The late morning sunlight slanted through the windows in the east hall. Raelyn sat primly in her chair, back straight and ankles crossed under her skirt. I tried to mimic her, but the closest I could get was not toppling sideways. How did she make it look so easy?
"No slouching!" She didn't even look up from the fan she was toying with in her lap. "If you have to breathe, make it shallow. You don't want your bodice to move too much."
"So, breathe without breathing and try not to pass out." I muttered.
Her mouth curved faintly. "Etiquette is ninety percent illusion. Everyone knows you're uncomfortable. The point is to make them forget it."
We'd spent the last several hours on which fork to use for which course, the right moment to pick up a wine glass, how to gesture without flashing the underside of your wrist. Which was apparently scandalous if you were playing the wrong game. Now she was walking me through greetings. The right tilt of the head. The measured lift of the eyes. The way to make even a curtsey feel like an insult if I wanted it to.
"Let's try it again." By her tone, I'd better make it the last time.
I stood, smoothing the skirts of the gods-forsaken tulle dress she had me in, and tilted my head. Just enough to look respectful, and just shy of actually being respectful.
"Better." She tapped her fan against her chin. "Now, think of the way it feels when you get a chance to put Derek in his place. Then smile."
My lips tilted a fraction, and I could feel the tug more on my left side. A half-smile.
"Perfect. That's the one you'll use when one of the nobles tries to tell you that you're charming. It says, 'I know, and?' It's perfectly sarcastic and I love it."
I was about to reply when the door to the hall opened.
Tomas stood in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame. His gaze flicked to me, then to Raelyn.
"She's done here."
Raelyn raised an eyebrow. "I was about to run her through formal introductions."
"You can have her back after dinner." His eyes found mine again. "I need her."
I caught the way Raelyn's mouth twitched, hiding something halfway between amusement and warning. "Try not to break her before she meets the rest of the court."
"No promises." He pushed off the frame and crooked a finger at me.
I shot Raelyn a look. "Is this the part where I use the smile?"
Her grin was all teeth. "Probably not."
I sighed and followed him into the corridor, keeping pace beside him. "So what's this about?"
"I did mention that I would be overseeing your flirting." His answering smile curved slow.
I stumbled a step. "Flirting? Now?"
He didn't stop walking. "You'll be expected to play my lady at the ball. The nobles will test you. They'll want to see how you hold my attention. Whether you belong at my side. I want to know you can manage it before you're in front of them."
"That's ridiculous."
"It's survival."
"But how? How is flirting somehow survival training? As a matter of fact, how does it even fit into assassin training?"
"Flirting is using words and actions to draw your target in, to open up. It's a game, and if you're good enough, you may not even have to kill someone. So think of it as a precursor to assassin training."
We stopped in one of the smaller practice rooms. Not the sparring floor, but a warm, dim space meant for private meetings. He shut the door behind us and crossed to the center.
"Stand here."
I stayed where I was. "You're serious about this?"
"Deadly." His eyes caught mine and held. "If you can't unsettle me, you won't unsettle them."
"That's your bar? Unsettle you?"
"Try."
It was absurd. And yet, it was also a challenge. I took a step toward him, not letting my attention waver. I made my eyes big, the same way I would when I was begging for an extra bun out of the oven in the kitchens at home. His gaze didn't drop. I stopped close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.
"I could start by telling you how this color brings out the honey in your eyes." I reached up, running a finger along the edge of the collar of his dark green shirt.
"True." He swallowed. "But that's not flirting."
My chin tilted up slightly, my voice coming out whisper. The words sounded ridiculous in my head, but I'd try them out anyway. "Then maybe I should tell you I've thought about putting my knife between your ribs every day since we met."
One corner of his mouth lifted. "Closer. But still not flirting."
I reached up, deliberately slow, and adjusted the collar of his shirt. My fingertips brushed his skin. "Better?"
His breath deepened, though his expression stayed composed. "Better."
I let my hand linger an instant too long before drawing back. "So, what would you call flirting then?"
"Make me want to kiss you."
The words landed between us like the strike of a match. Heat in the air. I stepped closer, close enough that the space between us disappeared. I'm certain my brain malfunctioned. "Are you trying to tell me to make you want something that you've craved since I slapped you that first day?"
For a second, the world narrowed to his eyes, the faint flare of his nostrils, the way his body seemed to go still and tense all at once. His head lowered slightly, just enough that I caught the faint brush of his breath.
Then he jerked back, the heat of him…just gone. "That's enough."
I blinked, my pulse still pounding. "You said—"
"I know what I said." His tone was clipped now, almost harsh. "You'll use Callum tonight. Practice there."
The pivot left me off balance. "Callum?"
"Yes." He was already moving toward the door. "Dinner. You'll sit near him. Smile at him. Keep his attention."
I folded my arms. "So you want me to flirt with Callum instead of you?"
"I want you to pass this test." He was almost gone. "He's an easy mark, a good win."
I wasn't sure which part of me hated the idea more. The part that didn't want to play this game at all, or the part that had been caught in that split-second before he'd pulled away.
Either way, I followed him out.