The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 6 - Part 2

I stumbled to a halt, attempting to recover whatever grace and appearance I could, not daring to throw a look over my shoulder to where Dulciana lurked, the crescent-moon marks of her nails stinging even through my many layers of formalwear.

But it was of no use. The entire room now looked to me, to the younger princess who had turned away from her line of suitors and towards the foreign prince. The foolish Pretanian who had so rudely interrupted her selection of a first dance partner. I could feel the king's eyes on me and I didn't dare look up at him, foully cursing Dulciana in my mind.

I offered a little bow to the princess, a desperate attempt to save face, wondering if backing away towards Dulciana would be the height of rudeness.

I wasn't left to wonder for long, however. Ana-Cristina took a step towards me, her bejewelled dress tinkling and glittering as she ran her eyes over me.

"Have you come to dance with me, your Highness?" she asked.

"It seems your sister would willingly part with me for your first dance, should you so desire," I said, a razor-sharp smile on my face as I finally shot that look back at Dulciana. Her mouth had twisted into a frown, having clearly not anticipated being called out for her actions, but she inclined her head to her sister nonetheless.

"How generous," Ana-Cristina purred, extending her hand towards me.

Unlike at home, the women of Ardalone's royal court did not wear gloves, so when I reached out to take the younger princess' hand and kiss it, it was bare skin that touched my lips. Despite the heat of the room, her hand was cold, trembling as I touched it to my mouth.

Trembling, like the line of suitors bristling at the foreigner who dared take the princess' first dance.

Her hand still in mine, I led her to the dance floor, sweeping a look at the courtiers surrounding us, gauging the fallout from Dulciana's action. Whispers darted behind fans, the eyes of the room on me as I placed a hand on Ana-Cristina's waist, her bodice stiff and rough with jewels and golden embroidery. Some part of me wondered how she would be able to dance in such a monstrosity of a gown, but her skirts swished against the marble floor as she positioned herself in my arms, awaiting the music.

"Thank you," she breathed in the silence, her voice meant only for my ears before the orchestra swelled into a waltz.

For a heartbeat, a small, sad smile curved her lips, before the mask of a courtier fell back into place.

Interesting.

We were alone on the floor as I carried Ana-Cristina from one side to the other, once again reading the room as we spun. Unlike in Highcastle, no other nobles joined us, the floor a looming, vacant space as we waltzed across it. Instead, they stood like sentries, most wearing the very same unreadable mask that Dulciana now wore, her arms hanging limp at her sides as she watched us dance. She caught and held my gaze as we swirled past, nothing in them but that same cold calculation as I danced with her sister.

Ana-Cristina was silent in my arms, wearing the same pretty smile she'd donned atop her father's dais, darting occasional looks up at me before looking away. No hint of a blush, though, I noted. Coy, but without any real emotion, like an actress on a stage. I couldn't shake the notion that she was attempting to read me just as much as I was attempting to read her.

I longed to sigh and massage my temples, but I kept to the count of the dance.

There was a reason Dulciana had thrown me into Ana-Cristina's arms. A reason Ana-Cristina was now fixing me with tentative glances and half-smiles, while the rest of the royal court looked on. A reason why she'd been so overtly flirtatious during our first dinner and every other chance she got, all while her sister was in the same room...