Bad news? Cecilia’s not dead. I didn’t trigger the start of a war with a fruit cutter.
Good news? Everyone’s keeping their distance from me. I’m apparently very volatile. Ah, well, I thought they already knew that.
Irritating news? Astrea has been flirting with Lucien all night. They keep laughing and I keep wondering what the hell, exactly, is funny. Lucien isn’t even that funny.
Okay, well, maybe he is. A little. But she’s doing all the talking and he’s been chortling. He’s even granted her a dance. And four more. And she keeps pressing her breasts against his chest, the entire thing right there in his face and I can’t even tell if he finds her neckpiece interesting or he’s actually staring at her very generous bossom.
My fingers tighten on the perch of Cyrus’s shoulder as he twirls me across the floors, and I wish I could concentrate on how great of a dancer he is, but my gaze keeps flicking back to where Lucien’s hand grips Astrea’s waist as he moves her about with expertise. Her nose is practically near his neck and I just know she’s sighing because he smells great.
"Lyra," Cyrus murmurs, his lips brushing against the crown of my head. "You’re crushing my arm."
"Oh," I say, loosening my grip as embarrassment warms my cheeks. "I’m sorry."
His lips quirk into a small smile as we continue in the quick waltz. "Nothing to apologize for. It’s been an infuriatingly long day. While your presence is forever a charm, I would do anything to be done with this Summit."
I glance up at him. "You’re hosting. It’s supposed to be fun."
He shakes his head. "We cannot bear to sleep too deep without our swords by our beds with the enemy taking shelter in our homes. Every time someone moans or laughs too loudly, we wonder if they’re being killed."
"Relax," I laugh. "We both know the terms fixed in place says we cannot, on any account, attack Voss."
That doesn’t help his brooding expression, but he seems to wave it off with a blink and smiles down at me. "I heard a great deal of the last stage of the Selection. Sad that I wasn’t there to see it."
My eyes narrow. "Says the one who stole away at night like a jilted lover."
Cyrus regards me strangely. "I stole away? You refused to see me."
"I did?"
His black eyebrows climb to this forehead. "King Lucien made it very clear that you had rejected my offer and wouldn’t be seeing me. I left him a note for you, even." He looks at me. "Did he not extend it to you?"
My lips part in surprise. "He did not." I cast a glare off in the man’s direction. Not that he even notices, dancing now with a human, a brunette with big baby blue eyes. "What was in it? The note?"
He shrugs. "A means to reach me, if you changed your mind. And a couple of things that may be found inappropriate, now that you are claimed and wed."
My mind whirls around his words. And I cannot help but think, in anger, that Lucien is the absolute worst thing that’s happened to me. I can only imagine what he did with the note. Probably promised Cyrus he would give it to me and the moment the man turned around, he chucked it in the fire.
Bastard.
The music changes and Cyrus nods with a small smile, lifting our hands high as he twirls me in a shift of partners.
I start walking straight to the bar when a hand closes around my waist, tugging me into a hard chest.
"I’d take offense at your earlier display," Rafe whispers against my ear. "But I had secretly wished you aimed for me instead."
I try shaking off his hand, but he doesn’t let go. I feel the weight of stares pressing against me from every direction in the hall at Rafael’s indiscretion. Sure enough, Lucien chooses that one moment to glance over and the heat of his gaze sears into my back like an arrow to a target.
It makes me want to run far away from Rafe.
"I’m not that stupid," I say. "You were goading him on purpose. Had he lashed out at you, this fragile moment of peace would have been broken. Nowhere in history has it been heard that a king struck another king and it didn’t start a war."

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