She started down the stairs in a rush and the unfamiliar silk of her slipper made her slip on the polished marble. Evangeline would’ve toppled headfirst and broken her neck, or at the very least disgraced herself beyond redemption, but Anatol caught her elbow to steady her.

“Careful.” He released her when she was balanced once more.

She touched her bare skin where he’d grasped her. The few times he’d made contact with her skin-to-skin, the result had been the same. Sexual awareness skittered through her, made her think of sweaty, entangled limbs and twisted sheets.

This strange attraction she had to him was incredibly bothersome. He was her equal; there was no gain in sleeping with him.

She frowned and fidgeted. She supposed she should thank him for catching her. It was odd she was so discomfited by Anatol. Ordinarily she had no problem dealing with people. Perhaps it was his eyes. They were deep and straightforward. The man was a mystery to her in the way he didn’t play Court games, but his eyes were honest and clear. Really, they seemed to look straight into a person’s soul. How . . . nice.

It was almost naïve, really.

At Belai it was far more expedient to play your cards close to your chest. “Congratulations,” she said instead of thank you, “on becoming J’Edaeii. I knew you would pass before today, but after I saw what you did with that sphere, well, then I knew for certain.”

Not waiting for an answer, she carefully made her way down the stairs, grasping the heavy gilt balustrade.

Anatol descended next to her. “Ah, yes.” He sighed. “The J’Edaeii. I guess I should thank you for your congratulations.”

She gave him a sharp look. “Why wouldn’t you?”

He gave a terse laugh. “I don’t look forward to spending my life doing parlor tricks for the wealthy. We’re like permanent court jesters. In fact, the rest of the country regards us as little more than the lapdogs of the upper class.”

“Why should we care what the rest of the country thinks of us? The only people that matter are here in the palace.”

“Do you really think that?” He inclined his head and gave it a slow shake. “I suppose we are all products of our environments. I simply believe our magick could be used in more effective ways, Evangeline,” he finished.

She hadn’t ever considered the possibility. After all, no one . . . no one turned down the chance to be J’Edaeii. It just wasn’t done unless, perhaps, one was touched in the mind. What else could you do with magick other than become J’Edaeii? The entire concept dumbfounded her for a moment. The notion completely dowsed her anger over his ridiculous inference that living at Belai was somehow a bad thing.

They reached the end of the stairs and she turned and gave him a disbelieving stare. “Then why didn’t you simply throw today’s performance? You could even now be on your way back to”—she tossed her hand in a careless gesture—“wherever it is you come from.”

Clouds passed through his eyes. “It’s far more complicated than that.”

“Well.” She frowned and fidgeted again, unsure of what to do. Strains of music, emanating from the grand ballroom, met her ears. She would rather be there than here, talking with this man. Anatol had always been different and she didn’t care to know the inner workings of his mind. He could stay at Belai for his “complicated reasons,” or be gone tomorrow. None of it had any bearing whatsoever on her life.

He was intriguing, however. Anatol stood there, staring into her soul, and she felt laid bare before him. She blinked and looked away. “Are you going in?” she asked, finally.

“No. Once the champagne begins to flow they won’t miss my presence. I’m headed off to play a game of strategia with a friend. Enjoy yourself, Evangeline.” His gaze swept down her body, lingering on her cleavage and making her nipples go erect. “You look beautiful. I’m sure you will interest the particular Edaeii male”—he raised an eyebrow—“or female for whom you are eager.”

How rude!

It took every ounce of her willpower to smile tightly and murmur her good-bye in a civil manner. She didn’t know what enraged her more, the fact he’d mentioned aloud her intentions or that he’d noticed them to begin with. Were her ambitions so obvious? And if they were obvious, must he point them out? The man had no ability to dissemble at all.

A quartet of silver and gold-attired servants stood outside the grand ballroom doors. One of them took her name and delivered it to the usher, who announced with much fanfare, “Miss Evangeline Viktoranka J’Edaeii.” She smiled in pleasure to hear J’Edaeii in the place of her former commonblood last name of Bansdaughter.

She carefully composed an expression of mostly boredom tinged with slight interest—she wanted no one to think her new and naïve, nor did she wish to offend any of the Edaeii—and stepped through the double doors. Evangeline had been in the grand ballroom before, but never during a grand ball. Her jaw went slack and she quickly corrected it, though she couldn’t seem to keep her gaze from darting wildly over the large room, much as Sorna’s had roved her chamber.

The entire room was awash in gold, accented by many burning lights. Large chandeliers hung periodically through the chamber, reflecting brightly in the mirrors that hung along one wall. They gave the impression that the already enormous room was even larger. Courtiers, Edaeii, and J’Edaeii flitted around the chamber like oversized butterflies in silks, brocades, tulles, and glittering jewels.

Various scents assaulted her nostrils, making her nose twitch. Perfumes, colognes, and pipe smoke competed for dominance. At the far end of the chamber a large band of musicians tried to play over the bustling swell of conversation, laughter, and the swish of the gowns on the finely clad ladies.

Oh, she was glad she’d had her gown commissioned! Even with the lack of expensive jewelry glittering at her ears, throat, and wrists, she was fit to stand among this crowd. She’d done well. Besides, she had one very special jewel and that was the only jewel that mattered.

For a fleeting moment she wished Annetka had been able to see this. How her wide blue eyes would have shone!

Czz’ar Ondriiko and Czz’arina Prademia sat on a silver swathed dais to the left of the chamber. In contrast to that afternoon, Ondriiko looked bored and Prademia appeared lively and alert.

Presentations to the Czz’ar and Czz’arina had occurred at the jeweling ceremony that afternoon and so were not again performed at the dinner and ball. Well, dinner, such as it was. Several long tables lined one wall, filled with stuffed cana wraps, salmon, quail, and a wide array of sumptuous desserts—cakes, petit fours, and bite-sized chocolates. She’d arrived late, and the hungry ball-goers had already ravaged the tables. Servants bustled to and fro, trying to right the wrongs.

Evangeline’s stomach fluttered. She planned to avoid the food anyway, though the peach champagne punch definitely held appeal.

It didn’t take long for those around her to begin to notice her—deep, appraising notice. The men regarded her with gallingly apparent interest. The women gave her chilled looks and talked amongst themselves behind their colorful fans. Criticizing her clothing? Her hair? Perhaps they were all simply miffed that their husbands, or the men they sought, were taking notice of her?

Well, it hardly mattered. She wasn’t here to make female friends. This was a world ruled by men. The way a woman got by was through manipulation.

She noted Tadui Edaeii, second cousin to the Czz’ar, a small distance away with a female companion Evangeline did not recognize. Tadui was tall and lithe, with a hook nose centered in a not-completely-unpleasant face. Now he stared openly at her. Evangeline smiled at him and looked away, searching the crowd—albeit with bored affectation—for Roane. Finally, she located him. He was surrounded by, unsurprisingly, a bevy of female admirers. They laughed and hung on his every word, practically elbowing one another out of the way in an effort to win his favor.

Entirely the wrong way to go about it. Really, she sniffed. How pedestrian.

Not only was Roane first in line to the throne and still unmarried, he was handsome beyond all reckoning, with a muscular build, strong chin, and dark hair and eyes. Although not as physically appealing as the useless-to-her Anatol, if she were to be truthful. Roane was a complete and utter contrast to his brother, the Czz’ar, and made one wonder what was going in the family’s lineage.

Roane made far more the dashing and virile character one would expect a Czz’ar to be, and, indeed, many had often said that Roane truly should’ve been the one to take the ruler’s scepter. True to form, Ondriiko seemed, at least outwardly, to show no consideration of these sometimes open concerns, or unease at the relative proximity of his brother to his throne.

Perhaps he was oblivious to the danger.

After Evangeline had taken a turn around the ballroom, she took up a position near Roane. Those she knew stopped and conversed with her and moved on. She kept her conversation light and her smile constant.

Several courtiers asked her for dances, all of which she—seemingly, anyway—reluctantly agreed to. It would be important for her to seem to be sought after by many men, yet she could not encourage any single one of them too much. The last thing she needed tonight was her time monopolized. She crafted her body language and comments to engage her admirers at first, and then gently nudged them away.

Charlotta Edaeii, cousin thrice-removed from Czz’ar Ondriiko, brought her a glass of fine red wine. When Charlotta gave the glass to her, her fingertips deliberately brushed the back of Evangeline’s hand. Ah, she was interested. That was a surprise.

Evangeline lowered her eyes in a feigned gesture of demureness, then looked up and gave the woman a coy smile. Charlotta was a beautiful woman with many connections. Allowing herself to be seduced by her would be neither foolhardy nor a chore.

The wine slid down her throat with velvety richness as she watched Charlotta walk away in her fine, shimmering gold gown and wondered how she’d be in bed. She took another sip of the wine and closed her eyes for moment, thanking Joshui for her magick. Without it, she’d be tending pigs in Cherkhasii right now.

Tadui approached her and gave her a deep bow. “The lovely Evangeline, as beautiful as her personality is cool. I welcome you to our extended family.”

As he straightened she offered her hand, which he kissed. She gave him a genuine smile, the first of the evening. He was a pleasant man. “Tadui. I wondered when you’d venture over to say hello. You’re as silver-tongued as ever.”

“And you are as sly. Don’t think I can’t tell what you’re doing.” He put his hands at the small of his back, widened his stance, and affected a serious frown. “Tell me, miss, did you know you have positioned yourself in the line of sight of my illustrious second cousin?” He glanced at Roane.

She laughed. “Oh, Tadui, I didn’t do that on purpose,” she lied. “Why, look, he hasn’t even noticed I’m here.”

“Believe me, miss, he has noticed. I know my cousin too well. He doesn’t fail to detect any attractive females in the room.”

Oh, she hoped he was right.

She swatted his arm playfully. “Please, sir, I’m too plain to interest Roane. Look at all the beautiful women that surround him!”

Also vapid and without strategy, no doubt. Silly chits.

“Now you’re fishing for compliments.” He shook his head. “You’re breathtakingly gorgeous and you know it. With your grace and beauty and the strength of your magick, you shall soon command fashion here at Court. All the women will wish for a slender body with plump, kissable breasts, for hair that’s long and light, and dove-gray eyes, not to mention a countenance as cool and detached as your own.”

“You flatterer! And what’s all this about coolness? You’ve mentioned it twice now.”

His expression turned serious. “I only flatter so I may procure a dance with you this evening, Evangeline.”

More like a place in her bed tonight.

“Tadui, you’re evading my question.”

“If I answer may I have a dance?”

She gave him a wide smile. “You, Tadui, may have a dance regardless.” He had a hot rivalry with Roane, so dancing with him was only to her advantage. It did not hurt that she truly did enjoy his company. It was unfortunate he was not closer to the throne.

“Very well, but I’m sure you’ve already heard the theory.”

“Theory?”

“They say that magick wielders often experience a countereffect of their talents. For example, one who can change the shape of objects is often far less malleable within his own character. One who can sculpt illusion from light can see the truth in people. And you, my dear, who can channel emotion and affect it within others so easily . . . well, you must see where I’m going with this.”

Evangeline stared at him for a moment, and then gave a light laugh. “My, what an imagination you have!” She knew, of course, it was true. It was the cost she paid and she was well aware of it.

“Ah, but it’s true! I have observed it borne out in many of the J’Edaeii. It can be quite vexing at times, but the value of the J’Edaeii, of course, is beyond compare. Especially one like you, Evangeline, who possesses such a rare talent.”

She took a sip of her wine, then rolled her eyes. “Ah, but, no. We are the lapdogs of the upper class and have no value,” she said, recalling Anatol’s comments. “We live to sit up and beg at the whim of the Edaeii and hope they throw us a bone.”

She’d angled for laughter, but instead Tadui became grave. “The commoners have been exposed to some dangerous ideas of late. Their thoughts grow too loose, too easy. We managed to politically neutralize the author, but all it did was martyr him. In recent years this man, this Gregorio Vikhin has breathed life back into the text and added texts of his own.” Tadui shook his head. “The situation becomes more explosive by the day.”

Evangeline understood what he talked of, even though politics and the social conditions of the proletariat held little interest to her. Years back Kozma Nizli had written a book called A Future without Royals that had sparked a tiresome controversy that seemingly had no end. The book had spoken of freedom and equality to all social classes within a democratically elected government.

It had called the rule of the Edaeii dispassionate and irresponsible. Self-serving and reckless. It called for the lower classes to take control of their future and overthrow their government in favor of democratic rule.

Nizli had been caught and executed—beheaded—by the Royal Guard for disloyalty to the crown, a fate that Evangeline had found far too extreme. But who was she to judge these things?

All the copies of the book that could be found had been publicly burned, but illegal hand-copied tomes still circulated. Even after the burning the country had seemed to simmer, or so some said when she’d been unfortunate enough to be caught in conversations about the subject.

And then this Gregorio Vikhin had popped up. A self-educated commoner who’d risen to take up the cause put forth in Nizli’s book, he published his own inflammatory texts and distributed them under the nose of the Royal Guard. He gave impassioned speeches and encouraged the people to rise up and seize the government for themselves.

How ridiculous. And boring.

Just then, Roane looked in her direction. She caught his gaze briefly and held it for a heartbeat before looking earnestly into Tadui’s face. She affected a look of deep interest and batted her eyelashes. “Has there been unrest of late?”

He gave her look of blank disbelief. “Don’t you know about the riot in Belai Square led by Gregorio Vikhin just last week?”

She didn’t have to feign attentiveness now. She straightened and frowned. “Truly? No. I—I must have been so immersed in my preparations for Performance Day, I didn’t hear about it.” Plus, Belai Square was on the opposite end of the palace from the House of the Adepts, and Belai was a very large place.

He harrumphed. “Borco and his staff do keep the adepts well isolated from such unpleasantries. And Ondriiko has a tendency to want to discount these little uprisings, which is the height of hubris and it’s hazardous to boot. Vikhin is a cagey one and the Royal Guard has not located him. His town house has been empty for months.” He smiled reassuringly. “But don’t concern yourself. We’ll find him before he rouses the people to anything truly dangerous.”

“Truly dangerous? Was anyone hurt in last week’s occurrence?”

“Some commoners were shot by the Royal Guard, yes, but none of our soldiers were harmed. The killings did seem to inflame the rabble, however.” He stuck out his elbow. “Come, this conversation is far too dreary for this evening of celebration. Let’s dance.”

Uneasily, she took his elbow and allowed him to lead her toward the dance floor. She knew little of the character known as Gregorio Vikhin. He cut a charismatic—and perhaps dangerous—figure in her mind, but she’d never given him much thought until now. He was responsible for spilled blood directly outside the place where she lived.

A faint shiver of unease skittered up her spine. None of this boded well. Violence, so close to the palace . . .

“May I cut in?”

Roane appeared before her, chasing all concern about the uprising in the square away.

“We haven’t even begun to dance yet,” Tadui growled.

“Ah, good, then I’m not interrupting.” Roane whisked her away from Tadui and into his arms without even asking what she wanted.

She masked her annoyance with a smile. “My lord Roane.”

He yanked her flush up against his body and dipped his head toward her throat. His breath smelled of alcohol and his teeth nipped her skin. “My lovely lady Evangeline.” He whirled around with the music and ground his hard cock against her stomach. There was no question in her mind that Roane was attracted to her now. The man had all the subtlety of a hammer—a very valuable hammer. Apparently her game had worked. All thoughts of the uprising left her mind.

His hand slid from her waist over the curve of her rear to the small of her back. He fingered her new jewel. It was still sore and she winced from the contact, but tried desperately not to let him know he was hurting her. He circled it with his index finger. “I can tattoo around it if you would like. I’d use a pattern as beautiful as you are.”

Her breath caught. To be tattooed by Roane was more than she ever could have hoped for. It was commonly known that for a J’Edaeii to bear his mark meant Roane had claimed them as a favorite. To be called upon for sex at any moment of the day or night.

And she hadn’t even shown him how good she was in bed yet!

He danced her back toward a corner of the ballroom and pinned her up against a wall. His hand slipped down the back of her dress and he cupped her rear. “Come to my room tomorrow evening and I will tattoo you.” He leaned down and nipped her lower lip. “Then I will fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk the next day.”

She parted her thighs to allow him the access he sought and he pushed two fingers deep inside her cunt. Slowly, he thrust in and out. It did not excite her at all, but she let out a low moan anyway.

His eyes flicked possessively down her body. “Don’t wear the dress. It’s ugly.”

Then he turned and walked away.