He needed torefusethem, because Soraya was hisnow,in the present.
And Arawn had no place holding her hand like that.
Kinlear was about to limp his way towards the dance floor, to use his very best weapon –words– to chase his brother off. Let him find someone else to release his Sacred tensions with.
But as the two had reached the center of the dance floor, Arawn paused.
And passed Soraya a handkerchief.
Kinlear sucked in a breath.
She wascrying.
He’d never seen Soraya cry.
He paused and watched like it was some strange, otherworldly thing, the shimmering of tears on her cheeks. Like it was a dream of its own, for Soraya was strong as iron, stronger than any blade.
She did not so easily break.
But that night?
Shedidlook broken. She took an uneasy breath and removed her mask so she could wipe the tears from beneath her eyes.
And Arawn leaned down, said something to her, his hand on her shoulder. He left it there a bit longer than he should have. That touch...it lingered, until Kinlear could imagine the warmth she felt beneath it.
Soraya had smiled up at Arawn as she handed the handkerchief back to him. And then, for a moment...
His brother just stared down at her. His face was soft, no longer marked by the furrowed brow that was trademark with him.
He looked at Soraya as if she were an injured dove.
A beautiful, broken thing.
He’d whispered something to Soraya, who smiled sadly and shook her head. And then Arawn had used his own hand to wipe her godsdamned tears. So gently, he touched her. So... lovingly. He spoke in soft, hushed words that Kinlear couldn’t hear over the dancing and the music, but then hedidhear Soraya’s laugh.
It had echoed back to where he stood in the doorway, a frozen thing.
A statue...to terrified to move.
Her tears were gone. A smile took their place, but it turned into a grin, and then a joyous, surprisedyelpwhen Arawn had suddenly spun her onto the dance floor.
They danced together until the next song began. And the next one, and the next after that.
And perhaps any other man would have stormed the floor, demanded his betrothed’s hand be given back tohim –the moment was Kinlear’s to share, and Soraya’s hand washisto hold.
But that night...he didn’t.
Because all he could see was her tears again, ones that he knew were forhim.He’d done that to her. He’d abandoned her. He’d left her alone, in a dress that was from him, a dress that she never would have worn if he hadn’t asked her to.
But it had all melted away as he coughed again, and pain shot through his back, his chest, his aching body. He had nothing left in his vial, and it wasn’t an optionnotto replace it. His leg was trembling, ready to buckle as he leaned heavily upon his cane.
But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Soraya.
From how freely she’d danced with Arawn. From how effortlessly she’d moved, in a way that she wouldneverbe able to if Kinlear were her partner. She’d be too busy trying not to trip over his cane.
Arawn had no cane. He had no vial around his neck.
The Crown Prince stood tall and towering and strong, his footsteps sure as he guided her across the dance floor. He wasn’t even breathless after he picked her up, after he spun her like she was made of air.
