Her Cinder Throne (Completed)

Chapter 45

The night ground on, and Cole danced with a few of the gentlemen who had accompanied the women there. They all desperately wanted her attention, marking her as an obvious left-over that they could snap up once the prince had chosen the real woman worth marrying. She made up stories of a home she had never known, weaving tales of power and money. They lapped it up, their eyes glittering, and she watched as they spread news of her around the ballroom. 

She didn't care how many of the men with hungry eyes and sharp eyes heard the story of her small but rich invented home country, or that she was supposedly related to Bastian's mother in some distant way. She only wanted these facts to reach Bastian and peak his interest enough to rip him away from the girls with fortunes and armies enough to tempt King Thijs enough for his son's hand in marriage.

Because Cole knew that was the only reason Bastian was dancing or talking to anyone in the entire ballroom. His father had given orders about who was worth his time and who wasn't, and Bastian was sticking to those orders as if his life depended on it... which, it very well could.

Cole just needed to tap into the part of Bastian that was curious. She knew it was in there, and that it would be the only thing strong enough to override his father's voice for a short amount of time in his brain. She just needed him in her arms and then she would do anything to keep him there long enough to lure him away and finish what she was forced to start.

Trying not to think about what she would need to do to Bastian soon, she worked her way closer to him. With her words she dropped a breadcrumb trail behind her, whispering tantalizing rumors to the men who stopped her for a few minutes to chat. An unsuitable but passionate love affair with a stableboy, a penchant for wine, various parties that had grown so wild that the guards were called to break them up, and anything else scandalous and intriguing enough to set her apart from the countless other women all painting themselves as pure and kind as possible. Cole didn't care what anyone thought of her, as long as it with interest and curiosity.

Finally, she found herself only a few hundred feet from where Bastian stood taking a sip of wine and fielding off a group of unapproved girls with a strained smile and nod. He tried to walk away from them and toward one of the filthy rich women his father had picked, but they circled him and a bombarding of questions and compliments fell on his head.

Cole watched in irritation, wishing the girls would mind their own business so that Bastian would be free to notice that she was near him. Surely her rumors had reached him by now, and she just needed him to catch her eye. But the girls were monopolizing all his attention and they showed no signs of letting up any time soon. If Cole didn't take matters into her own hands, she would miss out entirely.

Snatching a glass of wine off a tray that passed by, she downed it in one go and let the burning in her stomach give her strength as she took a deep breath and broke away from the safety of the crowd and toward Bastian.

The circle of girls was so tightly knit in order to give the obvious impression that Bastian was solely theirs for the night, that Cole couldn't squeeze her way far enough in to even see his face. She would unfortunately have to be a bit bolder than she wanted to be, even if it meant becoming more visible to those who were watching than she wanted to. Gripping the nearest girl by the shoulder, Cole yanked her backward and away from the circle. With the muscles Cole had gained in the mines, coupled with the girl's complete unawareness that anyone would be so roughly handling her, the girl toppled backward and lost her footing. This allowed Cole to spin her away from the group and step into her place. Except Cole didn't just stop along the perimeter like the others. She launched forward, brazen and rude, to press her body against Bastian's and stare up at him.

He froze, his face blank as he stared back. Despite the many times they'd been forced into close proximity, Cole had never been quite this... intimately close to him. The heat from his skin spilled across her front even through both their clothes, and his breath danced on her skin as she gazed upward at his eyes. She wrapped her hand around his, threading their fingers, and placed her other hand around his back, pulling the fabric of his shirt into a fist.

"Who are you?" was all he asked. She had no idea if he was interested or angry or scared. His face was blank and his body was neither stiff nor relaxed within the confines of her embrace.

Cole just smiled slowly, as if it was building up from within her. She pushed every flirtatious moment she'd ever seen him or the other maids have into her expression, wanting him to see the willingness she had to be his. He was used to girls throwing themselves at him, but not quite like this. Not with such disregard to the rules or conventions, to the point where her reputation was of little consequence in the presence of everyone in the known world who was important enough to warrant and invitation.

This brazen attack seemed to do the trick, as Bastian slowly sunk into her embrace and tightened the grip between their hands. His other hand wrapped around her waist, resting against her ribs and pulling her even closer. Just at that moment, the music swirled into roaring waltz, haunting and furious in the style of the old kings. Without Cole even quite realizing it, Bastian had swept her into the dance floor, swirling around the men and women who were not quite as dazzling as the prince and his newest catch.

"I suppose the wind brought you in," Bastian said, his voice so close to her ear that she felt the hairs on her neck raise.

"I live on the air," she replied. "It blows me wherever it will, never resting for too long."

"You seem like the wind itself, not a helpless rider," Bastian said. "There's rumors whirling around you in storms of words. And yet, I cannot find anything real about you."

Cole smiled, ducking her head so that his view was blocked. She hoped her glamor was enough to trick him, but she was still nervous about testing it in such intimate quarters. "The wind isn't that bad of a friend, is it?"

"The is neither an enemy nor a friend," Bastian replied. "It can destroy or bring pleasure in equal measures. It is dangerous because it is the one who chooses who is favored and who is not."

Words burned on Cole's lips, and before she could help herself they had spilled out. "Then you're the wind, your highness, not I."

Bastian was silent and for a moment Cole thought she had ruined everything. But then he laughed, short and sharp. "I suppose people could see me that way. But this is not the conversation to be had during a celebration. Let us turn back to more pleasant things."