“Casimir—” I began, but he shook his head in warning, and the words died on my tongue at Gwen’s sharp intake of breath as we rounded the corner and entered the ballroom.
Ouverham’s ballroomwas as opulent as any of the Gilded Circlite manors, only on a much grander scale. A crowd of students, faculty, and local bigwigs was already assembled to listen to a string quartet play a concerto at the far end of the hall. A dozen crystal chandeliers twinkled high above our heads, casting the entire room in a warm golden glow.
Ouverham College’s board of fellows had clearly dipped into the endowment funds to see the ballroom decked out in elegant silver drapery. On the far side of the ballroom, a string quartet played melodically next to a row of cloth-lined tables where I could only assume the university patrons might purchase an outrageously overpriced dinner toward the fundraising efforts. Noting the enormous champagne tower, overflowing with the effervescent liquid,
Casimir and I exchanged a dubious glance. Neither of us wanted to risk being drugged with Daemon wine tonight. Instead, we opted for alcohol whose origins we could clearly identify. I scanned the faces in the crowd as we made our way through the ballroom, searching for a flash of pale blonde hair or a pairof cruel emerald eyes. Casimir noted my unease. Nothing slipped past his notice, it seemed.
After downing his measure of bourbon in one gulp, he turned to me, holding out a hand. “Shall we?”
I stared at the proffered hand. “Shall we what?”
He sighed as though I was being uncommonly daft. “Dance, of course. You do know we’re in a ballroom, don’t you?” he said, feigning an expression of mock concern. “Or should I be worried that the concussion you sustained gave you lasting brain damage?”
I scowled. “Insulting me seems a poor strategy to tempt me to accept your offer.”
He chuckled. “You’re right. I’m sorry, you aren’t brain-damaged. Just… distracted. But please, Miss Farrow,” he said in a low purr, offering me a deferential bow. “Allow me to distract you from your distraction.”
I fought back a smile. “Fine.”
I was grateful the string quartet seemed hellbent on playing only the most somber arrangements, which meant that we could sway across the dance floor as slowly as we liked, with my feet in little danger of crushing any toes.
Dancing wasn’t so bad,I thought, as Casimir’s hand dipped lower on my back, drawing me as close as propriety would allow at such a stuffy affair. To no one’s surprise, Casimir was an excellent dancer. My mouth twisted into an expression of irritated amusement. He arched a brow in question.
“It’s nothing.” I sighed. “Just—why am I not surprised to discover you’re a good dancer, too?”
“Do you want to stop?”
“No,” I said hastily, wrapping my arms more securely around his neck. I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to get closer to Casimir, even if he was being aggravating.
He smirked down at me. “Glad to see that my plan is working.”
I couldn’t deny he had an undeniable talent for distracting me. The knot in my stomach had unclenched somewhat during the course of our dancing.
“Have I told you how divine you look tonight?”
I flushed and looked away.
“I admit I am surprised you actually wore the necklace,” he said, his eyes dipping to the serpent clasp at the hollow of my throat. “It suits you.”
“Is flattery part of your plan for distracting me?”
He grinned. “No, but you are certainly distracting everyone else here tonight, looking the way you do.”
“With any luck, they’ll find the chainmail intimidating,” I quipped. Casimir’s hand moved to brush against the cold chain links at my waist, making me shudder.
And then he gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “Oh, believe me, you do look intimidating, but it’s not because of the chainmail.”
My retort died on my tongue as he leaned closer. The expression in his dark eyes was positively predatory, reminding me of the sultry comment he’d made at Bryce’s manor.
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the most dangerous thing at this party.”
If only that were true.
He grinned in earnest and then dropped his gaze to my neck. “Who glamoured you?” He frowned as his thumb traced the side of my neck where my love bites were now hidden.
I laughed even as my face heated at the memory. “No one did, it’s concealer. You know, makeup?”
He opened his mouth to reply, and then suddenly went rigid, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His gaze was fixed on a point just over my shoulder, and when I whirled around, I found August standing there on the dance floor. His eyes were tired, his skin pale and gray. He wore a boxy tuxedo that was much too large on hisshrinking frame. A wave of pity and fear had me swallowing my reproach.