The corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled as if he did it often. Which somehow contradicted the image she had painted of him in his mind. A stuffy and entirely too full of himself.
“I confess, it was not on the list of attributes your father tells me at every opportunity.” Prince Ira said with an easy smile that said he knew Lord Treveon’s motivation.
“He probably forgot about it beneath the weight of the most important attributes like obedient, respectable, and incandescently beautiful,” Luci said.
“I suspect only one of those is true.” Prince Ira said before leaning in towards her. “I’m going to spin you now.”
Before she could protest, he did just that, and the world flew by her in a rush of colors, all while the music felt like it was made just for them. It rushed along with her, and when she landed with her back against his chest, she laughed. A sound that was familiar, but at the same time foreign. Like it was only ever made for Brielle, and yet here it was in the hands of someone else.
“Incandescently beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes drinking her in like she was sparkling wine.
He strangely felt good against her, and the words that were strange and misplaced ran over like a shiver. A spell cast from a cauldron meant to ensnare. It was an effort not to fall into him more.
Releasing her, she righted herself as they fell back into the steps of the dance. Her dress that had easily flowed between them was more still as she realized she was standing considerably closer to him, and they made their way around the ballroom. Her head was slightly dizzy from the effort of circling, but somehow she knew that wasn’t the entire cause of it.
As they made their way, she caught Lord Treveon’s eyes, which undid her false confidence. There was a peace and pride to him that should never have waited till now to exist. Brielle deserved that look every damn day of her life, and the winter spirits take him for not seeing it. He didn’t deserve her.
Luci’s foot caught, and the next step had her slamming her foot onto the prince’s leather-made shoe. Horror danced over her skin, settling into her mind, but then he caught her step as if nothing had happened and leaned forward.
“Eyes on me, Cinderella.” His voice was dressed in clandestine meetings at midnight.
It called to her like a beacon, and when she raised her eyes up to his, he was silently counting the steps for her. One, two, three. One, two, three. She nodded, finding their rhythm once more, and damn if it wasn’t easy to fall into the command of his gaze.
Like a spell cast, she was once again meeting his steps with her own in an even dance. The rest of the ballroom fell away.
“Cinderella?” she asked, feeling the need to break the spell that held her.
Was that a- smolder? Oh, light. He really was something out of Brielle’s stories. A prince charming to sweep an orphan off her feet and make her a player in the game. Except, he might have been that prince, but she wasn’t that orphan.
“Another spin,” he whispered.
His breath tickled behind her ear and sent a shiver through her, but she did not balk at the challenge. When he released his hold on her, she was ready. Her body twirled, her dress following in perfect swirls of silk that sent a rush through her. When he caught her with her back against his chest, she was breathless.
Spinning once more, he righted her, and the music swelled. It was as if it were the echo to the beat of her heart and her heaving chest. Hand in his, she pressed against him and lost herself in that smile.
“Grand finale,” he winked.
One hand at the low of her back and one gently wrapped around her bare neck, he dipped her, and as if she had known him her whole life, she let him. Trusting him to catch her and hold her weight. It was inexplicable, but intoxicating as the world turned sideways and the shining chandelier was the backdrop to his gaze, which drank her in.
In that moment, Luci knew she would never breathe easy again. Every other second and hour that passed would taste bland and lacking. Yet she couldn’t find it in herself to care because those green eyes were swallowing her whole, devouring her with precision and care. His perfect brown hair the barest fraction amiss, like it was just for her. The urge to run her hands through it was a call in her blood.
“You are a natural,” he said, voice gravelly.
And she believed him. Whatever words came out of those lips would have been true. Were true.
The sound of applause and new music rushed into her ears like the rumble of thunder, and just like that, the spell was broken. She remembered her name and knew that she had absolutely no business in the arms of the crown prince.
Prince Ira’s face that had been raw and open a moment before, as he caught his breath, and that cultivated smile and charmreturned. Firmly, on two feet once more and back to reality, Luci stole back her hand, imagining for the briefest of seconds that his grip held on for more than it should have.
“Ten years have been kind to you, Lady Brielle,” said a voice she had cursed in her mind for ten long years.
There, standing like the entitled prick he was, was Prince Lucien.
Chapter five
The Stroke of Midnight
There is something inherently magical about midnights. The time in between when the past fades, and the future is anything you can dream.