One Dark Throne (Three Dark Crowns #2)(73)

They step onto the floor, and the crowd parts to make room, priestess guards gathering around the edge. Bree stays only a moment, smiling and twirling in circles before she wanders away to find her own partner. She will not have much trouble. Bree is luminous as always, and her festival gown is easily the most beautiful: strapless and black, with silver beads sewn into the fabric.

Billy turns Mirabella about, keeping close to the Westwood table.

“You are a very fine dancer,” Mirabella says.

“I ought to be, after six years of forced lessons. I can do most any dance you would require, for any formal occasion.”

“You probably know dances that I have never heard of.”

“Possibly. But don’t worry. I’m also a very fine teacher.” His eyes are warm. Charming and wrinkled at the corners. For a moment, it seems as if Arsinoe’s eyes are boring into her back, and Billy misses his step.

“What is wrong?” she asks.

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “Nothing. I only thought I saw . . . Never mind.”

She tugs Billy close and squeezes him.

“I think I can feel her, too,” she whispers.

They keep dancing but on stiff legs. When he turns her toward the poisoner table, she glares at Katharine and hopes her little sister can feel the hatred from them both. “Look,” Billy says when they turn back to the Westwoods. “My father is here.”

William Chatworth is leaning across her table, talking to Sara. He is leaning so far that his sleeves are nearly dipping into their wine cups.

“He didn’t tell me he was going to be here.” Billy spins her faster. “He’s probably angry that I didn’t tell him about our betrothal.” He pulls her sharply around.

“Ouch!”

“Oh! I’m sorry,” he says. His eyes narrow at his father walking around the table now to take Mirabella’s empty seat beside Sara. “Nothing distracts me quite like he does. Did I hurt you?”

“No. You—” She stops. For a moment, she thinks she is imagining it, but there is Joseph. Watching them from the crowd. “What are you . . . ?” she whispers.

Joseph shakes his head. He steps back to disappear into the other guests, but Bree has seen him too, and grabs him and drags him into a dance, chattering furiously into his ear.

“Bree,” Mirabella calls, and Bree presses her lips together in a very serious, un-Bree-like line. She dances Joseph closer.

“He should not be here,” Bree hisses, holding on to him with a grip like iron.

“Why not?” Billy asks. “He’s my foster brother, isn’t he?”

“Billy,” Joseph says. He glances around furtively. His dark hair is brushed back, and those storm-blue eyes of his can take Mirabella to the ground with one look. “Jules is here somewhere.”

“Oh.” Billy pulls Mirabella slightly away. “What is she doing here? When did she get back?”

“I can’t explain now,” Joseph says. “And I can’t stay. I’ll find you later.” He spins Bree out and lets go to slip smoothly into the crowd.

“That was strange,” says Mirabella.

“I am going to tell the priestesses he is here,” Bree whispers, but Mirabella stops her.

“No, Bree. It was nothing. It is harmless.”

Bree seems unsure, but eventually she nods, and goes off to find another dancing partner.

“I would know what happened to Arsinoe,” Billy says. “I want to know where Jules took her. I want to know. . . .”

“So do I,” says Mirabella, and turns to glare again at Katharine.

Jules catches the black-cloaked figure when they have stopped to watch the dancing from behind the folds of a curtained doorway. She grasps the figure from behind and covers their mouth, lifting them up so that, despite Jules’s shorter size, the cloaked figure’s legs kick uselessly in the air.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks, tearing down the hood and depositing Arsinoe in a corner.

“Stop grabbing at me,” Arsinoe whispers, arms slapping at Jules’s shoulders. “You’ll get us both caught!” She pulls her hood back up to hide her face. “I only wanted to see.”

“I told you to stay back and that I would watch out for her. Didn’t you trust me? And how did you slip away from Joseph?”

“Oh, like it was hard,” Arsinoe says sarcastically. “Ditching Camden was the real challenge.”

“Where are they now?”

“Here, probably. Looking for me.”

Jules purses her lips. She takes Arsinoe by the shoulder and begins to haul her out, down the quiet corridor, toward one of the servants’ side exits to the street.

“You are reckless,” Jules says.

“I know, but—” Arsinoe struggles out of her grip.

“Don’t make me use my war gift to throw you out of here.”

“You would never,” Arsinoe says, and grins. But the smile slides off her face. “Did you see the way they were dancing? Mirabella and Billy?”

Jules puts an arm around her. When she shoves her toward the door now, it is much more gently.

“You say Mirabella loves you. Well, so does Billy. They think you’re dead, Arsinoe. They’re probably missing you together.”