His lips twitch; I’ve amused him. “Me? No, Rhya. I do not need to eliminate you. I need only be patient. It is only a matter of time before one of Efnysien’s lackeys succeeds where Lieutenant Gower failed.”
My heartbeat is a roar between my ears, the rush of blood deafening. “What is it you want from me?”
“From you? Nothing.”
“Do you mean to scare me off, then?”
The music is reaching a crescendo. He pirouettes me expertly, spinning me in a full circle. His chest presses close to my back for a brief moment as I turn in his arms. His mouth finds my ear to whisper, “Would that I could. You do not seem so easily intimidated.”
Before I can retort, he spins me around to face him once more and we resume our waltz, gazes locked in a contest of stares I cannot escape. His puckered red scar catches the firelight, lending him a daemonic look. My skin crawls under his grip. I wish, with startling vehemence, that I could shove out of his arms, kick him in the shin, and find my friends. But my curiosity is too strong for me to walk away.
“Why this charade, Yale? Why ask me to dance if not to badger me into submission? I assume you are curious about more than my waltzing skills.”
“Mmm. You could use some lessons on technique, though your natural grace makes you an easy enough partner to lead.”
“False flattery seems rather gratuitous at this point, does it not?” I narrow my eyes. “Tell me what this is about or I shall take my natural grace and use it to remove myself from your presence.”
“Quite a flair for dramatics beneath that calm exterior ofyours, isn’t there?” He pauses artfully. “To be truthful, I wanted a closer look at you after watching so long from afar.”
An unpleasant shiver moves up my spine at the thought of him—or his network of spies—watching me.
He feels my tremble; his lips curl up at the corners as he adds, “And to ascertain if the rumors are true.”
“Rumors rarely are. That’s why they’re called rumors, not facts.”
“Fair enough. But from what I have observed since I returned to Caeldera, it seems the whispers in the streets are not so far from reality. Prince Pendefyre has fallen in love again—with another wind weaver, no less. History seems doomed to repeat itself.”
My teeth grind together. I have heard a similar refrain before, from Soren. I like it even less coming from Yale’s smug mouth. “I would think the esteemed commanding general of Dyved’s armies would know better than to listen to idle gossip.”
“But it is not idle. He is in love with you. I have seen it with my own two eyes.”
“Ridiculous.” I bite out the word. “You have seen nothing, for there is nothing to see. There is nothing between Pendefyre and me.”
Except in my memory.
Except in the farthest reaches of my foolish heart.
“Sometimes, affection is most apparent in the things left unsaid, the actions left untaken.” Yale’s tone is flat. “Sometimes, the deepest love disguises itself as indifference—for to reveal it would be to lay oneself bare. No man would willingly admit such a weakness. Perhaps not even to himself.”
My pulse pounds. “Even if your laughable notions are true, I would think a man of your position has better things to worry about than the prince’s love life.”
“That’s where you are wrong, Rhya.” His strong lead never wavers, even as his voice grows intent. “Pendefyre is our rightful king. He will claim the throne. He will do it soon. I know this to be true. I also know that he is volatile. It is his nature, his very essence. The fire burns too strong within him, just as it did for King Vorath.” He shakes his head. “I cannot hold his temperament against him. But when a man like that—a man on whom the fate of my country, perhaps even my world, rests—falls in love, volatility can turn violent. When that man is also a king, violence has consequences for everyone. Only a very foolish general would disregard such a threat to all he is sworn to protect.”
“You see me as a hazard, then. Something to be eliminated.”
“I see you as an unpredictable variable. I don’t like unpredictable variables. They tend to cause chaos.”
“I have no intentions of causing chaos.”
“Your intentions do not matter; only their outcomes.”
“I think you overestimate my sway over Prince Pendefyre. Even if he is”—I nearly choke on the words—“in lovewith me, it will not affect his leadership.”
“I have seen great men led astray by lust. I have watched the strongest of leaders cowed beneath the weight of despair over a lost lover, or driven into a blind rage in a fit of jealous temper. With a normal king, such provocations could be cause for disaster. With Pendefyre on the throne…I fear it will unleash utter devastation.”
“What would you have me do, Yale?” I ask tightly. “Leave him? Leave Dyved?”
“I cannot answer that. I can only offer counsel when I feel it is necessary for the good of the entire realm.”