And yet now? She was executing it with terrifying grace.
She paused before Countess Ambrelle and curtsied.
"She's either going to save this kingdom or accidentally charm her way into ruling another one," Elias muttered under his breath.
Duke Williams chuckled. "Either way, you better hold on tight, Lord Elias. Because she just made her entrance and half the men are watching including the king."
As she made her way to Elias, who stood beside Duke Williams, she couldn't help but enjoy the stunned silence that followed her. Her confidence was half performance, half adrenaline-fueled denial that she was moments away from a full-blown panic attack.
She curtsied gracefully, a picture of refined decorum. "Duke Williams, delightful to see you once again."
Elias's mouth dropped open, and for a second, he genuinely questioned if someone had cast a glamour spell. Who was this woman? And where was the sarcastic hurricane he was familiar with.
"Miss Lirae, beautiful as always," the Duke said warmly, and took her hand with courtly reverence, brushing a gentlemanly kiss across her knuckles.
Elias bristled slightly. He knew it was just etiquette… but did Williams have to hold her hand for that long?
Then she turned to him.
"Lord Elias…" she said with a soft, practiced smile that made him feel like the only man in the room.
"I will give you two love birds privacy," Duke Williams chuckled knowingly and disappeared into the crowd.
"Magnificent."
Lyra leaned closer, dropping her voice just low enough for only him to hear. "So, any suspects yet?"
Elias snapped back to reality, scanning the room with a trained eye. "Keep up the façade. Anyone might be listening," he warned, jaw tightening.
"Oh… right… sorry," she whispered quickly, her composure slipping just a little. She straightened her posture again, instantly resuming her elegant act, though her fingers fiddled with the edge of her glove.
"You had to add a piece of you to that dress, didn't you?" Elias asked, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.
"I told Thaddeus what would make me most comfortable and sexy," she replied, shrugging ever so slightly as her eyes danced with mischief. "Isn't that the protocol for infiltrating high society—make 'em stare, make 'em sweat?"
"You may be asked the name of your modiste," Elias cautioned. "This is unusual, so questions might arise."
"Do you like it?"
"Well," Elias began. "There are… parts of you in full display that are meant for your husband's eyes only but…" He cleared his throat, his ears tingling red. "As a man, yes. I do."
Lyra arched a brow and tried not to laugh, but her lips twitched. "Relax. It's just clavicle, not a crime scene."
"I've seen less skin in a men's changing room," Elias muttered under his breath, then looked away, mildly scandalized—and deeply, helplessly impressed.
"Miss Lirae." King Matthew's voice sliced through the air. The crowd parted. He extended a hand. "A dance."
Lyra turned and bowed gracefully, every muscle in her body tensing. "Your Majesty," she replied.
"I don't think Miss Lirae—" Elias began, stepping forward instinctively.
"You do not speak for her." Matthew shut him down cold, without even sparing him a glance. The dismissal was casual.
"I'd be delighted, Your Majesty," Lyra said, ignoring Elias's warning look and slipping her hand into Matthew's.
Elias's fists clenched at his sides. Two reasons. Two very loud, gut-churning reasons he couldn't breathe.
First, Matthew. The king was now his number one suspect. The idea of him whispering threats or trying to dig secrets out of Lyra under the guise of a waltz made Elias itch for the dagger he'd left in his boot.
Second… the waltz.
Why hadn't they taught her the damn waltz? How had that slipped past both him and Thaddeus?
So he stood there, holding his breath.
Lyra moved.
She let Matthew lead, yes, but she matched his rhythm. Her posture was regal, her steps perfectly timed. The guests watched as she spun across the ballroom, somehow transforming the air around her into stardust.
"I'm sorry," Elias muttered aloud, watching her glow under the chandelier. "Who the hell are you?"
*****
"Interesting." Matthew's grip on her waist was polite but his eyes were doing a full interrogation.
"What, Your Majesty?" Lyra responded with practiced sweetness.
"Are you ever going to tell us what happened to you?" he asked, spinning her.
"I would love an explanation myself," Lyra replied smoothly, grateful for all those childhood dance classes her mother had forced on her. "I woke up remembering nothing. A small little family in the northern province saved me. They said it seemed I had fallen from a cliff, badly injured. My memories are only just returning, in bits and pieces. The last few years… well, they're still a bit foggy."
Matthew hummed thoughtfully, though the sound was more judgmental than curious. "It leaves a lot of questions unanswered."
Lyra nodded demurely. "Yes, Your Majesty, I understand."
"For example," Matthew continued, turning them slightly so they swept past a group of nobles gawking with wide eyes and too-large ears, "why is the first person you run to Elias?"
"Your Majesty, I have always felt safe with him," she said, letting a softness creep into her voice. A whisper of affection, believable even to the most trained ears. "He's always been kind to me. Besides, he is my betrothed. I do remember that."
Matthew's jaw ticked, and the hand at her waist tensed ever so slightly. The smile on his lips stayed fixed, but his eyes dimmed.
"He was about to stand trial for your disappearance," he said tightly. "He was suspected of having something to do with it."
"I heard." Lyra kept her tone gentle but curious. "It must have been awful for him."
"As you know, your relationship came as a shock to a lot of people. To me especially."
She looked up at him, pretending confusion. "Oh?"
Matthew leaned in just enough to be heard over the music. "Since you used to warm my bed."
"Excuse me?!" Lyra stopped mid-step, her heeled foot nearly colliding with the hem of her gown. Wow, she thought, biting back a laugh. It seems Miss Lirae was quite the slut. Great. Just great.