Her laughing snarl turned into a warm smile when she noticed the man swiftly approaching them.

Handsome, graceful and lean, with a mane of brown hair artfully disheveled, the man had fair skin, which meant he wasn’t native to Dhemlan, and green eyes that were focused on Jaenelle. An Opal-Jeweled Warlord Prince. A rival.

Daemon hated him on sight.

“My darling,” the man said, pressing his lips to the back of the hand Jaenelle held out to him.

“Prince Rainier,” Jaenelle replied, still smiling.

“I’m wounded,” Rainier said.

Not yet, but you will be, Daemon thought.

“My favorite Lady finally makes an appearance at a party and hasn’t asked me to dance,” Rainier continued. “But that’s all right. I’m content just to flirt with you.”

I’ll see you in Hell first.

Rainier gave him an amused glance before focusing on Jaenelle again. “Would you mind telling your lover that I’m allowed to flirt with you?”

“Of course you’re allowed to flirt with me,” Jaenelle said, her voice filled with laughter. “After all, you never mean it.” She paused. “On the other hand, if you were flirting with Daemon . . .”

“Pointless,” Rainier said, grinning, “since it’s so obvious that he’s taken. But . . .” Releasing Jaenelle’s hand, he smiled at Daemon. “May I have this dance?”

Hot fury. Cold rage. Suddenly it was easy to slip into the game. He’d assumed the person behind the rumors was female—an assumption he shouldn’t have made.

“If my Lady has no objections,” Daemon crooned. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lucivar and Surreal entering the ballroom. As soon as he moved away, they’d stay close to Jaenelle.

“Do you mind?” Rainier asked, glancing at Jaenelle.

She looked baffled. “No, I don’t mind.”

“Shall we?” Smiling, Rainier offered an arm.

Daemon didn’t take the arm—too much temptation to rip it off—but he turned and matched his stride to the Warlord Prince beside him until they reached the dance floor.

The music started. A waltz. He wondered if Rainier had arranged that.

“Who leads?” he asked.

“I asked, so I lead.”

The man could dance. Daemon heard startled gasps, noticed other couples stumble to a halt and move out of the way. But those were distant things. His focus—and his temper—were fixed on Rainier.

“Before you decide in favor of killing me, I should mention that I’m Second Circle,” Rainier said.

That statement almost threw him off balance. It was possible. Jaenelle’s court had been so informal, he’d never met anyone beyond her First Circle. “You mean you were Second Circle. The Dark Court no longer exists.”

“Hmm. Yes. I’m no longer Second Circle just like you’re no longer the Consort.”

They whirled around the dance floor, perfectly matched, studying each other.