He walks past me, arm held aloft, clutching Rosalina’s hand.
It’s as if the entire ballroom takes a collective breath.
“What in the realms is Prince Keldarion doing with that human?” my partner sneers.
Kel sweeps Rosalina in his arms and the music slows, a passionate lilt filling the air. A small smile creeps over my lips. Inside, my chest eases for the first time all night.
“He’s dancing,” I murmur, “with our girl.”
45
Rosalina
Thereweremanythingsin my life I knew I’d never do. And most of them were for very practical reasons.
I’d never go to university because there wasn’t enough money. I’d never move away from Papa because he needed my help. I’d never refuse Lucas because he’d ripped a part of me out and kept it ransom in his back pocket.
And I would never dance with a fae prince because my life was not magical. There were no such things as fairytales, and I was not the main character.
And yet, after I chide Prince Keldarion of the Winter Realm for not taking a dance partner, he stares at me with that icy blue gaze, puts his rough hand on my cheek, and says, “The only person in this room I want to dance with is you.”
I intake a sharp breath. That cruel voice in the back of my head, the one that sounds like a chorus of Lucas and my boss and all the townsfolk back home, screams at me, ‘You know Keldarion. He’d rather debase himself and dance with you than bother to find someone better.’
But there’s a different voice, one that’s louder and stronger, and this one comes from deep within the core of myself. And this one says,‘Yes to this dance. Yes to all the others. Yes to dancing through the stars, throughout the ages, throughout the realms, throughout every universe. Yes to him forever and ever and ever and ever.’
“You need to find your mate, Kel,” I finally manage. “Dance with someone who you feel a spark—”
“It’s not a spark. It’s an eternal fire that burns from deep within my heart and reaches out to you.” Ferocity flickers in Kel’s gaze. “And every moment I am not touching you, it eats my soul inside out, tearing me apart, until merely looking at you is an anguish I would only wish upon my worst enemy.”
I stare stupidly at him before I burst out laughing. “Just because I called you funny one time doesn’t mean you can make jokes like that now.”
Kel’s fingers dive into my hair, and his other hand lands on my waist. He pulls me close. “Dance with me, Rose.”
Okay, so there’s really going to be no arguing with him. When I manage a nod, his eyes crinkle and he gives me a smile, one so sweet I yearn for all the times I’ve missed it before.
He holds my hand aloft and leads me down the dais and onto the dance floor. I swear, every person in the ballroom turns to stare. It must be quite a sight: the Winter Prince’s first dance in over two decades.
“Everyone’s looking at you,” I whisper.
Keldarion chuckles. “It’s not me they’re looking at.”
My face heats and I stiffen, realizing how much attention I’ve drawn to myself. I must look so ridiculous in this grandiose gown and jewelry.
“Relax,” he murmurs. “You look beautiful.”
As we make our way to the middle of the dance floor, we pass by Farron and his aged companion. His eyes twinkle and his smile jumpstarts my heart.
Nearby, Dayton has an arm around a busty blond fae, but he’s staring at me. He winks and warmth spreads through my body.
And before us, Ezryn stands with his hands limp on a fae woman. He nods, and a sense of peace and comfort ripples over me like sunshine.
Keldarion stops and spins me, before resting one hand on my waist and taking the other in his. “I hope you know how to dance,” he whispers, “because I’m terrible at it.”
The music picks up into a waltz dreamier than any I could imagine from the human world. It’s like the music descends upon me in a breeze that lifts my feet and turns everything else to clouds.
And Keldarion is a liar. He’s not a terrible dancer, not by any stretch of the imagination. He’s extraordinary, leading me through the motions effortlessly.
And I’m lost in the labyrinth of the moment: his long white hair falling over his shoulders, a few strands pulled away from his perfectly carved jawline and cheekbones; the finery of his clothing, so soft I can imagine how it would feel against my bare skin.