I felt Kaelith’s stare even before I saw him.
Across the room, he hadn’t moved from his seat, but the sharpness in his posture had changed. His jaw was set hard enough to cut glass. One gloved hand rested on the table, motionless, save for the faint twitch of his fingers—as though he fought the urge to crush the goblet there.
The Frostfather was saying something to him, but Kaelith didn’t answer. His attention was mine, and mine was trapped in return.
Kael twirled me, and my pulse surged. For a fleeting instant, the entire hall seemed to blur away, leaving only heat—his hand, my skin, the rush of forbidden air between us.
When he drew me back in, our bodies nearly touched. His breath brushed the curve of my neck, warm enough to melt the cold clinging to my skin. I felt the strength in his arm, the deliberate steadiness of his hand at my back—commanding but never cruel. It burned through my shirt until I almost thought my skin sizzled. He danced like someone born of sunlight, and I hated how easily he carried me with him.
“Careful with that heat of yours,” I whispered.
He smiled without pulling away. “I thought you liked danger.”
“Not when it looks like you.”
“Liar,” he murmured, low and teasing. The word echoed through me, true in a way I didn’t want to examine.
Laughter rippled somewhere distant, applause for another pair of dancers, but it felt far away. Kael’s thumb brushed against the edge of my glove, just enough to find bare skin. The contact was a spark, sharp and sweet. I felt it race up my arm, settling somewhere behind my ribs, where it didn’t belong.
“I can feel you thinking,” he said, voice a soft dare. “Should I be worried?”
“That depends,” I said. “Do you usually dance with people your brother’s sworn to protect?”
He grinned,slow and wicked. “Only when they’re worth the trouble.”
I looked up at him—too long, too openly—and the air thickened. The frostlight flickered above us, shadows gliding like restless birds. Across the hall, Kaelith hadn’t moved. His stare anchored me as surely as Kael’s hands did. The space between them—between us—felt like the thin stretch of ice before it breaks.
Kael spun me again, slower this time, his fingers tracing the faintest path along my palm as he turned me back toward him. The rhythm of the music swelled, layered and breathless, and for a moment I forgot who was watching, forgot the weight of eyes, the threat of the Frostfather’s silence.
The world narrowed to heartbeat and heat.
Kael leaned close enough that his lips nearly brushed my ear. “You don’t belong in a place that starves itself of warmth,” he said. “They’ll freeze you if you let them.”
I wanted to tell him he was wrong—that I’d survived cold before. But the words caught somewhere in my throat, tangled with the wild, confused flutter that being near him always seemed to summon.
He pulled back just enough for our eyes to meet. There was something dangerous in his gaze—not lust alone, but curiosity, hunger, defiance. The kind that could start wars in a place like this.
I didn’t have time to answer.
Then a tug snapped me back to reality.
A sharp, tearing sound. Cold air against my shoulder.
I gasped and looked down. The strap of my gown hung loose, the delicate silk shredded like gossamer. Lady Calenne stood just behind me, her fingers still curved from the deliberate yank, her expression sweetly innocent.
“Oh,” she said, her tone syruped in mock surprise. “So fragile.Much like you mortals.”
Laughter rippled around her. The kind of laughter meant to wound.
Kael froze beside me, every trace of his easy charm gone. His hand hovered near mine as if debating whether touching me now would help or make it worse.
Before I could move, a shadow fell over us. The temperature dropped hard enough to sting.
Kaelith.
He’d risen from the dais, descending the steps like a storm wearing human shape. The Court fell silent one breath at a time. Even the music faltered.
Lady Calenne’s smile wavered, faltering entirely when Kaelith reached us. His presence filled the air—cold, absolute. His jaw was hard, his eyes a quiet, dangerous gray.
