caught her ear. She blinked, startled, and ground to a halt. “The music stopped.” An instant burn ignited in her cheeks. Goddess, the pair of them looked like fools.
She turned her gaze back to him and almost huffed at his expression. From the satisfied gleam in his eyes, he’d heard the song conclude, but had kept her in his arms. Of course he wouldn’t care about looking foolish. He was a prince in this land. He set the trends and blazed the trails while the entire Republic watched. She couldn’t afford to be dragged into his games.
A flash of light sprang from a reporter’s short wand as he recorded their image for his newspaper. Applause smattered around the ballroom in appreciation for their show.
Edmund tucked her hand into his elbow and led her off the floor, stopping ten paces from Senator Rallis. Dear goddess. The senator. And his son. On the other side of her, Edmund’s brother stood with his woman. The pair was unmarried. Instead, they were mated by a weave of power. The entire Republic knew that bit of gossip.
For the moment, the Rallis family seemed content to keep their distance. Aurora looked away. Staring at them would only encourage them to venture closer.
While the nosy crowd pressed closer, a waiter walked up with two glasses of amber liquid. No need to search out the bar. The drinks came to them. Of course, they did. Because that was how life worked for the founding families. Edmund took both glasses as two men in dark gray uniforms, scarlet sashes crossing their chest, took up guard on either side of them. Rallis sentries. The crowd took a collective step back. Privacy under the gaze of the public.
With an easy smile, Edmund handed her a glass. The drink’s sharp scent caught her nose, a blend of heat and spice that kindled memories of kisses in the moonlight. His smile widened. Recognition must have crossed her face. This wasn’t the expensive stuff the crowd would expect.
During their weekend together, he’d poured her a drink of Bare Witch’s Whiskey. In fact, they’d consumed half the bottle. He’d made her coffee over the fire the next morning to soothe away her headache.
She narrowed her eyes, drilling a hole in the memories. “So, what’s it gonna be, Mundie? What does the heir toast to now? Screw the rules, like before? Or is it screw the rest; we’re the best?”
He tipped his head to the side, the answer to her question clear in his face. She supposed it was inevitable, yet he’d broken the rules for her by destroying evidence. He’d protected her…and left her craving more. A dangerous and impossible desire. His arms would become a noose around her neck.
He lifted his glass higher and once again projected his voice so it rang to every mage in the ballroom. “To my earth-bound star who shines her light among the dark.” He touched his glass to hers as the “hear, hears” resounded around them.
The attention smoldered against her skin, though she wasn’t ashamed of the accuracy of his statement. She’d rather glow like the moon soaking up the proud night than sear the darkness like the sun. She held his gaze and downed her drink. The burn slid down her throat, heating the rest of her as well. But he wasn’t done with his toast.
“And to my new mission of keeping you out of trouble.” He kept those words between them.
Oh, she was in trouble all right. “You’ve only caused me more with this ball. We both know that wasn’t an invitation you issued.” No, it had been an order.
Edmund laughed. “And you, my little rebel, dared to wear black.”
“I’m not a rebel.” She forced the words through gritted teeth. Despite two men in two days accusing her of such, she knew her heart. The only desire that lived there was for life for all.
“An enchantress who lives with dark mages and who wears black to a white ball.” He laughed again. “Princess, your rebel heart practically vibrates with its own fight song. But this,” he gestured at the crowd,
She turned her gaze back to him and almost huffed at his expression. From the satisfied gleam in his eyes, he’d heard the song conclude, but had kept her in his arms. Of course he wouldn’t care about looking foolish. He was a prince in this land. He set the trends and blazed the trails while the entire Republic watched. She couldn’t afford to be dragged into his games.
A flash of light sprang from a reporter’s short wand as he recorded their image for his newspaper. Applause smattered around the ballroom in appreciation for their show.
Edmund tucked her hand into his elbow and led her off the floor, stopping ten paces from Senator Rallis. Dear goddess. The senator. And his son. On the other side of her, Edmund’s brother stood with his woman. The pair was unmarried. Instead, they were mated by a weave of power. The entire Republic knew that bit of gossip.
For the moment, the Rallis family seemed content to keep their distance. Aurora looked away. Staring at them would only encourage them to venture closer.
While the nosy crowd pressed closer, a waiter walked up with two glasses of amber liquid. No need to search out the bar. The drinks came to them. Of course, they did. Because that was how life worked for the founding families. Edmund took both glasses as two men in dark gray uniforms, scarlet sashes crossing their chest, took up guard on either side of them. Rallis sentries. The crowd took a collective step back. Privacy under the gaze of the public.
With an easy smile, Edmund handed her a glass. The drink’s sharp scent caught her nose, a blend of heat and spice that kindled memories of kisses in the moonlight. His smile widened. Recognition must have crossed her face. This wasn’t the expensive stuff the crowd would expect.
During their weekend together, he’d poured her a drink of Bare Witch’s Whiskey. In fact, they’d consumed half the bottle. He’d made her coffee over the fire the next morning to soothe away her headache.
She narrowed her eyes, drilling a hole in the memories. “So, what’s it gonna be, Mundie? What does the heir toast to now? Screw the rules, like before? Or is it screw the rest; we’re the best?”
He tipped his head to the side, the answer to her question clear in his face. She supposed it was inevitable, yet he’d broken the rules for her by destroying evidence. He’d protected her…and left her craving more. A dangerous and impossible desire. His arms would become a noose around her neck.
He lifted his glass higher and once again projected his voice so it rang to every mage in the ballroom. “To my earth-bound star who shines her light among the dark.” He touched his glass to hers as the “hear, hears” resounded around them.
The attention smoldered against her skin, though she wasn’t ashamed of the accuracy of his statement. She’d rather glow like the moon soaking up the proud night than sear the darkness like the sun. She held his gaze and downed her drink. The burn slid down her throat, heating the rest of her as well. But he wasn’t done with his toast.
“And to my new mission of keeping you out of trouble.” He kept those words between them.
Oh, she was in trouble all right. “You’ve only caused me more with this ball. We both know that wasn’t an invitation you issued.” No, it had been an order.
Edmund laughed. “And you, my little rebel, dared to wear black.”
“I’m not a rebel.” She forced the words through gritted teeth. Despite two men in two days accusing her of such, she knew her heart. The only desire that lived there was for life for all.
“An enchantress who lives with dark mages and who wears black to a white ball.” He laughed again. “Princess, your rebel heart practically vibrates with its own fight song. But this,” he gestured at the crowd,
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