He swept her along, pa.s.sing a blur of faces she neither recognized nor cared about in that moment. Thoughts of the exotic dress draped across her frame and the firm embrace of the Crown Prince of Byern were lost to her as she kept up with Prince Kael's graceful footwork.

Their feet stilled on the black marble surface at the close of the song. With a flourish, Prince Kael bowed deeply, and Cyrene sank into a graceful curtsy.

As the emotions of the dance had taken over, her breathing had turned ragged. While the steps had not been difficult, she felt as if she had somehow poured more of herself into the movements. The feeling was exhausting yet exhilarating. She was on fire, and she needed water to even begin to douse the flames.

Cyrene broke from her reverie by the sound of faint applause. She tore her eyes from Prince Kael's and realized that guests were openly staring at them.

"Cyrene, you are an intoxicating dancer." Prince Kael drew her away from the crowd.

"Thank you," she breathed unsteadily. "You are quite good yourself." She hid the true weight of her statement behind hooded eyes and a coy smile.

"Allow me to get you a refreshment."

He reached for two goblets of wine, and she gratefully took the gla.s.s out of his hand and took a sip. She didn't drink often, but the wine was extremely high quality, and she could hardly resist.

Cyrene noticed when Prince Kael's attention was diverted. Following his gaze, she jumped slightly in surprise, nearly slopping the wine out of her gla.s.s.

King Edric.

Cyrene fell into a deep curtsy. "Your Highness."

"Affiliate Cyrene." King Edric inclined his head as she rose. "Kael," he brusquely acknowledged his brother, grasping his forearm. "You seem to be capturing all of Cyrene's attention at her own ball."

If Cyrene didn't see the sneer cross Prince Kael's face, she would never have believed it were there when he addressed King Edric.

Prince Kale's demeanor seamlessly shifted into an aloof front with a mocking smile. "How could I not steal the attention of such a beautiful woman?"

"I certainly cannot blame you."

She hastily took a sip of her wine to avoid the heated gazes of the men staring down upon her. Her heart was still thumping from the dance, and the magnetic pull she felt from both of them kept her even more off balance. How did I end up between the two most powerful men in the kingdom?

"You are quite the dancer, Cyrene," King Edric said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You flatter. My dance skills are perfectly adequate."

"On the contrary, you and my brother ignited the floor." His gaze shifted from her to Prince Kael, who was hiding a steely glare behind his own blue-gray eyes.

"I thank you very much. However, I must give credit where credit is due." She lightly laid her hand against Prince Kael's shirtsleeve and smiled at both men.

"Then, perhaps you will allow me to show you the steps of a king." King Edric held his hand out for her.

Cyrene slowly removed her hand from Prince Kael and placed it in King Edric's. Her throat tightened. She was about to dance with the King of Byern. She couldn't believe it.

Affiliates a.s.sociated with the queen and consort on a regular basis. But the king?

King Edric turned his attention back to his brother. "Kael, I do hope you would do Queen Kaliana the same honor you bestowed upon Affiliate Cyrene and entertain us with the next dance."

Prince Kael nodded, his jaw set. "Of course," he said with a stiff bow. He strode across the room to where the Queen stood, surrounded by a cl.u.s.ter of brown-nosing Affiliates.

"After you," King Edric said.

Two columns of dancers formed in the center of the floor, men on one side and women on the other. King Edric took the head of one, and Cyrene fell into place across from him. Queen Kaliana placed herself opposite Prince Kael on the other end. Cyrene tore her gaze away from the other dancers and laid her eyes on the man-the King-standing before her.

King Edric snapped his fingers at the string quartet, and they immediately straightened, drawing their bows.

Violinists seductively strummed the opening chords of "Cat's Cradle," and men bowed as the women demurely curtsied. The dance was intricate with elaborate weaving patterns, opening and closing circles, and partners swapping at specific times.

The King seemed much at ease with the steps as he flawlessly led her through the first weave.

"You're wearing that color again," King Edric said.

"I thought you quite liked it."

"Have your eyes failed you tonight?" He twirled her around another couple.

"What could you possibly mean?"

"I've told you once before that no one wears such a color in my court." He eyed the cut of the dress rather deliberately.

"I guess I will have to return the commission I ordered today." She knew she had to act quickly as the time in the dance where she would be swept from person to person was approaching, and then it would be over. "I informed my seamstress of your affection for the color, and she redid my entire wardrobe in the bright hues, My King." Or at least, she would do so when she left.

King Edric looked down upon her face, his expression as near to shock as Cyrene had ever seen on him. He recovered swiftly, clearly determined to set her straight on his opinion about her attire, but at that moment, she was pushed into the arms of a member of the High Order. As she was carried from person to person throughout the dance, she hardly remembered their names. Some of the men were simply adequate, and others spun her in circles that made her neck ache while one or two more were nearly on par with King Edric and Prince Kael-though certainly no one would suggest it.

A moment later, she was thrust back into the King's arms, and she smirked up at him.

"You really do wear that smirk all the time, don't you?"

"I said I did at my Presenting. Are you inferring that I would lie to Your Majesty?"

"No more than your insinuation for having an affinity for the weather," he countered.

Cyrene almost laughed. She had been joking of course when she had told the King that Elea thought Cyrene could predict the weather.

As the music changed, they filed back into the two lines in which the couples had initially stood. She dropped her curtsy to the men's side, and the King nodded in acknowledgment. The dancers broke off and returned to the circle of friends they had left behind.

King Edric approached her once more with a smile for the watching courtiers. "A fine dance, Affiliate Cyrene," he complimented openly.

"You do me a great honor." She tilted her head in acceptance of his praise.

"I do wish you good luck in your training tomorrow."

"With your blessing, I am certain I will do all I can for Byern," she murmured.

He stared at her thoughtfully for a second before he turned and strode away to his Consort. Cyrene had no idea how she had garnered this much attention or what it all meant.

With the crowd's eyes hot on her face, Cyrene promptly exited the dance floor. Retrieving a gla.s.s of wine from a pa.s.sing waiter, she searched out the family she had all but forgotten after Prince Kael's request to dance. She could pick Reeve's towering figure out of any crowd, and she seamlessly maneuvered around the ballroom to his side.

"Cyrene," Reeve boasted, throwing an arm around her.

He staggered forward against her, and he reeked of alcohol. She had never seen her brother in such a state before.

"h.e.l.lo, Reeve."

"Congratulations again, little sister."

"Thank you."

She glanced around at the array of men standing before him. All of them wore the Dremylon crest on their chests.

"Let me kindly introduce you to my good men of the High Order-Brayan, Surien, Rhys, and Clovis." He pointed out each man as he called each one by name. "Gentlemen, meet my sister and now Affiliate Cyrene."

The level of intoxication among the mix was on a level that she didn't even deem worthy of a curtsy.

"Pleasure is ours, Affiliate." Rhys dipped slightly at the waist.

"Thank you," she said, trying to remember her manners and not his demanding looks.

"Have any of you heard from Zorian?" Clovis asked. "He was supposed to be back for your sister's Presenting."

"I haven't heard from him." Brayan took a swig from his mug.

"I'm sure he'll turn up," Reeve said.

"Yeah, he told me he would be in from Carhara," Surien confirmed.

"Must have ended up with one of those Carharan women. I've heard the ones in the capital city work you-" Rhys began.

Reeve smacked Rhys on the chest and threw his head in Cyrene's direction. The weight of the men's gazes landed on her, and she tried not to feel vulnerable in their midst. Something in their nature reminded her of a pack of wolves stalking their prey.

Cyrene searched for a way to exit the conversation. She didn't know this Zorian, nor did she have any interest in hearing about his adventures with Carharan women.

"Have you seen Aralyn?" she asked Reeve.

"Aralyn?" Reeve asked in disbelief Reeve's friends laughed at the suggestion.

"What would anyone want with that prude?" Clovis asked.

Rhys chortled drunkenly next to him. "I could think of a few things."

Reeve shook his head, but he was laughing at his friends' indecency. "I don't know, Cyrene. The ice queen sticks to her Amba.s.sadorial snow castle in Kell. She probably has her nose in a book somewhere."

Reeve might as well have punched Cyrene in the stomach. How could he speak in such a manner about their sister and let his friends laugh at her? They had always had their differences since Reeve was older, more boisterous, and more outgoing where Aralyn was austere, studious, and rather particular about everything around her.

Apparently, Cyrene had quite a few things to learn about court life. If she had it her way, she would certainly unlearn this lesson from Reeve.

"Well, I'm going to go find her," she said. She snaked out of his embrace and stumbled away from their circle. She tried to block out their snickers as she left.

Eventually, she located Aralyn sitting with one other woman. They were just removed from the entrance to the grand hall.

"Aralyn, I've been looking for you."

"h.e.l.lo, Cyrene," Aralyn said with a small smile. Her wavy light-brown hair was dead on the ends, and she had circles under her eyes. Her shoulders seemed too tight with tension. The travels the Queen requested of Aralyn had obviously taken a toll on her.

"You seem to be in a better mood than when I left you. Could it be because Prince Kael and King Edric asked you to dance?" Aralyn suggestively arched an eyebrow.

"That could have something to do with it."

"Oh, forgive me," Aralyn said. "This is Affiliate Leslin. She works for the Queen's library division."

"Pleased to meet you," Cyrene said.

A disturbance at the entrance cut off further conversation. All eyes in the hall turned to the broad double doors as two men of the High Order hauled a man up off the ground and shoved him forward. The man threw expletives in such a slur that Cyrene only understood half of what he was saying.

As they approached where she was standing, she recognized this man. Of all the people she had met tonight, she could distinctly remember this person even if she had no clue of his name. He was the man who had run into her when she first entered the room.

They forcibly threw the man out the doors, and he landed heavily on his backside and rolled a pace before lying still.

"And stay out there, Ahlvie," one of the men yelled.

"We've had enough of you tonight," the second one chimed in.

Cyrene winced, and a twinge of pity hit her.

Several women gasped in outrage at the treatment, but Ahlvie slowly righted himself. He glared at the two members of the High Order and tossed a few more choice swear words in their direction.

"I've go-got to ge-get out of here." He staggered to his feet. "Too many d.a.m.n ru-rules in this forsaken pl-place!" Ahlvie staggered away from the hall, all the while muttering to himself.

"He is insufferable." Leslin shuddered.

"A bit of a drinking problem?" Cyrene asked. She knew full well he had been beyond drunk when he careened into her earlier.

"A bit? If that...that man comes into my library again with a drop of alcohol in his system, I'll murder him myself. I don't care if he is a genius. His behavior is uncalled for."

"Decidedly uncalled for," Prince Kael agreed, walking into their conversation, unannounced.

Cyrene's back had been turned, and she jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Perhaps I'll have a word with him."

Aralyn and Leslin looked at Prince Kael as if he were a large mythical Indres with huge talons and a body twice the size of a wolf.

Prince Kael acted oblivious to their bug-eyed expressions. "I'd hoped for another dance, Affiliate Cyrene. Will you oblige me?"

"Of course she will," Aralyn said without thinking for once. "We were just leaving. Weren't we, Leslin?"

"What?" the older woman squawked. "Oh, yes. Yes, we were just"-she cleared her throat-"leaving."

Cyrene didn't know whether to be grateful or humiliated by their hasty departure. Prince Kael stood before her with a humorous look on his face.