The Rose Society
Page 23
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So, Teren does care for someone—not only is he a loyal soldier to Giulietta, but he is in love. Is that even possible? I keep my face frozen in a smile and store this information away, wondering how I might be able to use it later.
The nobleman talking to the Night King now turns his attention to me. It takes me a moment to recognize him. I don’t know why I didn’t see him earlier.
It’s Magiano, and he stares at me with a lazy grin. His eyes don’t look slitted tonight—his pupils are dark and round instead, and his mess of braids is neatly tied in a high knot on his head. He is dressed in luxurious silks. I have no idea how he charmed his way to the Night King’s side, but there is no sign of his wild side here. He is as coiffed and charismatic as the wealthiest aristocrat, his appearance so different that I didn’t even know it was him. I almost feel like I can read his thoughts.
Ah. There you are, my love.
“This dancer is new to the city, my friend,” Magiano says to the Night King. He swings an arm good-naturedly around the other man’s shoulders. “I’ve seen her before. She’s very good—she is court-trained, I hear.”
I hide my irritation and just continue blushing. He’s taunting me, throwing little obstacles in my way. So be it. I smile back, wondering how I can lure the Night King away from his circle.
“Is that so?” The Night King claps. “Perhaps you can show us.”
I exchange a quick look with Violetta, then rise to my feet. I stare once more at the glittering pin on his collar. Then I stand before the fire and start to twirl in time with the drums.
I draw upon everything I learned at the Fortunata Court. To my surprise, my body remembers it—I fall into a popular Kenettran dance and make an elegant sweep around the central pit. The other nobles stop to watch me. A memory of Raffaele appears unbidden in my mind, of him teaching me how to walk like a consort, how to flirt and dance. It distracts me, and suddenly, he is here—the illusion of his hand pressing lightly against the small of my back, the silk of his hair falling over his shoulders like a dark sapphire river. I can hear his laugh as he guides me in a circle. Patience, mi Adelinetta, says his beautiful voice. I see Enzo walking in as Raffaele prepares me for a night at the court, and I remember the young prince’s deep scarlet eyes, the way he admired my glittering mask.
Violetta tugs on my energy in warning. I glance gratefully at her, then clamp down hard on my emotions. Raffaele’s illusion wavers and vanishes. No one else seems to have seen what I created—perhaps I didn’t create anything. I take a deep breath. Raffaele isn’t here. He will never be here, so it is absurd of me to wish for it. I push the Daggers out of my thoughts and focus on the noblemen again. Violetta moves closer to the Night King, murmurs something to him, and laughs along. She’s helping me distract him.
Magiano leans back and watches me as I dance. The look on his face is interesting. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was actually pleased by the way I move. “Court-trained,” he murmurs, and this time he says it much too softly for the Night King to hear.
He has no idea that Violetta is very slowly whittling his power away right now, rendering him vulnerable to my illusions.
I make my way around the circle. As I do, I quietly weave a false diamond pin on the Night King’s collar. Then I cloak the real pin, making it invisible. As I make my first turn around the central pit, Magiano whispers something to the Night King. Then I see the Night King applauding.
I smile. Magiano has taken the false pin with him.
The Night King is staring at me now. I think back to the way Raffaele would respond to clients captivated by his charms. I lower my lashes and tilt my head in a shy bow.
The Night King applauds. “Magnificent!” he says as I sit again. “Where in the city do you live, my beauty? I would like to see you again.”
His voice makes my skin crawl, but I just laugh. “We are very new, sir,” I reply, changing the subject. “And know very little about you.”
This amuses him. He reaches for my hand and pulls me to him. “What do you want to know?” he murmurs. “I am one of the richest men in the world. Aren’t I, my friend?” He pauses to glance at Magiano.
Magiano keeps his eyes on me, his smile cunning. “The Night King is no ordinary nobleman, my love,” he says. There is an undercurrent of challenge in his words. “He sits on a pile of wealth and power that anyone would kill to have.”
The Night King grins at Magiano’s compliment. “Kenettra loves to trade with us. We enjoy her spoils more than anyone. Do you know how I earn that kind of trust in my power?” He puts an arm around me and nods at the soldiers with emblems on their sleeves. “I’ll tell you how. The world’s deadliest mercenaries always choose the most powerful to serve, and they choose to serve me. My city teems with them. So, if you ever want to see me, my dear, just whisper it into anyone’s ear on the streets. Word will get back to me. And I will send for you.”
Why are powerful men so stupid around a pretty face? Quietly, I begin to weave an illusion around the entire circle. It’s a subtle one, of blurry lantern light and raucous cheering, the illusion of people intoxicated with wine. The Night King rubs at his eyes before smiling at me. “Ah, my beauty,” he slurs. “I seem to have drunk too freely tonight.”
The world’s deadliest mercenaries choose to serve you, the whispers say, because they have yet to meet me. I lean over to kiss him on the cheek. As I do, I reach for his collar. Then I take the real diamond pin off and put it in the pocket within my silks.
The nobleman talking to the Night King now turns his attention to me. It takes me a moment to recognize him. I don’t know why I didn’t see him earlier.
It’s Magiano, and he stares at me with a lazy grin. His eyes don’t look slitted tonight—his pupils are dark and round instead, and his mess of braids is neatly tied in a high knot on his head. He is dressed in luxurious silks. I have no idea how he charmed his way to the Night King’s side, but there is no sign of his wild side here. He is as coiffed and charismatic as the wealthiest aristocrat, his appearance so different that I didn’t even know it was him. I almost feel like I can read his thoughts.
Ah. There you are, my love.
“This dancer is new to the city, my friend,” Magiano says to the Night King. He swings an arm good-naturedly around the other man’s shoulders. “I’ve seen her before. She’s very good—she is court-trained, I hear.”
I hide my irritation and just continue blushing. He’s taunting me, throwing little obstacles in my way. So be it. I smile back, wondering how I can lure the Night King away from his circle.
“Is that so?” The Night King claps. “Perhaps you can show us.”
I exchange a quick look with Violetta, then rise to my feet. I stare once more at the glittering pin on his collar. Then I stand before the fire and start to twirl in time with the drums.
I draw upon everything I learned at the Fortunata Court. To my surprise, my body remembers it—I fall into a popular Kenettran dance and make an elegant sweep around the central pit. The other nobles stop to watch me. A memory of Raffaele appears unbidden in my mind, of him teaching me how to walk like a consort, how to flirt and dance. It distracts me, and suddenly, he is here—the illusion of his hand pressing lightly against the small of my back, the silk of his hair falling over his shoulders like a dark sapphire river. I can hear his laugh as he guides me in a circle. Patience, mi Adelinetta, says his beautiful voice. I see Enzo walking in as Raffaele prepares me for a night at the court, and I remember the young prince’s deep scarlet eyes, the way he admired my glittering mask.
Violetta tugs on my energy in warning. I glance gratefully at her, then clamp down hard on my emotions. Raffaele’s illusion wavers and vanishes. No one else seems to have seen what I created—perhaps I didn’t create anything. I take a deep breath. Raffaele isn’t here. He will never be here, so it is absurd of me to wish for it. I push the Daggers out of my thoughts and focus on the noblemen again. Violetta moves closer to the Night King, murmurs something to him, and laughs along. She’s helping me distract him.
Magiano leans back and watches me as I dance. The look on his face is interesting. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was actually pleased by the way I move. “Court-trained,” he murmurs, and this time he says it much too softly for the Night King to hear.
He has no idea that Violetta is very slowly whittling his power away right now, rendering him vulnerable to my illusions.
I make my way around the circle. As I do, I quietly weave a false diamond pin on the Night King’s collar. Then I cloak the real pin, making it invisible. As I make my first turn around the central pit, Magiano whispers something to the Night King. Then I see the Night King applauding.
I smile. Magiano has taken the false pin with him.
The Night King is staring at me now. I think back to the way Raffaele would respond to clients captivated by his charms. I lower my lashes and tilt my head in a shy bow.
The Night King applauds. “Magnificent!” he says as I sit again. “Where in the city do you live, my beauty? I would like to see you again.”
His voice makes my skin crawl, but I just laugh. “We are very new, sir,” I reply, changing the subject. “And know very little about you.”
This amuses him. He reaches for my hand and pulls me to him. “What do you want to know?” he murmurs. “I am one of the richest men in the world. Aren’t I, my friend?” He pauses to glance at Magiano.
Magiano keeps his eyes on me, his smile cunning. “The Night King is no ordinary nobleman, my love,” he says. There is an undercurrent of challenge in his words. “He sits on a pile of wealth and power that anyone would kill to have.”
The Night King grins at Magiano’s compliment. “Kenettra loves to trade with us. We enjoy her spoils more than anyone. Do you know how I earn that kind of trust in my power?” He puts an arm around me and nods at the soldiers with emblems on their sleeves. “I’ll tell you how. The world’s deadliest mercenaries always choose the most powerful to serve, and they choose to serve me. My city teems with them. So, if you ever want to see me, my dear, just whisper it into anyone’s ear on the streets. Word will get back to me. And I will send for you.”
Why are powerful men so stupid around a pretty face? Quietly, I begin to weave an illusion around the entire circle. It’s a subtle one, of blurry lantern light and raucous cheering, the illusion of people intoxicated with wine. The Night King rubs at his eyes before smiling at me. “Ah, my beauty,” he slurs. “I seem to have drunk too freely tonight.”
The world’s deadliest mercenaries choose to serve you, the whispers say, because they have yet to meet me. I lean over to kiss him on the cheek. As I do, I reach for his collar. Then I take the real diamond pin off and put it in the pocket within my silks.
