Kane looked pissed as hell.
He was scowling at Septimus, his hands flexing at his sides. Seraena swallowed. She'd only seen him this fucked off once before, and it was when Vulcan had tried to kill her during the Grand Race. That had ended with Kane threatening her cousin with a knife in front of the entire Gongonian council.
This wouldn't be good.
Septimus raised an eyebrow. "And you are...?"
His voice dripped with condescension. Kane took a step closer.
"Your new problem." His voice was low. "Take your hands off her."
Septimus held his gaze. Slowly, he slid his hand further down Seraena's back, his fingers splaying over the curve of her ass. His smile was dissolved sugar. "You don't want to cause a scene, do you?"
A muscle ticked in Kane's jaw. "Oh, I absolutely want to cause a scene."
"And who do you think people will side with?" Septimus arched an eyebrow. "You, or the future High Lord?"
Kane stilled. When he spoke, his voice was deadly calm. "What did you just say?"
Septimus looked smug. "I've asked Seraena to marry me."
"You asked," Seraena cut in. "I haven't said yes. And I'm not going to."
She couldn't keep the irritation out of her voice. Septimus's sweaty hand was burning through the silk material of her dress, and the sudden urge to kick him in the shins was almost overwhelming. A godsdamn shame they were in public. She could feel people watching her, whispering behind their fans. The only person who wasn't looking at her was Kane; his blue eyes were fixed on Septimus, and colour burned high in his cheeks.
Septimus sidled closer. "Oh, I wouldn't count me out yet, Raena. You'll find I can be very... persuasive."
Disgust rose in her chest. "I don't need your fortune."
"I wasn't talking about my fortune," Septimus murmured. "I was talking about this."
Septimus gripped the back of her head, twisting her face upwards. His mouth tasted of biscuits and salt. And saliva. So much saliva. Seraena hardly had time to process his tongue invading her mouth before Septimus was shoved violently backwards.
Kane stood beside her, murder in his eyes.
He lunged. Seraena leapt forward, grabbing the collar of his suit jacket and sloshing thornberry juice all over her shoes. Kane twisted, snarling, his eyes half-glazed like a feral animal. She yanked him backwards.
"K—" She caught herself. "Flint."
Kane blinked. Some of the red haze receded from his eyes, although he was still breathing raggedly, his hands flexing as if aching to punch something. Septimus snorted.
"Flint Hemlock?" That strange gravel-drawl turned amused. "I've heard of you. A glorified stable boy."
Kane's smile was the edge of a knife. "Call my dragon a horse one more time, Greenstock. I'd love to watch him incinerate you."
"Kane." Seraena spoke low in his ear. "Let it go."
Kane was breathing hard, his eyes fixed on Septimus. The other boy smirked and curled his fingers, and Kane's body tensed under her hands.
"Stop," Seraena hissed.
For a terrible moment, nobody moved. The violin music died, leaving a hollow void in its wake; the only sound was the shift of expensive fabric and the scuffle of shoes against tile. Someone whispered. Another person laughed. It didn't matter, Seraena thought, her heart pounding; the main thing that mattered — the only thing — was getting Kane out of the ballroom before he did something that got him arrested.
"Please," she whispered. "Let's go."
Kane's jaw worked. Then he turned abruptly on his heel, stalking towards the door. Seraena cursed under her breath. She hiked up her skirts, and Septimus caught her arm.
"Don't." Sep's voice was clipped. "It's beneath you."
"Let go of me," Seraena snarled.
She shook free of his grip, dashing out of the ballroom. Kane moved quickly. He'd already cleared the entrance hall and two flights of stairs before she caught up with him, panting with an embarrassing amount of force. Gods above. She needed to exercise more. Or stop eating so much coconut cream pie with Teagan.
"Kane," Seraena managed. "Wait."
Kane paused. They stood in a small alcove; moonlight filtered through a rose window, decorating the wooden floor with shards of honey yellow and candy apple red. The only furniture was a sideboard, topped with a vase and a dish filled with floating petals.
Kane picked up the vase. He considered it for a moment before cocking his arm back; the vase smashed against the wall.
Seraena stared at the broken fragments.
Her heart pounded in her ears. Kane was breathing hard, his shoulders rising and falling in a sharp line. He wasn't looking at her. He didn't have to; she could tell how he was feeling by the tremble of his hands.
"Here." Seraena set the thornberry juice on the sideboard, handing him the dish. "My mother bought this one. I've always hated it."
Kane took it, running his thumb over the smooth porcelain. The dish looked oddly small and fragile in his palm. He set it back on the sideboard, rubbing a shaky hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry."
A lump rose in her throat. "You don't have to be."
"I hated that." Kane's voice broke. "Watching him put his arm around you like he fucking owns you."
"I know," Seraena said, her throat burning. "I hated it, too."
Kane ran a hand through his hair. "But I can't ask you to give up your throne. I can't." His eyes were agonized. "So what the hell am I meant to do, Raena? Except just— just sit by and watch you marry someone?"
The breath went out of her. "Kane..."
Kane closed the space between them in three swift strides. Seraena tangled her arms around his neck. And then they were kissing, pulling, crushing themselves closer together. Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she was certain he could hear it. Kane kissed her wildly, fiercely, as if he couldn't stop himself from doing so. As if the very thought of releasing her was impossible to him.
Kane's mouth dropped to her throat. "I can't stand to see you with anyone else." His warm breath fanned her collarbone. "It fucking kills me."
Seraena's eyes fluttered closed. "I only want you."
"Say it again," Kane said.
He raised his head. His eyes were black pools, his mouth swollen from kissing her. She could feel the heat of him burning through her dress.
"Only you, Kane," Seraena whispered. "I belong to you. Just as you belong to me."
Seraena cupped his face, raising his mouth to hers again. She kissed him softly, this time. Gently. Every kiss was a message, every caress a promise. I'm here. I love you. I'm not going anywhere. Kane pressed his head to her collarbone, and she slid a hand over his spine, tracing the bumps through his jacket.
They stood that way for a moment. Then Kane pulled away, dropping to his knees to pick up the glass shards. He made to tip them into the goblet and then paused. "Oh. Sorry. I didn't realize it was full." He sniffed. "What is this?"
Seraena adjusted the neckline of her dress. "Thornberry juice."
"I thought you hated..." Kane trailed off, staring into the goblet. His grip on the stem tightened. "Who gave you this?"
She frowned. "What?"
"The thornberry juice." His face was white. "Did you drink any of it?"
Kane set down the goblet, seizing her arm with enough force to bruise. Seraena hissed out a breath. "Ow. You're hurting me."
"I—Sorry." Kane dropped her hand, although his face remained a tight mask. "Did you drink it, Seraena?"
She rubbed at her wrist. "No."
"Who gave it to you?" Kane demanded. "Try to remember."
"I don't need to remember," Seraena said indignantly, dropping her hand. "It was your good pal Septimus. He gave me the juice." The remainder of the blood drained from Kane's face, and she crossed her arms. "What?"
"It's poisoned," Kane said hoarsely.
Shock lanced through her. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely." Kane set down the goblet. "It's spiked with carloca seed. My mother treated a patient that ingested it once. It has a really characteristic smell, almost like licorice, so once you know what to look for... And you're walking." He sprang into motion, trailing Seraena down the corridor. "Okay. We're walking."
"The fucking nerve," Seraena growled, taking the stairs two-at-a-time. "Trying to kill me in my own palace? I'll flay him alive."
"Not if I get there first," Kane said grimly.
They burst into the ballroom. The party was back in full swing; courtiers lounged on leather sofas, their eyes blown wide with dream somnium. Someone was chugging a bottle of champagne upside-down as people cheered from the sidelines. Seraena scanned the room, although she wasn't actually sure who she was looking for. Cillian? Her mother? Septimus himself?
A lump rose in her throat.
She knew who she was looking for. Two twin boys, with matching lavender eyes. But Mack and Alfie weren't here. They'd never be here again.
"We can't confront him in here," Kane muttered, his hand on his sword. "We have to get him outside. Otherwise people will panic."
Seraena pressed her lips together. "Agreed."
"Maybe if we—"
A scream split the air.
Seraena spun. Time seemed to stop.
Septimus stood on a raised dais. He was holding a sharp knife in one hand, and a fistful of golden plaits in the other. Teagan. The young girl squirmed, and Septimus raised the knife to her throat, pinning her in place.
"For Lucia!" Septimus cried.
A half-dozen swords rose in the air, causing courtiers to scream and scatter. A cheer split the air. "For Lucia!"
Septimus met Seraena's gaze, his dark eyes glinting.
"If you won't marry me," he said, "then we'll have to do this a different way."
Then he drove the knife downward.