The Chronicles of Nir

23 | A Delicate Dance

Time, sound, and physical sensations faded into the void as Benna made her appearance. She was ethereal and stunning, standing upon the dais in her red dress with the stage lights on her.

A beat, then two, and three passed as Benna gazed about the room, holding her head high.

Then the world came back into nauseating focus.

The crowd gasped, uttering whispers of admiration and jealousy, speaking to their nearest neighbors behind decorative fans. Gentleman, regardless of their relationship status, ogled Benna—some with outright predatory lust.

Thankfully, Grelorn displayed no interest beyond a cursory glance. His attention swiftly returned to Liari as he whispered something, causing her lips to turn up a fraction.

Tallon thought he might be sick on his future brother-in-law's polished boots.

As the suspended platform on which she stood came to rest upon the floor as softly as a feather, Benna scanned the room. Lady Trinnian had schooled her on the precise manner in which she was to behave—like a living statue, a flawless work of art—and also on the consequences should she fail to uphold this standard.

A sea of faces gazed up at her; eyes full of adoration and envy. Benna lifted her chin and arched a dark brow. Let them look; it was the closest they would get. Hopefully.

Ben?

Tallon's voice brushed his mind, and Ben turned, unable to hide his surprise. Like an arrow from the bow, his gaze found Tallon in the crowd, and for a heartbeat that sent a pulse of fire through Ben's veins, their eyes met. Hope bloomed in his heart, and if not for the iron jewelry keeping his magic in check, the room would have become a mess of greenery to match.

Tallon?

He tried in vain to speak along their link, but Trinnian's bonds were strong. He could manage a second of contact here and there, but he couldn't tell if his thoughts got through.

Then Ben saw who stood at Tallon's side, and his hope withered faster than tender greens beneath a sudden frost.

Grelorn Tremesian.

A woman who resembled Tallon too much for coincidence held his arm, and suddenly nothing made sense.

Was he dreaming? Had Trinnian broken his mind? Had Tallon somehow betrayed him?

A light touch on his arm startled him, and he turned to see Trinnian regarding him with narrowed eyes. Ben retreated within himself and allowed Benna to take the lead, casting Trinnian a demure, conciliatory smile.

"Marvelous," Benna murmured, cooling herself with a crimson-feathered fan. "I am quite overwhelmed."

The problem with fae of any kind was they played tricks, and for all her knowledge in things of this realm, Madora couldn't discern Ben's thoughts. He was a closed book, so to speak, with the cover bound with a lock and the key nowhere to be found.

Smiling tightly, she muttered through clenched teeth, "So help me, if you disobey or embarrass me, I will skin your wolf before the entire crowd and serve him for dinner."

Inwardly, Ben shivered with horror at the thought but displayed no outward sign of distress. "Of course, Mistress," Benna whispered. "I have no intention of disobeying you. I have given you my word."

Madora didn't spare her another glance as she continued to regard those in attendance.

"Your goal is to enthrall and captivate your audience before tonight's auction. Understand?"

Benna lifted her chin. Ben might be a trembling mess, but she wasn't. She'd always been his escape, his sanctuary, his shield. She was strong, and within her—even here—he was safe.