"This new dance, I'd love to learn it. You could teach me."
"It's not a dance," she glared. "It’s—what the Infi is this?!" she asked. "It's not rain. It's not ash. It’s—“
"Snow," Dorian informed her.
Reverie stopped as if he’d slapped her. "Oh." She shifted, and he watched a blush rise on her cheeks, something he was sure was as rare as her. "Oh.Oh, were none of you going to tell me?" she said, having realized they were watching her.
"Who? Our friends? No. Definitely not," he teased. "They were quite enjoying the free entertainment."
Her lips twisted in annoyance. "I should murder you all in your sleep."
As she turned to grab her gloves from the saddlebag, her hood fell, and for a moment, Dorian simply stared at the stark silver of her hair against the landscape. The mountains behind her, snow dusting the valley. A fleck landed on her cheek, and he resisted the urge to wipe it away.
"I can feel you staring, Prince," she uttered as she turned back to him, her lavender eyes now appearing more prominent against her skin and hair.
He forgot how to talk.
"Speechless," she muttered as amusement rose in her gaze. "You know, with this lighting and your closed mouth, you're actually not so bad looking yourself."
A compliment he was going to hang on to as he hung onto the image of her against that morning sun.
With a smirk, she deliberately pushed past him to make her way to the others. The Blackhands all greeted her with mockery, asking her about her dancing and teasing her for not realizing what snow was. She gave it back to them without missing a beat and settled onto a rock.
Corbin caught Dorian's gaze. Dorian gave him a look of furrowed brows and scrunched face, mouthing 'fuck'to his Second, hands curling up at his bent elbows— trying to bring a face to the embarrassment he felt at becoming speechless. Corbin chuckled in response, and Dorian knew he would be hearing it from his Second later.
It took them the rest of the morning and a few hours into the afternoon before they reached the outskirts of Dahrkenhill, and once they did arrive in the town, they were greeted with a throng of people on their own horses.
Dorian frowned at the people coming up on them as though they were some enemy company. Reverie and Corbin had both pulled their swords, but Hagen held up a hand.
"No need for that," he told them.
"I forget you all and your...Sensitivities," Dorian remembered, referring to how Blackhands could feel vibrations in the earth.
Hagen’s lips flinched like he was fighting a smile. "Hang tight here while I speak with them." He clicked his tongue and picked up pace in front to greet his people.
"What is our plan?" Reverie asked as Hagen went ahead.
"What do you mean?" Dorian replied.
"I mean, he plans on putting you in chains, does he not?"
Dorian shrugged. "Probably."
"How are you so nonchalant about this?" she asked.
"You get used to it," Corbin muttered.
"We are to let you be taken as a prisoner?" Reverie continued.
A sly grin crooked on Dorian’s lips. "Concerned for my safety already?” he bantered. “Does the way I looked in that snow yesterday morning have something to do with your suddenly being soft? If I recall correctly, you liked it."
"Do not mistake my wanting to secure you as my own prisoner and leverage as my being nice to you, Prince,” she snapped.
"Looks like you'll have to learn to share for a while," Corbin interjected.
Hagen rejoined the group, calling out, "It seems we have a welcoming party," as the sneering men he'd conversed with turned back toward the town. He gave Corbin and Reverie upwards nods. "Seconds, you'll want to flank your Prince. Do not stop. Do not engage. Dag, Falke—“ Hagen called back, “—keep them back. They’ve started the riots."
"Riots?" Reverie repeated.
