Children Of The Sky (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 2)

Chapter 24

It was another party at which Ely found himself falling asleep, exhausted after a long day of training. Darcy--Tess, as he'd taken to calling her after their conversation before meeting her father--had started training with him nearly every day. Strangely, he found himself missing her the days she wasn't there. She was more patient, and far more understanding of the way his mind worked, than the swordsman he worked with normally. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that yet.

Paris's prodding made him jump, jogging him awake for the seventh time that evening. Or was it the eighth? Yawning, Ely stood up a little straighter and dug his nails into his palms, hoping the pain would help keep him sharp until the night ended.

Darcy came to join him after the song she and her fiance had been dancing to ended, laughter in her eyes as she selected a glass of white wine from the darkly stained wooden table behind him and sipped it. She was wearing black tonight, and for once it wasn't gaudy, all smooth lines, a modest neckline, and a skirt that, though it was full, looked rather nice.

"Enjoying your nap?" she asked, tone teasing as she eyed him.

"Not particularly," he muttered back, folding his arms. She smacked his shoulder, and he put them at his sides again with a weary sigh. "How much longer is this going to be?"

"An hour or so." Eyeing him again as he yawned, she set her glass down. "You're not going to make it that long, are you? Ask me to dance."

Scoffing, Ely shot a passing waiter a withering look. "No."

"Aw c'mon," Paris chipped in, and Ely nearly jumped out of his skin. Gods, he'd forgotten the boy was there. "You gotta put those dancing lessons to good use sometime."

"The only place I want to put those dancing lessons is up Lady Eldin's ar--"

"Ely Palenin!" Darcy hissed at him, and he could tell she was trying not to smile. "I will not hear you speak of my mother that way."

"Plug your ears."

Rolling her eyes, Darcy folded her arms. It was bloody unfair that she was allowed to do that and he wasn't. "Ask me to dance, or I'll request specifically that you be required to wear stiffer suits again. You need something to keep you awake, and I'd ask you, but my mother would have my head."

"What, and she won't have it now, seeing you dancing with your bodyguard? And a Palenin, no less."

"Ely."

Ely rubbed his face with one hand and sighed. He wasn't getting out of this. If he'd learned nothing else in the weeks he'd spent here, he'd come to know the stubbornness of the woman beside him.

"Darling Tess, would you care to dance with me?" he drawled, sweeping his best dramatic bow and offering her a hand.

"I'd love to, thanks," she replied with a sweet smile, batting her eyelashes at him as she took his hand. Ely rolled his eyes, cursing her in his head as they walked into the room together to the sound of Paris's snickering laugh.

The song that began was a waltz, thank the gods. He hadn't had much luck with any other styles, but he'd done all right with this.

Darcy ended up leading anyways after he almost tripped over his own feet, though he wasn't sure how she managed that while doing the woman's part. He was startlingly aware of how close she was, how close they had to be, with her arm on his shoulder and his hand on the small of her back. Where his hands were cold--they were always cold, nowadays--hers were comfortably warm, fingers resting in his and making his whole arm tingle. All of her was warm, really, and she was tall enough, though just barely, that her forehead kept bumping his chin when they both looked down to correct their footwork, and she'd smile sheepishly, and he'd look away. His heart kept stuttering like a caged bird, and his face felt hot--oh, gods. Was this what blushing felt like? He was never dancing with her again.