtsey to the King. But his attention was not upon them. Instead, a peculiar expression rippled across his features as he gazed down at me, his grip on my waist still firm. My cheeks grew warm, what little space there was between us taut like a drawn bowstring. His lips parted as if to speak when a wave of courtiers crashed down upon us. Reluctantly, I dropped his hand, clasping my own safely behind my back.

Once the crowd dissipated, King Mordric cleared his throat. “You make a fine dance partner.”

I bowed my head. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

He plucked a pair of wine goblets off of a passing tray, offering one to me. I sipped cautiously, wary of losing my head in this crowd.

“Care to accompany me outside for some fresh air?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts. I flashed a smile and nodded, looping my hand through his outstretched arm.

The moon bathed us in its silver light as we ducked onto the nearby terrace. I could still hear the muffled music and the excited hum of conversation in the ballroom, but it was a relief to be free of the crowd for a moment. I took a deep breath, drawing the frosty evening air into my lungs.

“I’m impressed by how you handled yourself in there,” said the King. “It’s almost as if you’ve been at court for years.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” I replied, running my nail along the coarse stone railing.

“Liar.”

I blanched, but relaxed as his face broke into a grin. “Alright,” I conceded. “I actually don’t think my palms have stopped sweating all night.”

He chuckled. “They’re not an easy crowd, I’ll admit.”

I ducked my head. “This is so unlike anything I’ve ever done before.”

“The ball?”

I nodded. “Sometimes some of the neighboring villages would come together to celebrate the autumn equinox, but that’s about the closest I’ve ever gotten to a ball. And even then, the whole thing would be entirely out of doors.”

“I imagine the Outlands must be very beautiful in autumn. I’ve only ever ventured as far as Bard, I’ll admit.”