A Dance of Dragons: Series Starter Bundle (5 page)

Sparing just one quick glance at the door,
wishing she could say goodbye and look into Mikza's eyes one more
time before the ball, Leena followed her sister outside.

Four

For what felt like the one hundredth time that
evening, Leena reached out her hand, accepting an offer to
dance.

This time it was Lord Padmir, a wifeless and
childless bachelor far too old for her. At least she hoped her
father wouldn't actually consider him. While hunched shoulders and
a rotund belly wouldn’t concern the king, the man's falling
fortunes would likely be enough to remove him from the list.

A leer spread across his lips, sending a
shiver down Leena's back. She spared a glance over her shoulder,
searching for Mikza. Still in their spot, he watched on, lips
pressed in a tight line. Normally that move was made in anger, but
by the slight glimmer in his eye, Leena thought he might be holding
in a laugh.

Glad someone is enjoying himself.

She rolled her eyes, turning back to the
lord, trying to keep her small dinner firmly in her stomach.

He bowed.

She curtsied.

Then the music began anew, and he pulled her
from the sideline into the center of the ballroom, gripping her
waist tighter than was comfortable. Luckily, it was frowned upon to
talk during a dance, so Leena just had to smile and step, two
motions that came naturally to her.

After a few spins, Leena found herself in a
daze. Eyes glazing over, she began to picture Lord Padmir as Mikza.
Young, handsome, in love with her. It made her giggle to imagine
people's reactions—the shock that would spread around the room if a
soldier walked out with the princess and put all of their dancing
to shame.

Because the two of them would have done just
that.

They would have blazed, setting fire to the
room, blinding everyone with the force of their passion. No one
would be able to look away. All would stand transfixed, jealous,
and curious, in awe.

Tonight.

The word had become her prayer for the
evening. Repeating it soothed her, snipping the nervous threads
coiling through her limbs. Tonight she would be gone. Tonight she
would be free. And she would never have to pretend for any man ever
again. Mikza would be hers and she would be his, and everyone they
met would know it.

Tonight.

The music began to wind down and the vision
faded, replaced by graying hairs and a too wide smile that made
Leena flinch.

"Enjoying ourselves?"

She stiffened, feet halting immediately.
Leena knew that voice.

"Of course, my King," Lord Padmir rushed,
bowing so quickly that he almost toppled over.

Leena moved more slowly, cautiously. Her
father had paid her no attention all night, but it seemed that gift
was finally gone. Standing behind her, he looked as commanding as
ever. Off the throne, but still graced with the crown and an air of
arrogance, King Razzaq knew how to impose. And at that moment, his
umber eyes glimmered with intelligence, putting Leena on edge.

What did he know?

"Yes, my King," she said, forcing a smile
through her teeth, trying to calm her suddenly racing pulse. "Who
could do anything less than enjoy such a wonderful party,
especially in honor of the wedding of my dear sister?"

"Who indeed?" He smiled, too sweetly. Eyes
flicking to the lord, he said, "Leave us."

Leena gulped, resisting the urge to find
Mikza, to make sure he was all right. Looking at him now would only
encourage her father's suspicions, would only endanger them
both.

"You seem happy tonight."

"Of course, Father," she answered, mouth
suddenly dry. "I am only excited that it is now my time to be
matched."

"Do not lie to me, girl," he said, gripping
her wrist tight enough to bruise. To an outside observer, it might
look like a touch of affection. But his eyes were furious. "I have
heard it all before. Do not forget that I had sisters, and there
were other daughters before you."

"I'm not sure what you mean, Father." Leena
fought to keep her voice even, but the pain in her wrist only
mirrored the fear in her heart, both making her body shake.

"Enough," he growled, pulling her in close,
digging his fingers into her arm. "You will share one more dance of
my choosing and then retire for the evening. Understood?"

Leena nodded, not trusting her voice. His
rings were scraping her skin, chafing it raw, so she closed her
eyes against the hurt.

Somehow, he knew.

Yasmine. It was the only explanation Leena
could think of, but they had given nothing away.

Mikza?

Leena forced her neck still, fought to keep
her head from jerking to the side, from finding him. Moments ago
she had seen his smile, was it possible he had so quickly been
taken? That things could so quickly change?

"Good," the king sneered, releasing Leena
and stepping back. Placing his hand at her back, he pushed her
forward. Not forceful enough to be noticed, but with power. Leena
could not run, she could only step where her father wished, feeling
like she marched to her grave and not to a dance partner.

"Lord Biitar," her father called, voice
suddenly jovial. The old lord turned, Leena recognized him.

"My King," he said, bowing informally in
greeting. No surprise shone on his mature face. This moment had
been planned, Leena was sure of it. "May I introduce my son,
Amosaan. Amo to our closest companions, which I hope you will soon
become."

A young man stepped forward, skin firm with
hardened muscles. Tattoos of curved daggers and harsh waves
decorated his forearms. His face was pleasant, jaw square with soft
lips and eyes a muddled hazel, unusual for the Ourthuri. She knew
him, of course, but couldn't remember interacting with him before.
Something about his smile seemed too kind to be trusted.

"Our daughter, Princess Leenaka," her father
said, shoving her closer to the boy. She curtsied and offered her
hand. He lifted it gently, placing a soft kiss on the backside of
her palm. Fighting the urge to scream and run, Leena let her hand
fall slowly back to her side.

"We think you should share a dance. The two
of you certainly make a fine," King Razzaq said, then paused, eyes
shifting to Leena, grip tightening just enough to make her listen,
"match."

Leena caught the gasp before it slipped past
her tongue, but the triumphant look on her father's face was enough
to tell her something had been given away. So this was the boy he
wanted to match her with, the man he wanted her to marry.

"Princess?" Amo said, offering his hand to
lead her to the floor.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Her mind protested, but under the watchful
eyes of her father, Leena could do nothing but smile and accept.
Amo led her out, placed his hand on her hip, and confidently began
the steps.

Shorter than Mikza—that was what she noticed
first. He had none of Mikza's grace, none of his fluidity. This boy
was stone where Mikza was water. His movements jerked her around,
pulling instead of leading, commanding instead of sharing.

He was a son of Ourthuro.

He was everything she wanted to escape.

Tonight.

Leena tried to calm herself, but the prayer
wasn't working. As she spun, her eyes shifted around the room,
spotting Mikza unharmed and still standing guard.

Safe.

He was still safe.

But for how long? Her father had to know
something. Or hinting at her match would not have been so
satisfying to him, so sinister. Like a ghost, Leena still felt his
grip on her arm, felt the rings of a king taking hold. He would
never let her go.

The room began to blur. Heat built under her
skin. The columns circling the dance floor seemed to expand, to
close in, a beautiful prison, a golden cage. The laughter in the
room grew unbearable, the candles blinded, the colors grew so
saturated that she could hardly make out one person from the next.
Suddenly her father's face seemed to loom in the air, to grow
larger, an image she could not escape.

"Princess?" Amo said, breaking her
trance.

They had stopped without her realizing. The
room felt silent without music, empty, everyone seemed to be
staring at her.

But they weren't. Leena looked around, her
anxiety becoming too much, but no eyes met hers. No one had been
watching, not really.

"I apologize," she said, voice hoarse. Leena
took a deep breath. "I suddenly do not feel very well. I think I
will retire to my rooms."

Amo tugged on her arm, and in her weakened
state, Leena fell forward. His hands caught her, just as her
fingers landed on his chest, trying to find her balance. Just like
a young couple in love might look, as though her father had planned
it himself.

"If we're to be matched," he whispered,
voice low, tone like iron, "I demand more respect than you have
shown tonight. My wife will know her place, one way or
another."

And then he released her, warm smile back on
his lips. "Are you all right?" He cooed, settling her back on her
feet, lightly running his hand from her shoulder to her elbow
before letting go.

Leena could not think of a word to say. Her
dry lips seemed glued shut. Her body trembled, and she felt as
though she might faint. So without a response, she turned and
walked slowly out of the ballroom, into the shadows, the cool
night, wondering how long she could hide before someone would find
her.

Fearing who that someone might be.

Five

"Leena?" Mikza's soft voice called, breaking her
reverie.

She had found her way onto the balcony
outside the ballroom, seeking the comfort of the moonlight. The
stone floor was lined with shadows cast by the candlelight inside
the room, creating stripes as the beams broke through the spaces
between each towering column.

"Mikza," she breathed, hating how weak she
sounded. Maybe she was that princess after all, that girl with no
backbone, the girl who hid instead of fighting.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, just loud
enough to be heard. Standing four feet away, still in the doorway,
he seemed a lifetime from her. But he could come no closer. They
were still in public, still surrounded by her father's guests, and
a guard was not supposed to talk to his charge.

Leena kept her gaze focused on the rippling
ocean below, letting the rolling waves and the sound of his voice
soothe her. If her father suspected Mikza, he would be locked up by
now—maybe dead already.

"I met my match."

He sucked in a pained breath, one so loud
she could hear it cut through his lungs, a knife in his chest.
"Already? So fast…"

"I think my father suspects something. Not
you, but that my heart already belongs to another, that my dreams
lay outside of his hold."

"But we've been careful."

"Have we?" She asked, sparing a glance his
way. Mikza had unconsciously stepped closer, within a foot of her
body. She could feel the heat of his skin on her arm, a magnetic
pull teasing her to close the gap.

He met her eyes, dark and downcast, before
stepping back into the light of the ballroom, across the invisible
barrier.

"We're so close," he murmured, more to
himself.

Leena cast one more glance over the edge,
down the steep cliffs, all the way to the crashing splashes of
water below.
So close, but so far.

"Let's go now," she whispered, turning
quickly around, saying goodbye to the night. "Let's leave before
the ball is over. Everyone is here. Everyone is occupied. No one
will know."

Indecision stopped him. Leena could read it.
He was no longer sure what was best for her.