It’s all right to admit to me that you like dancing.

“You dance far too finely for it to be that simple,” Kestel said, and pulled him closer, improper and distracting. Wouldn’t do for me to get caught, would it? I’d have found myself in jail, and nevermind the world of trouble it would have caused my father and the real Bertin.” “I also had a great deal to learn in order to pass as a gentleman, or at least moderately civilized. “Dancing is important, even to cockroaches living in the streets,” Bertin replied. Seemed like something that would not interest you and that one-track brain of yours.” “Here I thought you’d have to be taught how to dance. His stupid heart pounded in his ears, and he didn’t like the fluttery feeling in his chest one single bit, twice-curse his own stupidity. Hard to completely muzzle a ravening horde.īiting back his frustration, and all the crude words he’d like to use to express it, Bertin placed his hand in Kestel’s and allowed himself to be pulled into the waltz. Kestel offered a hand as the strains of a waltz started up, quieting the rest of the room. “No, Your Majesty, there’s something important-” Bertin broke off with a grunt as he was snagged and dragged by his shirt collar to the middle of the dancefloor. “Dance? What? Did someone slip you something?” Bertin said. “I was starting to think I’d have to dance with someone else.” “There you are,” Kestel said, unfolding sinuously from the throne and sauntering down the steps in a way that put every other effort in the room to glaring shame.

When people got too grabby, he gave them shoves that they promptly forgot about as their crude landings gave them something new to play with.īy the time he neared the dais, he was ready to go to bed and stay there the rest of the year. He fought his way through the room, valiantly ignoring all the groping, fondling, and lewd suggestions spoken in roars rather than the sultry whispers the speakers were probably going for.

Shoving his rambling thoughts aside, Bertin took a deep breath of the relatively fresh air by the open door and then waded into the fray. Most days he wanted to be able to strangle the infuriating bastard. More than Bertin would ever possess, more than he could dream of possessing. Thankfully, Kestel was still sprawled on his throne, indolent, heart-achingly beautiful, and completely untouchable. When he stepped into the ballroom, he was left not quite gagging on the overwhelming combination of sweat, cologne and perfume, sex, and substances he didn’t want to know too much about. At the very least, people would notice a whole slew of guards disappearing. Unfortunately, apprising Kestel was easier said than done, as the party was reaching its peak, and Bertin couldn’t just walk up to Kestel and say ‘your pretend mother is tied up in a parlor’ without drawing a lot of attention. Available at these retailers! Amazon | Books2Read

The Engineered Throne by Megan Derr