Lord Grat’s cheeks tinge red, and he turns me again. There’s a break in the dance where we have to switch partners with the people diagonal to us, and it comes up just then, so Lord Grat lets me go. I spiral into the arms of another noble, thankful for the time to think of my answer and ready with a disarming smile for the stranger. Until I look up into his face.

Lucien.

He poses a striking figure in a red-breasted coat, his hair slicked back and his high cheekbones on full intimidating display, like two blades jutting out against the darkness. His posture is perfect, his eyes icy in their stillness. He’s beautiful. And I can’t bear to tear my gaze away. No matter how much I know I should, no matter how much I know I need to push him away, I can’t bring myself to.

Neither of us speaks.

His hand rests on the small of my back, feeling as if it’s burning a hole through my dress. Part of me shivers at the feel of our palms pressed together, so close to something like that night at the Hunt in his tent, when he kissed me.

The kiss. Suddenly, it’s all I can think about, my memory throbbing. I know those severe, dour lips that frown at me right now. I know the feel of them, how gentle and intoxicating they are.

“I have a confession,” Lucien says softly, his voice rumbling into my chest.

I compose my face, make it as unaffected as possible as I look up at him. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Your Highness. You’ve seen Lady Ania Tarroux around lately, I’m sure—”

“Do you remember,” he interrupts me, “the night we stopped Gavik’s raid, and you protected those people?”

Of course I remember. I remember every inch of the terrified screams, of Gavik’s cruelty. I snort. “A hollow sacrifice, considering I wouldn’t have died if I’d been shot.”

He pulls me closer then, our chests flush now in a way totally inappropriate for the court. His mouth is dangerously close and above my ear.

“I am beginning to tire of the way you belittle the selfless things you do.”

A sharp pain runs through my unheart.

selfless? The hunger finally breaks through to me, growling. we are incapable of selflessness.

“Whether you had died or not, you were willing to take the pain for them,” Lucien continues. “For once, Lady Zera, I ask of you: be as merciful with yourself as you are with everyone else.”

The dance demands a turn, but it’s abruptly and incredibly difficult to breathe deep. Lucien whirls me, and I woodenly move with the motion, returning to his arms.