Bloodguard

chapter 31

Maeve

“Gladiators don’t dance,” Leith tells me flatly.

It’s been a few days since the night of the parade, when I fell asleep beside him on the couch in my bedroom.

I think he was expecting something else when I told him to come with me this evening. He didn’t protest when I led him to the manor house for my father’s dinner party. Truth be told, with his mouth on mine, I’d been thinking of something else, too.

I’m still thinking of those things.

I close my eyes and imagine his strong hands streaking across my skin, his mouth following. I rub my legs together, a delicious ache throbbing at my core.

Leith’s mouth curves into that little smirk like he can sense what I’m imagining.

But this soiree is one my father planned, and I want Leith to be here with us.

He turns from where Father’s mastery of the lute sweeps a melodious tune through the open glass doors. The sun has started its descent, painting the faded dark wood of the manor’s exterior in hues of peach and gold.

It bathes Leith, making his hair shine and eyes sparkle. All in black, he remains this imposing, unyielding force of wrath. Except now that we’ve kissed, I know he does yield, at least to me.

“You said supper, Princess. Not dancing. ‘Dancing’ never came out of your mouth.”

I wag a finger at him. “You’re in another embarrassingly cheery mood again, aren’t you?”

The way his thumb grazes over the back of my hand broadens my smile. He bends to kiss my cheek.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he says, and my whole body flushes.

He looks ahead, his eyes focused on a distant point.

“I need to be a Bloodguard,” he whispers, his lips brushing the top of my head. I start to nod, but then his next words hold me in place. “I need to be your king.”

“Yes, you do,” I whisper.

His smile fades as we pass our large dining room and enter the ballroom, but mine stays firmly intact. Though we’ve wrestled with when to tell my family that our relationship has evolved, since they still perceive Leith as dangerous, I’m desperate to shout it to the world.

Musy and Pasha step to the joyful song Father plays on the lute. Sonu, our groundskeeper, claps his hands with delight. He’s quite buff for a human his age. And Pega, dressed in a silky yellow shirt and breeches that match her spiky yellow hair, jumps in place in front of Sonu. I think she’s trying to dance… Never mind, it appears her breeches were getting better acquainted with her womanly butt crack.

“She’s not used to wearing underwear,” Leith whispers.

“Thank you for sharing.”

Neela accompanies Father on her violin. My sweet estrellas bounce along the furniture to the beat of the music, chittering away and enjoying the fun.

In the corner, Giselle sits on a stool, flipping through pages of music.

“It must be hard turning those pages wearing those leather gloves,” Leith says.

“Mm,” I say, hoping he doesn’t press for more.

Caelen whispers to Giselle, and she looks up at us and grins. She abandons the pages and heads our way with Caelen shadowing.

Leith and Caelen more or less growl at each other in a way of a greeting. Giselle beams. “You boys are going to be best friends,” she says. “I can feel it.”

Another exchange of growls. Aren’t they fun?

Giselle grabs my hand and pulls me closer to the dance floor. She grins at me. It’s a forced smile. She’s getting worse, and we both know it. But what plagues her is beyond my abilities.

Giselle spins us back toward Pega and Sonu, adjusting her gloves when she stops. “Pega, be a dear and ask Maeve to dance?”

“You want me to dance?” Pega points a finger at me. “With her?”

I sigh. “Believe me, I’m equally thrilled by the idea,” I reply.

The rotten little fox I call my sister shoves me against Pega. She catches me, curses, and drags me onto the dance floor, in the same manner she would an old goat that broke free of his pen.

Pega places her hand lightly—well, lightly for someone of her strength—on my waist, eyes level with my chest, and her other hand takes my own. I place my palm on her shoulder. Like with Giselle, I tower over her, but unlike Giselle, this dwarf would break me in half if I irked her.

I mean to see how Leith is doing, but for this moment, I can’t. I’m too taken by Giselle and Caelen. Her smile slowly vanishes as the distinguished soldier regards her with unmitigated affection, taking a beat to fold her gloved fingers over his and press a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. I feel her breath hitch as much as I see it, her attention dropping briefly to her knuckles before she returns her gaze to his sparkling irises.

With his careful hold and sweeping movements, Caelen makes certain Giselle knows that she is the exquisite beauty he’s honored to stand by. Caelen loves my sister, even if he knows he shouldn’t.

“This is wrong,” Pega says, looking down at our feet. “I think it’s you.”

She steps awkwardly back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. “What are you doing?” I ask, trying to match her movements.

She furrows her fuzzy yellow brows. “I’m making the square,” she says as if it’s obvious. “Musy ’splained that you’re supposed to dance like you’re trying to draw a square with your feet.”

Giselle and Caelen spin smoothly past us, her straight hair flowing like a flag in the breeze.

Pega scowls. “Don’t hate the dancers who can dance. Hate the dancer who told you to make a square,” Giselle teases.

She brushes the drooping side of her face, notices the flaky crust of an hors d’oeuvre, and licks it off. “You’re not doing your square correctly, and Musy wouldn’t lie about somethin’ like a square.”

“Says the gladiator whose legs don’t bend,” Giselle replies. “Did you forget you have knees?”

Leith prowls toward us. “May I?”

He smirks and closes the space between us as Pega steps away, clearly pleased to do so.

“I think it’s time I show you what a real gladiator can do,” he murmurs in my ear.

Pega flings her arms as if in pain from simply holding me. “Good luck,” she says to Leith. “She can’t dance worth shit.”

My body heats as I reach for Leith’s hand. “You’re not going to do that stupid square thing, are you?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

Then he comes alive, moving with exuberance and athleticism becoming of a Bloodguard as the music speeds up.

My gaze bounces from our feet to his face.

“Don’t be too impressed, Princess. This is the only dance my mother taught me.”

Leith leans into me, and without thinking, I rest my head on his shoulder. But when I realize what I’ve done, I try to pull away.

“Don’t,” Leith tells me, holding me close.

I swallow with great difficulty. “But everyone will see,” I remind him.

“Let them see,” he says.

And they do.

Leith leads me along, and I follow every motion, relishing the feeling of being held in his strong arms.

I need you , I want to say.

Please don’t leave , I wish to beg.

His full attention is on me, and it’s as if we are the only two people in the world as everything and everyone else fade away.

It takes Giselle jerking away from Caelen with a gasp to pull me back to reality.

My body tenses when she backs away from him and that irritating charge crackles against my skin.

Caelen is at her heels as she strides toward the door. “What is it?” he asks. “Did I hurt you?”

She looks at him, her eyes wide with stark fear.

“I think I’m going to explode,” she whispers.

Caelen pulls her close, circling her waist with his arm and quickly leading her away.

“Sorry. Too much wine. I need to walk it off,” she stammers to the rest of us as they go.

Pega hurries after them, stopping dead when the strings on Father’s large lute thrum an awkward chord caused by the vibrations from Giselle’s uncontrolled magic as she passes—but only for a second. She would never admit it, but anyone can see she’s grown protective of the younger woman.

Father sets down his lute and follows them, too.

Giselle and Caelen’s abrupt departure takes our cheer with them.

Pasha and Musy can read a room. As the tension muddles the air, they bustle back into the kitchen with Sonu to finish the final preparations for supper. Leith holds me, easing my growing anxiety.

Father returns far more quickly than I’d expect, his skin flushed and wrinkles deepening along the creases of his eyes.

“Father… Did something happen to Giselle?” I ask.

He shakes his head slowly. “It’s not that. We have company. Vitor and Soro are here.”