READER SHOUT OUT: Thank you to ALL of you for the generous gifts! You made me weepy! But especially to Helena_Vieira, Happily_Hammerstone, and Citrus_Time for becoming Etan & Ayleth’s very first Top 3 readers! Thank you! You are a blessing to me! (Etan bows and blows you a kiss. *Wink*)

*****

AYLETH

The burning didn’t stop when she left Etan’s arms, but she could breathe easier. Just having been close to him, knowing she would soon see him and be even closer… it helped.

It also set the butterflies in her stomach to fluttering in a way that threatened to bring up the little food she’d managed to swipe from the trays circulating the hall between dances.

“Are you well?” Trystan asked halfway through their second waltz of the night, frowning. They’d ridden out again the day before and every time she spoke with him she felt more certain of his good heart.

“I’m fine. Just… nervous,” she responded without thought.

“Because of the ball, or because of… plans for later?” he murmured, grinning.

“Because of everything. I do not know how you maintain such a happiness about you, Trystan,” she said directly. “Do you not find the pressure of this whole affair somewhat ominous? Between political machinations, the marriage expectations, and the fact that half of these people would slit my throat given the slightest chance… I find I can barely breathe most nights.” But not tonight. Tonight she would see Etan alone, and that would help. Maybe tonight she could actually sleep.

She realized Trystan was staring at her, his lower jaw pushed slightly forward, his sandy hair falling over his eyes. “Are you alright, Ayleth?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she lied and stifled a shiver. They continued the dance in companionable silence until Trystan cleared his throat.

“My father asked me if I was planning to offer for you at the Peace Accord,” he said with a lopsided smile.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him, perhaps. But that I thought there would be more powerful nations negotiating for your hand in places we could see.”

Ayleth snorted. “Do you know, if that’s happening, my father hasn’t even told me.”

Trystan blinked and looked down at her. “Do you jest?”

“No.”

His eyes clouded. “I would not be a woman in Zenithra for God’s own money,” he growled after a moment.

“It isn’t all bad,” Ayleth said with a saucy swoop of her hip. “I do get to wear beautiful dresses and dance with handsome men.”

“And brooding Heirs.”

“Those are the most handsome kind.”

“Bloody hell, don’t remind me,” he groaned and they both laughed. “I do envy you, Ayleth. He is… a superior man.”

“He is,” she said softly, blinking at Trystan’s chest, realizing she’d been staring, but hadn’t even registered it. It was odd. Handsome as he was, and chivalrous, looking at Trystan’s chest was much like looking at Trayn’s. She could appreciate the form, but it lit no fires within her. “He is, in fact, a better man than me,” she said faintly, finally putting voice to the fear that had been plaguing her for days.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ayleth. If he can’t see the value you have—”

They both went quiet as they passed close to another couple—Dayce and Roarke, who still made Ayleth’s skin twitch. Yet, Roarke was still at Court. Her lips pressed thin, and Trystan, aware of what had passed between them, glared at the man, but was ignored for his trouble.

“You do seem to have a peculiar attraction for the wolves among us,” he said his eyes still latched on Roarke over her head.

“Just as long as I have the lion in my grasp, the wolves can bite my—”

Trystan threw back his head and laughed so loudly, she wondered if the entire hall heard.

*****

ETAN

When Trystan’s laughter echoed around the hall, Etan clenched his teeth. He was dancing with the Lady Hordan—a sly, cat of a woman whom he suspected had only caught his eye because she would rather bed, rather than wed, the notoriously dark Summitran Lord.

No matter what he said, she took everything and turned it into a suggestion.

“Do you enjoy a ride?” he had asked.

“That depends on how you define riding,” she’d said with heavy emphasis on the last word and one eyebrow raised.

He’d tried again a short time later. “Did the travel to Zenithra cause you any discomfort?”

“Only that I have been unable to sleep at night in this heat. I do get terribly… lonely.” And she looked a challenge at him.

He was grateful when the music finally drew to a conclusion and he could deliver her back to the side of the dance floor. There was still at least half hour before he would leave to meet Ayleth—he planned to be very visible when she left so none would connect their later absence.

So when he caught Ayleth speaking with one of her ladies, then walking together towards the doors into the main castle corridor, he put himself in front of Lady Sarya Playn and swept a bow. “May I have this dance, your Highness?”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Oh, stand up, Etan. Of course I’ll dance with you.” She smiled as he took her hand and led her onto the floor.

He made efforts to smile, to make small jokes, to entertain. Not something he usually gave his focus to. But Sarya was easy to please, and it was necessary that people catch the difference in his demeanor—that he appear more comfortable, more at ease, with the Lady of Playn, than he had with the Zenithran heir.

“You have a sparkle in your eye tonight, Etan,” Sarya said at one point. “Like a boy with a plan to steal the cook’s cake.”

“I always have a plan, Sarya,” he’d said good-naturedly. “Perhaps next time you can help me. I do love cake.”

“As do I,” she’d said, smiling slowly.

“Then we shall make a vow tonight that at the very next opportunity, we shall steal cake together. Agreed?”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” she’d said with a delighted laugh and a light in her eyes that made Etan want to pull away.

He really was ridiculous when he was trying too hard, he thought. Though Sarya seemed very pleased. But he let the conversation move on, afraid he might actually embarrass himself.

The dancing was good for keeping him moving so his tension wouldn’t show. But by the time he’d finished dancing with Sarya, then with one of the Widows who wasn’t nearly as forward as Lady Hordan had been, but still left him feeling like he’d been weighed and measured as a stud—which of course, made him think about Ayleth and her… unfortunate comparisons—Borsche met him at the side of the floor.

“You’re making an effort tonight,” his man muttered, eyeing the space around them for anyone who might approach.

“I make an effort every night,” Etan said through his teeth.

Borsche snorted. “I do believe I need my hearing tested, Lord Summit. Either that or… did you just sully your good character with a black lie?”

Etan shot him a flat look, but Borsche was staring at someone beyond him. “What is it?” he breathed.

“Only a warning from a friend I think…” Borsche said quietly. “I will return soon. Enjoy the dancing.”

Etan chuckled and folded his arms as if he planned to stand there a moment. But as soon as Borsche had disappeared into the thick crowd, he began to stroll around the Hall until he reached the shadows at the end where he sank into them and stood for a time.

But no one was looking at him, or looking for him.

So, a few minutes later he stalked out of the side doors and into the corridor as if he were headed to the privy.

His heart raced with anticipation.