Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(60)

“That’s quite a talent.” I’d only danced with Edwin twice because he’d insisted, and I was too tired to argue.

Rhys’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So. The Earl of Falser. Is he the one?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not unless I want to spend the rest of my life hearing about his clothes and gym equipment.”

Rhys pressed his thumb against my pounding pulse. “Good.”

The way he said it made it sound like the earl had escaped death by a hair’s breadth.

“I should return to the dance,” I said, even though that was the last thing I wanted. “Elin must be going crazy.”

“Going?”

I laughed my first real laugh of the night. “You’re terrible.”

“But not wrong.”

This was the Rhys I’d missed. The dry humor, the glimpses of his hidden softness. This was the real Rhys.

“How does twenty-four feel?” he asked as we walked back to the ballroom.

“Like twenty-three, except hungrier and more tired. How does thirty-four feel?” He’d turned thirty-four during the weeks we’d been apart. I’d thought about calling him on his birthday but chickened out at the last minute.

“Like thirty-three, except stronger and smarter.”

A grin touched his mouth at my half-amused, half-annoyed huff.

When we returned to the ball, we found Elin waiting for us at the entrance with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Good. You found her,” she said without looking at Rhys. “Your Highness, where have you been?”

“I had to use the ladies’ room.” It was only half a lie.

“For forty minutes? You missed your dance with Prince Demetrios, who just left.” Elin sighed. “Never mind. There are more potential suitors here. Go, quickly. The night is almost over.”

Thank God for that.

I resumed my dances. Elin watched me like a hawk, and I was too terrified to look in Rhys’s direction lest something show on my face that I didn’t want her to see.

“Am I that boring?”

“I’m sorry?” I dragged my attention back to my current partner Steffan, the son of the Duke of Holstein.

“You keep looking over my shoulder. Either there’s something fascinating happening behind me, or my in-depth analysis of the palace’s architectural style isn’t as scintillating as I thought.”

A blush warmed my cheeks. “My apologies.” None of my previous dance partners had picked up on my wandering attention, and I’d assumed he wouldn’t either. “That was terribly rude of me.”

“No apologies necessary, Your Highness.” Steffan’s eyes crinkled in a good-natured smile. “I must admit, I could’ve come up with a better conversation topic than the history of neoclassicism. That’s what happens when I’m nervous. I spout all sorts of useless facts.”

I laughed. “There are worse ways to deal with nerves, I suppose.”

My skin suddenly burned, and I stumbled for a second before I caught myself.

“Are you all right?” Steffan asked, looking concerned.

I nodded, forcing myself not to look at Rhys, but I could feel the heat of his stare on my back.

Focus on Steffan. He was the most enjoyable dance partner I’d had all night, and he checked every box for an eligible Prince Consort: funny, charming, and handsome, not to mention the bluest of blue bloods.

I liked him. I just didn’t like him romantically.

“It seems our time has come to an end,” Steffan said when the music wound down. The night was finally over. “But perhaps we could go out sometime, just the two of us? The new skating rink on Nyhausen is quite nice, and they serve the best hot chocolate in the city.”

A date.

I wanted to say no because I didn’t want to lead him on, but that was the whole point of the ball—to find a husband, and I couldn’t get a husband without dating first.

“That sounds lovely,” I said.

Steffan grinned. “Excellent. I’ll call you later and we’ll set up the details.”

“It’s a plan.”

I left to give my closing speech thanking everyone for attending, and after the guests filtered out one by one, I hurried out of the ballroom, eager to leave before Elin could get a hold of me.

I made it halfway to the exit before someone blocked my path.

“Your Highness.”

I stifled a groan. “Lord Erhall.”

The Speaker of Parliament stared down his nose at me. He was a tall, spindly man with graying hair and eyes like a reptile’s, cold and predatory. He was also one of the most powerful people in the country, hence why he received an invite despite not being in the eligible bachelor age range.

“His Majesty and I missed you at yesterday’s meeting,” he said. “We discussed the new proposed tax reform legislation, which I’m sure you would have contributed greatly to.”

I didn’t miss the mocking undertone. I sometimes attended the weekly meetings my grandfather had with the Speaker, and Erhall had insinuated multiple times he thought I had no business being there.

He was one of the Parliament members Edvard had referred to when he’d said there were people who didn’t want to see a woman on the throne.