"Lord Marcus."
Seraphina reached him first.
Marcus opened his mouth to redirect her to Theo, but she was already extending her hand with a graceful smile.
Behind her, Catarina was closing in fast.
Vivienne moved through the crowd like a predator.
Iris simply walked in a straight line, nobles scrambling out of her path.
This was fine. This was salvageable. He just needed to—
"Theodore!" A young knight Marcus vaguely recognized appeared at Theo’s elbow.
"Is it true you disarmed Damien Blackthorn in under thirty exchanges?"
Theo’s eyes lit up. "Twenty-seven, actually. His footwork in the opening sequence was—"
And just like that, his brother was gone.
Swept away by a group of combat-hungry nobles who actually wanted to talk about the things Theo cared about.
Marcus watched his carefully prepared wingman strategy disappear.
He was alone.
Well, not alone.
"I was hoping you’d save me a dance," Seraphina said.
Her voice was soft, but there was steel underneath.
The kind that suggested this wasn’t really a request.
"I... yes, of course," Marcus managed. "But perhaps my brother—"
"The first dance is starting." Seraphina took his hand gently but firmly. "Shall we?"
Marcus glanced desperately at Theo, but his brother was now animatedly demonstrating a parry to three fascinated knights. No help there.
Catarina had stopped a few feet away, her expression unreadable.
Vivienne looked amused. Iris tilted her head, studying the situation with alien curiosity.
The orchestra began a waltz.
Seraphina led him onto the dance floor.
Marcus had exactly one thought as they took position: he was so, so doomed.
✧✧✧
Dancing with Seraphina was like trying to defuse a bomb while everyone watched.
She moved with practiced grace, her hand light on his shoulder.
Up close, she smelled faintly of jasmine.
Her ice-blue eyes held his, and there was something in them that made Marcus’s carefully prepared excuses die in his throat.
"You’ve been avoiding me," she said quietly.
"No! No, I’ve just been busy. With Theo. Preparing him for tonight, actually."
Marcus fought to keep his feet moving correctly. "He really wanted to dance with you. Did I mention that?"
"Marcus." The way she said his name was almost fond. "We both know Theodore has no interest in dancing."
"He could learn to be interested!"
"Why are you so determined to push me toward your brother?"
Because you’re supposed to fall in love with him and form a political alliance that saves the kingdom from demonic invasion, Marcus thought frantically.
But he couldn’t say that without sounding insane.
The waltz spun them past a cluster of conservative nobles.
Marcus caught Duke Thornbeck’s disapproving glare.
Perfect. Just perfect.
"You look beautiful tonight," Marcus blurted out, then immediately regretted it.
Seraphina’s eyes widened. Then she smiled, genuine and warm. "Thank you."
The song felt like it lasted both seconds and hours. When it finally ended, Marcus stepped back quickly, bowing.
"Thank you for the dance. I should really—"
A hand gripped his elbow.
"Lord Marcus." Catarina materialized at his side, her duchess voice in full force. "I need to speak with you about an urgent political matter."
Seraphina raised an eyebrow but stepped aside gracefully.
"Of course, Lady Catarina. Do save me another dance, Marcus."
Before he could protest, Catarina was steering him toward a quieter corner of the ballroom. Her hand on his arm was perfectly proper, but somehow also possessive.
"Political matter?" Marcus asked weakly.
"The eastern border treaties," Catarina said smoothly. Then, quieter, "And how you’ve been hiding from me for two weeks."
"I haven’t been hiding."
"You sent three letters canceling our meetings."
"I was busy!"
"Doing what? Coaching Theodore on how to court me?" Catarina’s smile was sharp. "Because Liliana mentioned he asked her about siege equipment last week. Very romantic."
Marcus groaned. "That wasn’t supposed to be for you. That was... wait, siege equipment?"
"He wanted to know if our family had invested in new trebuchets." Catarina’s expression softened into something dangerously close to amusement.
"Marcus, you’re a brilliant man. But you’re being deliberately obtuse."
"I don’t know what you mean."
"Don’t you?"
She was standing close. Closer than was strictly proper.
Marcus could see the flecks of gold in her green eyes.
Could smell her perfume, something subtle and expensive.
The noise of the ballroom faded slightly.
"Catarina," he started.
"There you are!"
Vivienne’s voice cut through the moment like a knife.
She appeared at Marcus’s other elbow, wine glass in hand and a wicked grin on her face.
"Are you monopolizing him already, Duchess? The night just started."
Catarina’s perfect duchess mask slipped back into place. "We were discussing politics."
"How thrilling." Vivienne turned to Marcus, her amber eyes dancing with mischief. "Dance with me. I promise to be much more fun than border treaties."
"I really should check on Theo—"
"Your brother is fine." Vivienne took his hand, her touch warm and confident.
"He’s challenging someone to a friendly duel in the courtyard. Very him. Now come on."
She pulled him back onto the dance floor without waiting for agreement.
Dancing with Vivienne was completely different from Seraphina.
Where the teacher had been elegant and controlled, Vivienne was bold and playful.
She stood closer than was proper, laughed freely, and clearly didn’t care who was watching.
"You’re causing quite a stir tonight," she murmured.
"I’m really not trying to."
"Liar." Vivienne grinned. "You’re the most interesting thing to happen to noble society in years. Do you know what they’re calling you?"
"I’m afraid to ask."
"The Heartbreaker. The Useless Charmer." She laughed at his expression. "Oh, don’t look so horrified. It’s all in good fun."
"This is a disaster," Marcus muttered.
"This is entertaining." Vivienne leaned in conspiratorially. "Also, you should know that Duke Thornbeck looks displeased. That alone makes tonight worthwhile."
The dance ended.
Vivienne released him with visible reluctance, trailing her fingers across his palm in a way that felt deliberate.
"Don’t be a stranger, Marcus. I’ve missed our conversations."
She sauntered off, leaving Marcus standing in the middle of the dance floor feeling like he’d been through a whirlwind.
He needed air. Or wine. Possibly both.
Marcus headed toward the refreshment table, weaving through clusters of gossiping nobles. He could feel eyes on him. Hear the whispers.
"Did you see the way Lady Seraphina looked at him?"
"The Duchess practically dragged him away."
"And the divorced Blackthorn! Shameless."
Marcus grabbed a glass of wine and downed half of it.
A presence appeared at his elbow.
He didn’t need to look to know it was Iris. She had a way of materializing silently that would be creepy if it wasn’t so distinctly her.
"You seem distressed," the elf observed.
"I’m fine."
"Your heart rate is elevated. Your palms are sweating. You’ve consumed alcohol faster than is wise."
Iris tilted her head. "These are signs of stress in humans, yes?"
"I’m just... it’s warm in here."
"It’s quite cool, actually." Iris studied him with those ancient violet eyes.
"The other females are competing for your attention. This is a mating display."
Marcus choked on his wine. "It’s not... they’re not..."
"In elven culture, this would proceed to a formal courting challenge. Is that not how humans do it?"
"No. Maybe. I don’t know anymore." Marcus set down his glass before he could drink more.
"Iris, you’re supposed to be observing Theo. The Child of Destiny. Remember?"
"I observed him. He’s discussing combat techniques with other warriors. Very boring."
Iris moved slightly closer. "You’re much more interesting."
"I’m really not."
"You asked me what I wanted." Her voice was quiet. "No one has asked me that in five hundred years."
Marcus’s protest died in his throat.
Iris was looking at him with an expression he was learning to recognize.
Wonder. Curiosity.
Something that might be the beginning of actual emotion in a being who’d lived half a millennium in isolation.
Oh no.
The orchestra began another waltz.
Catarina started moving toward him again.
Marcus’s wine glass was empty.
The night was far from over.