The Winner's Curse (The Winner's Trilogy, #1)(50)

It was Ronan. “I’m ashamed of myself,” he said. “Heartily ashamed, to be so late that you had to dance with such a boring partner as Caran. How did that happen?”

“I blackmailed him.”

“Ah.” Ronan’s eyes grew worried. “So things aren’t going well.”

“Kestrel!” Jess threaded through milling people and came close. “We didn’t think you’d come. You should have told us. If we’d known, we’d have been here from the first.” Jess took Kestrel’s hand and drew her to the edge of the dance floor. Ronan followed. Behind them, dancers began the second round. “As it was,” Jess continued, “we barely made it into the carriage. Ronan was so listless, saying he saw no point in coming if he couldn’t be with you.”

“Sweet sister,” said Ronan, “is it now my turn to share private things about you?”

“Silly. I have no secrets. Neither do you, where Kestrel is concerned. Well?” Jess looked triumphantly between them. “Do you, Ronan?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and thumb, brows rumpling into a pained expression. “Not anymore.”

“You look lovely, Kestrel,” Jess said. “Wasn’t I right about the dress? And the color will go perfectly with the iced apple wine.”

Kestrel felt giddy, whether from the relief of seeing her friends or because of Ronan’s forced confession, she wasn’t sure. She smiled. “You chose the fabric of my dress to coordinate with wine?”

“A special wine. Lady Neril is very proud of it. She told me months ago that she planned to import several casks from the capital for the ball, and it occurred to me that it is simply too easy to match a dress only to jewels, dagger, and shoes. A glass of wine in one’s hand is rather like a jewel, isn’t it, a large, liquid one?”

“I’d better have a glass then. To complete my ensemble.” Kestrel didn’t quite forget her promise to Arin not to drink, but rather willed it away along with everything else about him.

“Oh, yes,” said Jess. “You must. Don’t you think so, Ronan?”

“I don’t think. I am thinking of nothing other than what Kestrel could be thinking, and whether she will dance with me. If I’m not mistaken, there is one final dance before this legendary wine is served.”

Kestrel’s happiness faltered. “I’d love to, but … won’t your parents mind?”

Ronan and Jess exchanged a glance. “They’re not here,” Ronan said. “They’ve left to spend the winter season in the capital.”

Which meant that, were they here, they would object—as would any parents, given the scandal.

Ronan read Kestrel’s face. “It doesn’t matter what they think. Dance with me.”

He took her hand, and for the first time in a long while, she felt safe. He pulled her to the center of the floor and into the motions of the dance.

Ronan didn’t speak for a few moments, then touched a slim braid that curved in a tendril along Kestrel’s cheek. “This is pretty.”

The memory of Arin’s hands in her hair made her stiffen.

“Gorgeous?” Ronan tried again. “Transcendent? Kestrel, the right adjective hasn’t been invented to describe you.”

She attempted a light tone. “What will ladies do, when this kind of exaggerated flirtation is no longer the fashion? We shall be spoiled.”

“You know it’s not mere flirtation,” Ronan said. “You’ve always known.”

And Kestrel had, it was true that she had, even if she hadn’t wanted to shake the knowledge out of her mind and look at it, truly see it. She felt a dull spark of dread.

“Marry me, Kestrel.”

She held her breath.

“I know things have been hard lately,” Ronan continued, “and that you don’t deserve it. You’ve had to be so strong, so proud, so cunning. But all of this unpleasantness will go away the instant we announce our engagement. You can be yourself again.”

But she was strong. Proud. Cunning. Who did he think she was, if not the person who mercilessly beat him at every Bite and Sting game, who gave him Irex’s death-price and told him exactly what to do with it? Yet Kestrel bit back her words. She leaned into the curve of his arm. It was easy to dance with him. It would be easy to say yes.

“Your father will be happy. My wedding gift to you will be the finest piano the capital can offer.”

Kestrel glanced into his eyes.

“Or keep yours,” he said hastily. “I know you’re attached to it.”

“It’s just … you are very kind.”

He gave a short, nervous laugh. “Kindness has little to do with it.”

The dance slowed. It would end soon.

“So?” Ronan had stopped, even though the music continued and dancers swirled around them. “What … well, what do you think?”

Kestrel didn’t know what to think. Ronan was offering everything she could want. Why, then, did his words sadden her? Why did she feel like something had been lost? Carefully, she said, “The reasons you’ve given aren’t reasons to marry.”

“I love you. Is that reason enough?”

Maybe. Maybe it would have been. But as the music drained from the air, Kestrel saw Arin on the fringes of the crowd. He watched her, his expression oddly desperate. As if he, too, were losing something, or it was already lost.