Nathe sipped his silver-flecked champagne and watched Sapphy whirl around the dance floor with an official. Clad in a gown of white satin with a blue-laced overlay, she was the definition of delicate beauty. Her hair was braided, with the addition of two moonflowers the color of ice woven into the strands.
But her eyes were cold and her mouth hard.
He didn’t like the tension between them, but was unsure how to resolve it. He felt how he felt after all. To hear a woman he was falling for announce she fought and conspired against authority, had killed a ruler—supporting anarchy—and then reveal the person she was here to stop is none other than the queen trying to seduce him… Shouldn’t she allow him some time to digest?
He wasn’t like her, brimming with impulse and passion. He worked through his decisions. She knew that. So why was she acting so distant, so hurt?
The ballroom was shining once again, huge arched windows reflecting the light in their black mirrors, and couples swirled in their finery. This was the trial that seemed like nothing more than a good time, a test of grace and elegance, beauty and loveliness, and in Nathe’s eyes, none demonstrated this better than Sapphy. High Peers floated on the fringes, assessing the competitors as they danced and mingled, looking for just those qualities. Whether they agreed with him or not, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“You really screwed up.” The man who’d been in Sapphy’s tent appeared next to Nathe, comfortable in formal black with a silver bow tie. His eyes swept over the crowd rather than look directly at Nathe.
Embarrassment about his overreaction reddened the tips of his ears. “I’m sorry?”
“With Sapphy—Lady Saphaia Black,” he corrected himself with a hint of sarcasm. “She’s pissed as a witch at you.”
The man talked as incomprehensibly as Sapphy, but Nathe gleaned his meaning. “She is mad at me. I know.”
“Well, why aren’t you fixing it?”
“Forgive me, but I do not know you,” Nathe pointed out. “This is mine and Saphaia’s business.”
“Nuh-uh. She’s my family, dude, so that makes it my business.” Vander—Nathe remembered the man’s name now—slid him a cool look. “You cut her deep when you didn’t stay.”
“I am allowed to think about the situation.” Flustered, Nathe sipped his champagne.
“Not when you’re involved with her.” Vander shoved his hands into his pockets, ignoring the music and chatter that swirled around them. “She prefers to argue it through. When you left, you basically flipped her the bird.”
“Why would I flip a bird at her?”
“It’s an expression, Commander. You cut her dead. Rejected her.”
Nathe’s mouth fell open. “I did no such thing.”
“She thinks you did.” Vander’s shoulder inclined. “And if I didn’t think it was a misunderstanding, your blood would be staining this very nice marble.”
Nathe’s spine stiffened. “I am commander of the Guard, a queen’s enforcer, and an Elemental of the earth.” His chin rose. “I could literally bury you where you stand, and be within my rights to do so.”
A grin. “Boy’s got attitude at least. So…” He snagged a glass of champagne off a passing tray, slurped it down. “How’re you gonna fix it?”
“As I said, that is—”
“Look, you get one chance before I kill you.” Vander’s eyes flattened. “Do you believe in her or not?”
Surprise flickered at the abrupt change in the human. “It is not a question of whether I believe in her.”
“Yeah, it is. She says she saw something. Do you know her enough to know she doesn’t lie?”
“That isn’t exactly the truth—her presence in the competition is nothing but a fabrication.”
“Nathe. You’ve been with the woman for weeks now. Cards on the table: Do you think she would lie to you?”
“I…” He stopped. “No.”
Vander rolled his eyes. “Then why’re you stressing?”
“I don’t think you understand the ramifications if this is the truth. An investigation would have to be launched, not to mention security will have to be tightened.”
“So?”
“It would mean I’ve put my loyalty in a queen regent who was a murderer.”
“We-ell, I’m not saying I know what’s what around here, but when you swear your loyalty, it’s to the position, right? Besides, what, you’re too good to make a mistake?” Vander slurped more champagne, still watching the crowds. “Don’t make another by cold-shouldering Saph.”
“I am not ignoring her—she is ignoring me,” Nathe pointed out.
“She’s retreated. It’s what she does when things get too real. You just need to force her to listen. Unless you don’t want to be with her.” Vander smiled blandly. “But then we come back to the whole blood-on-the-floor thing.”
Nathe’s eyes were drawn to Sapphy as she curtsied to the official. She suddenly threw back her head and laughed. But an expert at hiding emotion recognized another. It was a staged laugh, for the benefit of the audience and judges, so she could continue in the competition in order to keep the other women safe. Lights glimmered in her hair in direct contrast to her gaze, usually so full of passion, now flat. But still she postured.
And he knew.
The surge of love swarmed through him, shocking every nerve. So strong, so fierce, for the woman who’d seduced his emotions out of the barren box he’d locked them in since Neela. Yet she was nothing like he would have expected.
A rebel?
A warrior for the innocent, his better sense whispered.
Nathe kept eyes on this female who had altered his entire world. Sapphy had been right. Simply because one rebelled against authority didn’t make them evil. If she was correct—and he had no more doubts—Edward had been truly insane, and in taking him down Sapphy had helped save thousands of lives.
Down to his bones, his instinct was to trust her. If she said Arra had stabbed Queen Bea, as explosive as that information was, he had to put his faith in her. She believed in what she said so much she’d returned to a realm she’d left behind and thrown herself into a competition solely to protect others.
How could he not love somebody like that?
He rubbed a shaking hand over his chest. He’d lost his heart, and to a woman who right now would stomp on it if he offered it to her. Contrary to what Vander thought, Nathe did know Sapphy, well enough that he saw how she hid behind her outrageous words and easy sexuality. What scared her was the hand-holding, dancing in the moonlight, pouring out of secrets. Intimacy. Which was why when she’d bared her soul to him and he’d left, she’d shattered.
He closed his eyes. Here he was thinking things through, and she’d almost slipped through his fingers. “I have been a fool.”
“That’s what women make us, dude.” Vander drained the last of his champagne. “I’m gonna go keep an eye on the queen. You do what you gotta do.”
Nathe watched the man disappear into the crowd, until even his trained eye couldn’t spy him. Talent indeed.
He exhaled and stared back at the dance floor. If Arra was behind the sabotage too, Sapphy’s poisoning could very well be laid at Nathe’s door. Everybody knew how the queen regent felt about him. The image of Sapphy, pale, sweaty, dying, shimmered. His fault.
Guilt tangled with simmering anger. He would see to it that Arra was punished for every second of Sapphy’s pain. But first, he had to deal with Sapphy. It would take light footwork and quick hands to win her.
Good thing he was trained for heavy combat.
* * * * *
Sapphy pasted on a smile as she made noises about getting a drink. The official she’d been dancing with had been leering at her cleavage, insisting he needed another dance from such a “charming lady”. If his paw had made one move toward the girls, he would have got her paw in his absurdly large nose, trial judges be damned. She was not in the mood.
Her jaw ached from smiling, but not only was it necessary to perform the perfect lady in the trial—how a future queen should behave, cue vomiting—pride demanded she not let anything below the surface show. No way was she letting Nathe know he’d shredded her heart into confetti.
“Honestly, your Lordship, I must take refreshment,” she protested with a coy smile.
He snatched her hand and pressed a lavish kiss on its back. “Hurry back to me, butterfly.”
With an easy smile that clamored to be a grimace, Sapphy curtsied. She turned and stared directly into Nathe’s brown-violet eyes.
“I need to talk to you.”
Temper stirred like a fire from ashes. “Oh, now you want to talk?” She brushed past him.
His hand curled around her arm just above her opera-length glove. “Please?”
There was a thin line between dignity and childishness, and the judges were still watching.
Sapphy turned with a gracious smile that almost cracked her jaw. “Fine. Five minutes.”
“Five minutes.” He didn’t blink at her rude tone, merely tugged her in the direction of the balcony.
“Hands off, Nathe.” She said it quietly, but no less firmly.
She swept past him as he released her and exited into the warm night. It was scented by moonflowers like she wore in her hair, the delicate flowers twisted and curled around the iron balustrade that framed the yellow stone patio.
Sapphy gripped the black iron for strength. What she feared most was not Nathe rejecting her. It was that she would cry.
She took a deep breath then inclined her head as he stepped up. “Go on, say your piece. Or, I know, let me.” Her voice deepened to a mocking baritone. “‘Saphaia, I have thought about it in great detail and I believe you must have been deceived by your own eyes. Had she been guilty you would have stayed and demanded justice. You are nothing but an impulsive ragamuffin who ran when the going got tough.’”
Nathe’s stare was hard to read. “Are you through?”
It infuriated her that he could remain calm while she went off the boil. As blood simmered, Sapphy summoned a cool breeze to curl around her body. It crooned in her ear. “Your five minutes starts now.”
Nathe turned his back to the view that overlooked the Upper Town, gazing at her instead. “I should like to begin with an apology.”
“Hey, nothing to apologize for.” Hurt tasted bitter, oozing into the words that formed on her tongue. “Why should you believe me—someone you arrested and have only known about a month?”
Nathe tapped her smartly on the nose. “I believe it is still my five minutes.”
There was temper in the words. She hitched a shoulder as if she couldn’t care less.
“It was not my intention to hurt you. By now I would have thought you understood the kind of man I am. I am not prone to impulse. I am accustomed to deep thought, considering the angles, basing my choices on logic more than emotion.”
Even knowing that, it didn’t change how she felt. Didn’t he know how she worked by now? That she needed to be trusted, to be accepted?
Nathe glanced at the glittering ballroom as if choosing his words. He was right to do so; for all they knew Arra might have the castle bugged—though, with the lack of forward advancement throughout the realm, Sapphy doubted it.
Then again, her brush with death indicated she’d already underestimated Arra once.
“It was a shock to hear your words. But I did not hold your past against you for more than a prejudiced minute, and only then because of Neela.” His voice rusted on the last word. “As to the rest, I had previously thought myself a good judge of character, and to know that somebody I put my trust in might have erred so grievously was a blow to the heart as well as the mind.”
“You do talk pretty.” Her heart fluttered despite her sneering words. “Do you believe me?”
“It seems to me there is no choice. If I believe in you, I must therefore believe in what you say.”
“Nathe.” Sapphy turned to him, holding his steady stare. The fluttering had become a flapping. “Keep it simple. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
And with that one word, Sapphy’s grey world clicked into place and became glorious color. While it freaked the holy hell out of her, something inside softened, settled.
She rose up on her toes and brushed her lips against his. The scent of him mixed with the moonflowers, spinning her thoughts away. When she dropped back on her feet, he seemed flummoxed.
“I, ah, presume that means you are no longer mad at me?”
Sapphy bit her lip to contain her grin and shook her head.
Nathe’s lips curved, bringing a shy dimple into play.
Sapphy stared as she took in possibly the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. For the first time, a smile lit his face. “Not fair.”
The smile vanished. “What?”
“How’s a girl to resist when you smile at her?” She pressed the heel of her hand to her still jumping stomach. It was a night for first times.
Her answer made another shy smile appear.
“Now you’ve done it.” She stepped closer, tipped her head back.
“Sapphy.” His voice was husky, distracted enough not to notice he’d used her nickname.
Sapphy grazed his lips with her fingers. Her heart thudded against her ribs. “Will you go to bed with me tonight?”
Those lips parted as violet exploded into his eyes. A hoarse sound rattled in his chest as his hands rose to grip her hips. “I will.”