As the Crow Falls | ✔

Chapter Thirteen

The prince had the upper hand. Niccola had come all the way to the ball intending to guide a conversation with him in the direction she needed, and now he had the upper hand again. Nor could she simply pull away. The woman in the sketch wasn't here—Niccola had spent an eon scanning the hall for her—leaving Isaiah as her only lead, a situation as inescapable as it was infuriating. But he'd also stated his intention not to expose her, and she still held her own secret as leverage. Not that she came from Varna; that crow had flown. She'd not yet revealed what authority she held back home.

She decided to risk pushing back to gauge his response. "What did you notice?"

"Besides your dancing?" Oh, he was actually going to answer. "You mask your accent well, but not entirely. I daresay you also know a great deal more about crows than an average Calisian serving-woman."

He'd not just figured out that she wasn't a Calisian citizen. He knew where she was from, too. The loss of two secrets rolled into one stung harder than it had a right to.

"You also dance like nobility," said Isaiah, and Niccola's steps nearly stuttered again. Isaiah remained the picture of calm collectedness. Neither his face nor his easy posture betrayed his interrogation as he led their dance from the end of her hand. For a moment, Niccola was tempted to draw the dance back to Varna's steps simply to reassert control over the situation. It was such a simple thing—dance steps—yet she'd made the error of neglecting to think of it when she'd crossed the border. She had set herself up for exposure, and now only Isaiah shielded her from the increased scrutiny of the other ball-goers.

"Why are you here?" he asked again, and Niccola could not help but notice that he was not asking who she was. As if he didn't care.

He'd seen nothing but her blunders now, and called her out on each of them. If that was his perception of her, she had no reputation left to lose. So long as she didn't endanger Phoebe's, or sabotage her mission in this realm, she could speak as freely as she cared to.

"I'm looking for my sister." She lifted her chin defiantly. "I have reason to believe she fled to this realm."

'I have reason to believe she was kidnapped by someone in this realm' remained unsaid. That would be a step too far.

Isaiah nodded once, his face unreadable. "Do you mean Calis harm?"

The bluntness of his question struck Niccola beneath the breastbone. For a moment she was too stunned to be angry, as she had every right to be. Did she mean Calis harm? Surely he knew the history between their realms. Every Varnic child certainly did.

Yet he was also right to ask, for she was in his home as they spoke, in search of a member of what could only be his family. And when she found that woman...

"That depends," she answered, and for the first time, she saw Isaiah's expression flicker. "Does Calis mean my homeland harm? Because I have reason to believe it."

With that single mention, it was his turn to stop dead. Niccola tugged his hand the way he had caught hers when he told her to keep dancing. He spun back into step. Now the atmosphere between them had shifted. Isaiah's hands gripped hers harder, and Niccola returned it. Mixed triumph, anger, and uncertainty coursed through her veins and made her heart beat harder than the throb of the strings in the musicians' corner. It was the feeling of lockstep in more ways than one. The ground between them had leveled. Niccola would have to trust Isaiah to keep his word on not exposing her, but now it looked like she would be returning the favor.

It was a long time before Isaiah spoke again. "I would like to hear more, but that is a topic I would not broach in a crowded room."

"Then we are of like mind. Now, you said you had other questions for me. What were they?"