In the Veins of the Drowning(5)

King Theodore’s scowl lingered on me for a heartbeat before he gave Nemea a beleaguered look. “Very well, Nemea. It’s kingly duty that she’s eager to discuss? If the dance is long enough, we can muse over just how thoroughly you lack it.”

I gaped at his lack of fear. He did not bother to tend to Nemea’s fragility the way the court did—the way I did. Before Nemea could even form a retort, King Theodore extended his hand and, mortified, I set mine within it. His calluses scratched, but his touch was warm, gentle. My mind rattled as I remembered our interaction on the lookout. I’d been emotional. I’d been disparaging and impolite. As King Theodore led me away, Nemea’s meaningful gaze sank into me like a blade. What he wanted me to do was clear. Charm. Mollify.

“I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty,” I said, my voice small. “I didn’t know who you were. I would never have been so familiar—”

“Where is your fiancé, Lady Imogen?” he asked, ignoring my apology completely.

“I—” I swallowed, trying to strengthen my voice. “I’m not sure. Perhaps the captain is hiding away with cold feet, preparing to beg His Majesty to be released from our engagement.”

“Is the captain an idiot as well as a murderer?”

His words struck me, and I did not know if I should feel flattered or shamed. Silent and tense, we found our spot on the dance floor. His gaze pressed down on me, but I kept my eyes on the wall above him, on the disembodied Siren wing that hung upon it.

A lilting, plucky tune filled the air. The thought of dancing an unending reel with him forced a stilted smile to my face. I spoke above the music, trying anew for exuberance. “I’m honored by your presence, Your Majesty. I know you traveled a long way.” He set a hand to my waist, and the quick steps began.

“I couldn’t miss an opportunity to gape at Seraf’s horrors, now could I?” he said, watching me keenly. I bit into my tongue. “I know your handmaid, Agatha.” He nodded to her across the room, where she stood glowering at the sea of people, holding a goblet in her fist. “I was surprised to see her here of all places.”

His disdain for here was clear in the harsh way the word slipped through his teeth. “I didn’t realize you were acquainted.” It was hard to imagine Agatha having a life before she had come into mine. “And how do you know her?”

“She was my governess—for a time.”

“She was mine as well.” She must have been in Varya immediately before she’d come to Seraf. “And would she scold you for dipping below the bottom line with your quill, like she did me?”

“No,” he answered, with perfect austerity. “I never dipped below the line.”

“Oh.” I found myself missing the kindness, the warmth, that I’d seen in him earlier. “I see.”

The steps of the dance were quick and twisting. I slid under King Theodore’s arm, hopped and spun, and could barely breathe for the way my dress clamped as tightly as a fist around my ribs. I stepped back in front of him and set my hand in his, but his fingers wouldn’t curl over my palm to hold it. He stopped us midstep.

“Is there a problem, Your Majesty?” I asked, wincing at the stitch in my side.

“Yes.” He looked so severe, staring down at me with tight eyes. “You cannot breathe.”

“Please keep dancing.” I looked around, chest heaving, worried about causing a scene and riling Nemea’s temper. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’re panting like a dog.”

I could not parse whether the man was annoyed or concerned. “Please,” I begged, “I have no desire to disrupt the dancers. I’m well. Thank you.”

He stared at me for a heartbeat, gaze narrowing, and then he started our steps again, but at a half pace. He wove us through the other pairs, keeping us both in step with the music and out of step with the rest of the room. We were as close as my skirt would allow.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“I’m letting you catch your breath.”

“I said I was fine.” Panic edged my words. Out of the corner of my eye, Nemea watched us, angry color rising in his cheeks.

“Nemea made you wear this ridiculous dress?” His voice was deep and soft, sending a wave of prickling nerves over my skin.

I glanced down at my bodice. “It was a gift,” I said tersely. “He wanted tonight to be perfect and had it made specially for the occasion.”

“Remarkable.”

“What is?”

“Nemea is even cruel with his gifts.”

The music began to drone, one bar after the next. The laughter of the dancers grated at my ears, and King Theodore, annoyingly, kept our slow pace, leading me with ease through the reeling dancers all around us. I plastered an even, pleasant look on my face, eyes fixed over his shoulder.

He pulled back, just slightly, and cocked his head. “You look familiar.” There was a question strung through the words.

“Do I? Perhaps our talk earlier has you confused.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s something else.” He kept staring, just as he had on the parapet, meticulous and appraising.

“I assure you, you haven’t seen me before today. I was born here. I’ve never left Seraf. When I was orphaned, King Nemea benevolently took me in as his ward.”