"I wanted to." The truth of it surprises me. A few weeks ago, I hoarded every coin I earned, never knowing when I might need to run again. But now, watching Irida's joy as she makes the tiny dragon dance across her palm, I can't imagine spending money on anything more worthwhile.
We're making our way toward the main temple when the procession begins in earnest. Drummers appear as if from nowhere, their rhythm thrumming through the ground and into my bones. Behind them come dancers in flowing robes that seem to be cut from captured starlight, moving in patterns that make my eyes water to follow.
"The blessing dancers," Thera explains, raising her voice to be heard over the music. "They're honoring Solis and asking for his protection through the coming year."
I watch, mesmerized, as the dancers spin and leap with inhuman grace. Fire blooms from their fingertips, ice crystals spiral around their bodies, and the very air seems to bend to their will. It's magic on a scale I've never witnessed, beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.
But even as I'm caught up in the spectacle, I'm hyperaware of Mihalis beside me. His hand finds mine in the crowd, fingers interlacing with a possessiveness that sends shivers down my spine. Through our bond, I can feel his contentment, his quiet joy at seeing me happy.
The emotions flowing between us are intoxicating. Every time he looks at me, I feel the warmth of his affection like sunlight on my skin. When I squeeze his hand, his pleasure at the simple contact echoes through me until I'm dizzy with it.
This is what I was afraid of—this overwhelming intimacy, this complete vulnerability to another person's feelings. But instead of the suffocating cage I expected, it feels like coming alive.
"Look!" Irida points ahead, her voice high with excitement. "It's the painted rono!"
Sure enough, a massive creature is making its way through the crowd, its three horns decorated with intricate patterns in blue and silver paint. The beast moves with surprising grace despite its size, guided by handlers who seem tiny in comparison.
Flowers have been woven into its thick fur, and ribbons stream from its horns like banners. Children run alongside it, laughing and shouting, while adults step aside with a mixture of awe and healthy respect for something that could trample them without noticing.
"It's beautiful," I breathe, and I mean it. Everything about this celebration, this city, this life I've somehow stumbled into—it's beautiful in ways I never imagined possible.
Mihalis shifts closer, his wing coming around to shelter me from the jostling crowd. The gesture is protective without being possessive, claiming without constraining. Through our bond, I feel his fierce contentment, his satisfaction at having me here beside him.
"Happy?" he asks quietly, his voice pitched for my ears alone.
I look around at the scene before us—Irida dancing with her dragon, Thera laughing at something Rhegan whispered to her, Varos and Ilyra sharing a bag of candied nuts while trying to pretend they're not flirting. The sights and sounds and smells of celebration surround us, but at the center of it all is this: family. Belonging. Home.
"Deliriously," I tell him, and I can feel his smile through our connection even before I see it spread across his face.
It's the first time I've seen him truly, genuinely smile—not the careful expression he shows the world, but something real and unguarded that transforms his entire face. The harsh lines soften, his eyes crinkle at the corners, and for a moment he looksyounger, lighter, like the weight of responsibility has lifted from his shoulders.
Through the bond, his emotions wash over me in waves—love for his daughter, affection for his staff, and something deeper and more complex when his attention turns to me. Desire, yes, but also tenderness, protectiveness, and a bone-deep satisfaction that speaks of coming home after a long journey.
I've never felt anything like this connection before. It's not the chains I feared, but wings. Where I expected to lose myself, I've instead found a part of me I didn't know existed.
As the procession continues around us and the celebration reaches its peak, I make a decision that feels as natural as breathing. No more holding back. No more walls. No more pretending that what I feel for this man and his daughter is anything less than complete, overwhelming love.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, it fills me with a fierce joy that matches the fire dancing through the winter air.
21
HEIDI
The walk home feels different from our journey to the festival. The crowds have thinned as families gather their children and head inside before the evening festivities begin—the wilder celebrations meant for adults only. Irida droops between us, her earlier excitement finally giving way to exhaustion as the honey cakes and sensory overload catch up with her.
"My feet hurt," she announces with the dramatic flair only a six-year-old can manage, stopping dead in the middle of the street.
Without missing a step, Mihalis sweeps her up into his arms, settling her against his chest with the practiced ease of a father who's done this countless times before. Her dark head immediately finds the hollow of his shoulder, tiny fingers curling into his shirt.
"Better?" he asks, voice gentle in a way that still catches me off guard sometimes.
"Mmm," she hums sleepily, then peers at me over his arm. "Did you have fun, Heidi?"
"The best time," I tell her honestly, reaching out to brush a curl away from her face. "Thank you for showing me everything."
She beams at me with drowsy satisfaction before nestling deeper into Mihalis's embrace. Through our bond, I feel the wave of tenderness that crashes through him at her trust, her unconditional love. The fierce protectiveness he carries for her pulses between us like a heartbeat, and I understand with crystalline clarity that this—watching him with his daughter—was what finally broke down my last defenses.
The man who owns a den of vice and sin, who can kill without blinking, who commands respect through fear alone, becomes someone entirely different with Irida in his arms. Gentle. Patient. Devoted beyond measure. The contradiction should be jarring, but instead it reveals the truth of him—that beneath all that controlled danger beats the heart of someone capable of infinite tenderness for those he loves.
