Legendary (Caraval 2)

At her words the guard stalked closer, armor echoing across the exquisite foyer.

It took everything Tella had to keep from raising her voice. Instead she forced her lips to tremble and her eyes to turn watery. “Please, I have nowhere else to go,” she begged, hoping the woman had a heart somewhere beneath her starched dress. “Just find my sister and let me stay with her.”

The matron’s lips pinched, appraising Donatella in all her pathetic splendor. “I can’t let you stay here, but perhaps there’s a free cot or nest in the servants’ quarters.”

The guard shadowing her snickered.

Tella’s heart sank even further. A nest in the servants’ quarters?

“Excuse me.” The low voice rumbled directly behind her, a rough brush against the back of Tella’s neck.

Her stomach dipped and tied a knot.

Only one person’s voice did that to Tella.

Casually Dante came up to her side. A silhouette of sharp raven-wing black, from his perfect dark suit to the ink tattooing his hands. The only light came from the shimmer in his amused eyes. “Having a problem with your room?”

“Not at all.” Tella willed her cheeks not to flush with embarrassment, hoping he’d not overheard the conversation. “There’s just a tiny mix-up, but it’s been resolved.”

“What a relief. I thought I heard her say she was putting you in the servants’ quarters.”

“That’s only if there’s room,” the matron said.

Tella could have turned mortified-green and sunk into the lapis floor, but to her shock Dante, who usually enjoyed laughing at her, didn’t so much as tilt the corner of his mouth in diversion. Instead he turned the full force of his brutal gaze on the matron. “Do you know who this young lady is?”

“I beg your pardon,” said the matron, “who are you?”

“I oversee all of Legend’s performers.” Dante’s voice was full of more arrogance than usual. The type of tone that made it impossible for Tella to discern if he was speaking the truth or making up a lie. “You do not want to put her in the servants’ quarters.”

“Why is that?” asked the matron.

“She’s engaged to the heir to the throne of the Meridian Empire.”

The woman’s brows drew together warily. Tella’s might have done the same, but she instantly covered her surprise with the sort of haughty expression she imagined a royal heir’s fiancée might wear.

Of course, Tella didn’t even know who the current heir was. Elantine had no children, and her heirs were killed off faster than the news could travel to Tella’s former home on Trisda. But Tella didn’t care who her fake fiancé was, as long as it kept her from sleeping in a nest.

Unfortunately, the matron still looked skeptical. “I didn’t know His Highness had a new fiancée.”

“It’s a secret,” Dante responded flawlessly. “I believe he’s planning on announcing the engagement at his next party. So I’d recommend not saying anything. I’m sure you’ve heard what his temper is like.”

The woman went stiff. Then her eyes darted from Dante to Tella. Clearly she didn’t trust either of them, but her fear of the heir’s temper must have outweighed her good judgment.

“I’ll check again to see if there’s another room available,” she said. “We’re full for the celebration, but perhaps someone we expected hasn’t arrived.”

The moment she left, Dante turned back to Tella, leaning close so that no eavesdropping servants could hear. “Don’t rush to thank me.”

Tella supposed she did owe him a bit of gratitude. Yet the exchange coated her with the thick sensation that Dante was doing her the opposite of a favor. “I can’t figure out if you’ve just saved me or landed me in an even more unfortunate situation.”

“I found you a room, didn’t I?”

“You’ve also given me a bad-tempered fiancé.”

One corner of his full mouth lifted. “Would you rather have pretended to be my fiancée? I considered saying that, but I didn’t think that would be the best choice since—what was it you said to your sister?” He tapped a finger against his smooth chin. “Ah yes, when we kissed it was terrible, one of the worst, definitely not something you would wish to repeat.”

Tella felt the color drain from her face. God’s blood! Dante was absolutely shameless. “You were spying!”

“I didn’t need to. You were loud.”