Fireblood (Frostblood Saga #2)(11)
“So do you,” I replied. “That color suits you.”
“All colors suit me,” Marella replied, her grin irreverent.
A jowly middle-aged nobleman approached, raising a goblet of wine in greeting before bowing deeply to Marella. “My dear Lady Marella, why don’t you introduce me?”
She inclined her head. “Lord Prospero, this is Lady Ruby.”
My brows drew together. I was no lady. I wished they wouldn’t try so hard to pass me off as one.
Rather than bowing, Lord Prospero merely inclined his head. “So, you are the Fireblood of such renown. How kind of the king to show you such… hospitality.” His eyes swept me up and down. “Charming.”
It wasn’t lost on me that he kept a few feet of distance between us. I performed a quick mental check, making sure my body temperature was close to normal, at least for me. Nerves made my gift harder to control, and the last thing I wanted was to embarrass Arcus in front of his guests. Or worse, hurt his chances of getting the court and the dignitaries to sign the peace accords. I needed them all to see that I wasn’t a threat, that I was about as volatile as cooled porridge, that peace was possible and Firebloods were not to be feared. Much as it irked me to admit it, even just to myself, a part of me craved the court’s approval.
The nobleman turned his attention back to Marella. “What a divine job you’ve done with the ballroom. The pride of the kingdom, I dare say. You show the indisputable beauty and power of frost.” His eyes met mine in something like challenge.
“Marella is very talented,” I agreed neutrally.
“But surely you must acknowledge the strength of ice,” he said. “You can build an entire castle from it.” He gestured to the pillars.
“The original castle is made from stone,” I pointed out.
He gave me a pitying look as if I’d said something embarrassingly naive. “The newer additions are made of pure ice.”
“I’m afraid I tend to avoid those wings.” I tried to relax my tense jaw while scanning the crowd for one of the footmen bearing trays of ice wine. At least if I were holding a glass, I’d have a reason not to grab Lord Paunch by the collar and ask him what he thought of the power of fire. One of the footmen caught my eye, mostly because he was openly staring at me, then snapped his head forward. Something about his thick blond hair and the square shape of his face seemed familiar. But Lord Prospero interrupted my thoughts with a dismissive laugh.
“Well, of course you do. You’d end up soaked to the skin from all that melted ice. I imagine your kind doesn’t like to get wet. In fact, I’ve heard Firebloods avoid bathing more than absolutely necessary.”
I heard Marella’s indrawn breath.
Do not react. Do not let him win.
He smirked. “Or perhaps that’s true of peasants in general.” His contemptuous drawl snapped the last thread of my patience.
I took a step closer. “Actually, I love baths. Provided they’re nice and hot.”
I curled my hand in front of his face, allowing a searing flame to leap up in my palm. Like all Tempesian aristocrats, he was a Frostblood, but I didn’t think he was a very powerful one. His cold didn’t permeate the air the way Arcus’s or Brother Thistle’s did. I saw fear in his eyes, but instead of taking pity on him, I let the flame grow. He reared back, the flames dancing in his constricting pupils. It was so satisfying to remind one of these overstuffed lords that I was no longer a prisoner who existed for their entertainment.
Marella’s forced laugh broke the tension, like a fingernail popping a soap bubble. “Oh, Lady Ruby, you certainly know how to take a joke too far. Put your fire away before you mark up my dress. The seamstress would never forgive me if I ruined her creation only minutes into the ball.”
I exhaled slowly, lowering my cooling hand to my side.
Lord Prospero regained his equilibrium enough to lift his drink in a shaky salute. “Enjoy your time here. While it lasts.” And he pointed himself toward the dessert table.
When I turned back to Marella, she regarded me with a speculative expression. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
I swallowed and shrugged. I had enjoyed threatening him. More than I wanted to admit.
“They will always bait you,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean you have to swallow the hook so eagerly.”
“I don’t know why I let him get to me.”
“Because,” she mused, tapping a finger to her lips, “you’re a fox among wolves.”
I considered the analogy. “You’d describe yourself as a wolf?”
“Wolves are lovely, agile creatures with killer instincts,” she said, a twinkle in her violet eyes. “I don’t mind the comparison.”
“Well, everyone here thinks I’m the wolf. Though sometimes I feel more like a rabbit.”
Just then the hair on the back of my neck lifted. I turned my head to see the same blond footman staring at me with a strangely intent expression. As I tried to puzzle out where I’d seen him before, he sidled over and spoke to another footman hovering by a group of courtiers. The two then broke off and moved into the crowd, trays of ice wine held aloft. Something about the group of courtiers held my attention, though. They stood too close, heads bent as if to better hear one another whisper, and they kept darting glances around the ballroom.