The affection in his voice pulls heat to my face. “Only if you give me a reason to.”
“Very well.” He sets down his glass and swings me onto the dance floor, a delighted peal of laughter escaping me at the smooth, snapping motion. We come together, one of my hands curled over his shoulder, the other caught against his much larger palm.
Music wends through the paired couples, and for a time, I pretend that I can have this. I can have this dance. I can have this sense of belonging. I can have this man and this night. We sway to a pulse entirely of our own making while the flourish of skirts unfolds around us. My nose brushes his chest, and I inhale his crisp scent, my thoughts spiraling.
Boreas tucks me closer, and I welcome it. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more frightened of this thing growing in my chest. I can’t look at it too closely. Neither can I ignore it. Most days I give it a briefacknowledgment before the wall comes down, my feelings muted behind its adamant shield. But the king’s gentle touch manages to weaken that barrier.
“You haven’t commented on my outfit,” I say, pulling back to look at his face. Orla spent days stitching the dress, not to mention the hours spent on my hair and makeup. The only indication of my husband’s pleasure was how his pupils dilated when he saw me enter the room. Aside from that, nothing.
“That’s because I fear the consequences of overstepping your boundaries.”
“A god, fear me?” My mouth curves at the sheer ridiculousness of it.
“You underestimate your wrath, wife.”
His cheek brushes mine, and my eyes flutter shut at the pleasure of skin on skin contact. “Perhaps I just like to torture you.”
My breath hitches as his mouth grazes the line of my neck. “You are quite good at that,” he concedes. Two steps forward, two steps to the right, until we complete a small circle. I let him lead as the music swells against my ears, a sound so beautiful I know I will never forget this night, if only for the music.
“I was thinking,” I whisper, resting my head on his chest. “There are many doors I’ve yet to explore. Maybe you could show me which ones are worthwhile.”
Even though I can’t see his face, I sense his surprise and, more tentatively, his pleasure. “I would like that very much.”
On and on and on, we dance and dance and do not stop. I once thought his heart a rigid, cold thing, without the capacity to love. But it beats as steadily as mine, and quickens as his hand curls around my hip. As for my heart… it changed its beat to him over time. I wasn’t fully aware of it until now.
“Tell me this is real.”
The voice is mine, but I do not recognize its tremulous hope, the trace of fear that this might all be ripped away.
“My lord?”
Boreas curses under his breath, then pulls back to glare at the guard who interrupted us. “Yes?”
To the man’s credit, he does not flinch. “A couple awaits at the gates. They are mortal.”
Mortal.
I gasp. “Elora!” The excitement builds until I fear I will burst from it. But with excitement comes a heavier emotion, and I bite my lip to hold it in. “I didn’t think she would come.”
He says to the guard, “We will meet them at the gates.”
Grabbing his hand, I lead him down the front steps and across the courtyard, where the gates stand open, two silhouettes cut like dark cloth against the moonlit backdrop. Elora and Shaw wear heavy cloaks, their hands intertwined. Looking upon my twin, I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “You came.”
Brown eyes offset by long, thick lashes lift to meet mine. The delicate muscles of her throat work, and she licks her red painted lips. “I hope we are not too late.”
That she decided to come at all… I feared Elora did not care enough about our relationship to bother mending it.
But she braved the Shade, the Deadlands, for me. I will not soon forget it. “You’re here now,” I whisper hoarsely. “That’s all that matters.” After a moment, I reach out to squeeze her arm tentatively. “Let me show you to the ballroom.”
“Wait.” She lifts a hand. It shakes. “I need to say this.”
With Boreas a solid presence at my back, I wait for Elora to continue.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks. “You were right. I was selfish and inconsiderate. I have been for a long time.” She swallows, bows her head. “When we were young, things were easy. I did not understand the expectation Mama and Papa placed on you to protect me. I did not understand it came at the expense of your own needs. After they passed, it was easier to maintain the status quo.”
“Easier for who?”
Elora flinches. To her credit, she amends, “Selfishly, I wished for things to stay the same. I feared losing the happiness I’d been given. You spent so many years caring for me, choosing my comfort over your own. I never lifted a finger, and for that, I am ashamed.”
