Ash Princess (Ash Princess Trilogy #1)(67)

“Little, but not none,” I point out, fighting to keep my tone level. “Besides, you don’t even know how to dance.”

“I watched a few of them,” he says with a shrug, resting his hand on the small of my back and taking my free hand in his. It’s the proper placement for the glissadant that the orchestra is playing, but his steps are clumsy. The warmth of his touch seeps through the metal and silk of my dress.

“Not enough,” I say, wincing as his foot comes down hard on mine. “Follow my lead.”

He sighs, but does as I say, letting me guide him into something resembling the complex steps of the dance. We almost blend into the twirl of the other dancers around us, but I’m not foolish enough to believe that people aren’t watching me, wondering who the newcomer is who chose to dance with the Ash Princess, of all people.

I wonder if he’s thinking about how this ballroom felt before the siege, though we were far too young to ever attend balls when they were held here. Our parents must have, though. They would have danced together and laughed in this room, sipping wine from the same gilded goblets the Kalovaxians use now, raising toasts to my mother and the gods and goddesses, to Astrea.

I try to remember that I’m supposed to be angry with him for what Artemisia said, but having him this close is disconcerting. The last time we were this close, he was kissing me. He was holding my wrists tightly in his grasp, refusing to meet my eyes. He won’t look at me now either, but I think that’s less to do with rejection this time and more because he can feel the anger rolling off me.

He doesn’t know what to do with it, and I’m worried that if I open my mouth, I’ll snap at him and everyone will stare, so we fall into an uncomfortable silence that feels like a different version of the pinching game. Which of us will break first?

This time, I win. He starts rambling, eyes darting around the room like he’s afraid to look at me.

“This seemed too good an opportunity to pass up, and we couldn’t hear anything from the Shadow spots. Artemisia conjured the illusions: I’m a visiting duke’s son from Elcourt, Artemisia is a reclusive country lady, and Heron decided it was best for him to stay invisible and mill around the open sun—or rather, moon—pavilions—”

“Do you trust me?” I interrupt, because the more he talks around the argument we’re pointedly not having, the bigger it feels.

His brow furrows and he twirls me under his arm, giving me a chance to survey the room.

I’m relieved to realize that most people aren’t watching us; they’re too busy with their own private dramas to care about mine. But some people still are, including the Kaiser. When my eyes meet his mid-twirl, my stomach turns to lead.

“I…Why would you ask that?” Blaise says when the twirl ends and he steadies me again with his hand on my back.

It’s not an answer, but it might as well be. I lower my voice to a whisper. “I’m not risking everything to play games, Blaise. I’m not a monkey trained to do tricks for your amusement—”

“I never said—” His voice rises before he catches himself, glancing around to see if anyone noticed, but the other dancers all seem engrossed in their own conversations. Still, he lowers his voice. “Where is this coming from?”

“Art said it was your idea to have me poison Crescentia. There’s enough Encatrio for two people and there are plenty of others in this castle who prove much more of a threat than one spoiled girl. So tell me it’s not just another fire you want me to walk through to prove my loyalty.”

His shoulder muscle tightens under my hand and his skin almost feels warmer.

“It’s not your loyalty I’m worried about,” he says after a moment. “It’s your mind. The Kalovaxians have had you for ten years, Theo. That isn’t something that’s easy to leave behind.”

He’s only giving voice to my own fears, but the words still sting. “I told you, I’m fine. And you’re in no position to be judging someone’s sanity. Don’t tell me five years in the mines didn’t leave their mark on you.”

I can feel his temper roiling, but I don’t flinch from it.

“Every move we make is dangerous, Blaise,” I continue. “And I need people who I can trust. Who trust me.”

He laughs, but it’s a joyless sound. “And yet you clearly don’t trust me, Theo.”

I want to deny it, but he’s right. I believe we want the same things; I believe he would lay down his life to protect me. But I also believe it’s a secondhand loyalty, filtered through his promise to Ampelio. It’s diluted, bound by duty, not necessarily by choice. I thought maybe he cared about me when we kissed, as a person instead of a symbol, but I can still feel his hands around my wrists holding me away, the awkward way he wouldn’t meet my eyes. I’m a duty to him, and that is all.

He’s right: I can’t put my trust in him any more than he can put his trust in me.

“Give me a reason,” I say. “One real reason to poison Cress.”

He licks his lips, eyes darting around, searching for an answer. “They say she’ll be a prinzessin soon enough.”

“We both know she’ll never be a prinzessin. S?ren will be dead long before she has a chance to marry him,” I point out. “Give me a real reason and I’ll do it.”