“Yes.”
Lilac stuffed down her skepticism. “I’ve never seen her at any of my mother’s parties. Nor you.”
“My mother was not often invited to socialize. Not after having a child with a commoner.”
“Oh.” She was probably one of the court-adjacent women, never truly in Marguerite and Henri’s circle. It had been years, she could’ve easily forgotten. That still didn’t explain why he was at her feast. “I had no idea.”
“It’s perfectly fine.” Rupert shook off her apology, nervousness clouding the handsome, boyish way he smiled.
Garin was studying the guard; she could feel it without looking at him.
“One dance couldn’t hurt,” Garin offered. “Now that it’s been made clear he isn’t some lowly guard.”
“I couldn’t.” She glanced at him sidelong. “I wouldn’t want to leave you alone, My Lord.”
“I’ll survive.” Garin sat back, cozying into the throne. “Maximilian will not mind. Go ahead, Your Majesty.” She glared, but Garin only gave her a generous smile, cocking his head toward the dance floor. “I insist.”
“I couldn’t possibly?—”
“Dance. For me.”
At his last words, Lilac stood abruptly, as if tugged up by strings. Heart pounding, she pushed her throne back with one hand, causing several pairsof eyes to drift to her. Even Rupert blinked at her willingness. “You know what? I shall.”
Fighting the pull of Garin’s demand would only draw attention; gritting her teeth and cursing him to the lowest circle of hell, Lilac obliged, allowing his power to tug her away. Garin bowed his head, lips pursed as stood to make room for her to pass him.
Seething, Lilac joined Rupert at the top of the stairs. She placed her hand upon his, feeling Garin’s gaze burning the back of her neck as they descended.
She wouldn’t let him instruct her again, not in front of everyone. Lilac pulled Rupert past her friends and Emma, toward the quartet and the warlock. Myrddin still stood near the musicians, chuckling and sharing a slice of cake with Hedwig. It appeared he hadn't noticed the commotion at their table, or her approaching; upon spotting them, the warlock’s eyes grew wide.
She didn't know what she was doing—hadn’t had enough practice for a partner dance without humiliating herself. The only consolation was that Rupert’s movements were no better; he was stiff in his attempt at rhythm.
“Help,” she mouthed, her hand lifting to rest upon Rupert’s shoulder.
Finally realizing Lilac wasn’t gracing the floor of her own accord, Myrddin skittered forward and whispered something to one of the musicians. To her horror, they brought out a stringed instrument, the ones on either side of him readied their drums, and before she knew it, her body was moving.
Rupert stifled a yelp as her foot came down on the toes of his boot.
“I am so sorry,” Lilac said, straining against every movement. This was not the kind ofhelpshe’d had in mind.
He readjusted his grip on her upper back. “Usually it’s customary I take the lead, Your Majesty.”
Her muscles were already burning. The song Myrddin had requested was drum-heavy, the vibrations of the string instrument coursing through her body like an unending pulse. Maybe if she kept talking, he wouldn’t find her movements so suspicious. “Sometimes, one might find it beneficial to let the lady take the lead. Don’t you think?”
“I suppose.” Rupert looked dubious. “Have you not learned the dances?”
“Thepavaneandalmainare boring.” She owed him no explanation, growing more annoyed with every jerky movement her body made. “I’ll have you know, even if it seems that I don’t know what I’m doing, it doesn’t mean I cannot lead well. That I will not learn to, with time.”
She caught Piper, Yanna, and Isabel staring; Lilac shot them a warning glare before launching herself out, extending her arm and nearly swiping the champagne flutes off a passing server’s tray. Lilac shrieked with the wind knocked out of her as she twirled back into poor Rupert, who coughed when she landed against his chest.
“You’re right, Your Majesty.” He cradled her cautiously, as if handling an awkwardly large vase. “Your dancing skills are truly astounding.”
She couldn’t keep at this all night. Lilac looked over to Myrddin; he gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up as Hedwig watched with her hand over her mouth.
All the while, Garin watched from his perch. His expression was unreadable at first. Did he think it was funny? Was he bored? Why would he have her dance with Rupert, a noblewoman’s bastard son, in front of everyone? It was just a dance, that much was true. And this was her feast. But what was the point?
The corners of his mouth quirked upward, his bored, darkened eyes on Rupert. He’d wanted to embarrass him. Garin wasjealous.
Lilac would dance for him, indeed.
