Snow Like Ashes(31)

“Golden leaves,” Theron curses, catches himself, and grimaces, the paper in his hands cracking through his careful foundation of manners. “I’m sorry. This isn’t—it’s nothing.”

I frown. “You wrote that?”

His mouth tightens. Fighting with admitting to it or getting this conversation back on course.

I motion to the paper he gently sets on a table. “It’s good,” I say. “You’re talented.”

A little of Theron’s panic ebbs away. “Thank you,” he says cautiously as the corners of his lips lift. It’s not Mather’s full-face smile, but it still disarms me, making my legs weak under the layers of skirts and petticoats.

I clear my throat, pulling my focus off Noam’s shockingly attractive son and back onto why I’m here. Even if Sir or Mather shows up now, we would have to talk in front of Theron. So I lift my skirt in a slightly more ladylike way and walk toward him.

“Apparently I’m wanted at a ball,” I say. “I don’t want to risk incurring the wrath of Rose. Are you on your way there as well?”

Theron nods and puts a hand on my arm as I pass him, gently enough for me to feel an indescribable tingle rush up and down my body. A single spark of lightning created by his fingers on that one small spot of my arm.

“I am. Would you mind an escort? I thought it might be a good time to get to know each other.” His eyes flick back to the parchment. “Well, properly.”

How far away could the ballroom be? “Yes, thank you.”

Theron offers me his arm. I pause, eyebrow cocked, before slipping my hand through it and resting my fingers on the green velvet of his sleeve.

“So,” I start as we pull to the left in the hall, “you’re the king of Cordell’s son. How’s that?”

Theron chuckles. “Beneficial sometimes, horrible others. You’re beautiful—how’s that?”

The heel of my shoe catches at a weird angle and I stumble forward. No one has called me that before. Dendera said I was a “pretty thing” once, and Mather . . . I exhale, running through every interaction I’ve ever had with him, and deflating a little as I do. He’s never said anything like that to me, and until now, I never realized he hadn’t—or how much I wanted him to. It makes me agonizingly aware of the fact that Theron’s looking at me, and I just stare at him, not sure what to do.

“Forgive me,” Theron says, his face pale. “I shouldn’t have been so forward. We’re still getting to know each other. I promise, over time you’ll see I’m much more charming than I first appear.”

“Well, I hope we get plenty of time alone together so you can convince me of your charm.” My eyes flash wide when I hear what I said. “Oh. No. I mean—well, I mean that, but not as presumptuously as it sounded.”

Theron bobs his head. “We have all the time you desire, Lady Meira. I will not rush you.”

We make another turn and one of the two grand staircases sweeps down in front of us. The giggly chatter of party guests mingles with the music lifting from the ballroom below, something light and string-based. Food smells drift up—honey ham, lavender tarts, the sharper tang of liquor, the nutty aroma of coffee. For a second I just breathe it all in, my stomach grumbling under the lush scents, then—

“Wait,” I say, my mind working over his words. “Won’t rush me to what?”

Theron’s face flashes with confusion, putting pieces together I can’t see, and he pulls back, taking his arm away from me. “No one’s told you,” he breathes.

At the same time, the pieces click in my head. “You know! You know what Noam and Sir and Mather—”

Theron nods. He’s got a serenity to him that Noam doesn’t have, something graceful and calm that makes every move look deliberate. “Yes,” he whispers. He looks to the railing, the ballroom below, and back at me. “I . . . I’m sorry. I assumed someone told you. My father and King Mather have come to an arrangement. We aid Winter—”

I clap with delight. Sir did it! Winter has an ally.

But Theron isn’t done. “—so long as we are linked with Winter.”

My hands freeze mid-clap. “Linked?”

He exhales. I feel him take my hand before I see it, his skin warming my fingers in a grip that’s tight, intimate.

I jerk back, slamming into a small decorative table behind me. The vase on it falls over and clatters on the floor, water and flowers sullying the thick carpet.

But I just stare at Theron. King Mather made a deal with Noam.

He linked Cordell with Winter. Through me.





CHAPTER 11

I’M A PAWN they used to create an alliance with Cordell.

My tongue sticks in my throat, choking me as I stand there, staring at Theron. This has to be a figment of my overly active imagination, because the king of Cordell would never agree to wed his son—the heir of one of the richest Rhythms—to a mere peasant from a Season. I’m wrong. I have to be.

“Tell me Mather linked us to Cordell through a treaty, or something. A meaningless piece of paper,” I beseech him. “Tell me this isn’t . . . what I think it is.”

But Theron doesn’t say anything, which only feeds my panic more. His mouth opens absently, but he just sighs, his eyes flitting over me in silence.