He guides me across the floor with ease, his movements smooth and confident. He anticipates the music, leading me through turns and steps I barely have to think about. All I have to do is follow, letting my body respond to the gentle pressure of his hand on my waist, the way he guides me with subtle shifts of his weight.
“How did you—” I stare up at him in amazement, then pause as he twirls me before pulling me back in. With a smile, I say, “How did you learn to dance like this?”
A slight flush colors his cheeks, and he looks almost sheepish. “I’ve been taking secret dance lessons.”
“Secret dance lessons?” I repeat, blinking in surprise. “With who?”
“Raelan and Alina,” he admits, guiding us around the other couples with fluid steps. “I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t want to embarrass you on the dance floor.”
My throat goes tight with emotion. “You’ve been learning to dance... for me?”
He nods once. “I knew the ball was coming, and I just... I wanted this to be perfect. Or as close to perfect as I could make it.”
I blink against the sudden moisture misting across my eyes. He learned to waltz just so he could dance with me, just so he could make this my perfect night.
“You’re amazing,” I whisper.
He laughs, the sound warm and tinged with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m really not. But I’m trying.”
I glance to my left, where Alina and Raelan are waltzing nearby. Her pale blue hair shines in the moonlight, and Raelan looks at her like he always does—like she holds universes in her eyes, like she’s all he needs to breathe. Alina turns her head and catches my eye, and a knowing smile tugs on her lips.
I return her smile, still fighting back tears.
And then I notice the memory mist gathering around us. Luminous silver-blue wisps begin to swirl at our feet, then rise higher, spiraling around us in delicate ribbons as we continue to dance.
Other dancers notice. Some pause mid-step to watch, and I feel their attention like a physical weight. A few months ago, this would have terrified me. Being the center of attention, being seen, being watched—it would have sent me scurrying for a shadow to hide myself in.
But now I’m no longer afraid. I know I belong here, in Aric’s arms, dancing under the blue moon as snow falls gently outside.
The mist thickens around us, images forming in the swirling silver. Memories, I realize.Mymemories.
I’ve dreamed of this moment more times than I can count.
I see the library—Aric slouched in the chair across from me, looking skeptical while I clutch my notebook of tutoring rules. The memory feels both distant and immediate, like I’m watching it through a window into the past.
The image shifts. Now we’re in the carriage on our way to Faunwood, watching the prairie fish swim through the air outside the window, their scales glowing in the darkness. I remember the wonder I felt in that moment, the way Aric’s hand found mine, the tangible spark of something more between us.
Another shift. I see the Whim on Samhain—darkness and candlelight and the two of us tangled together beneath the old oak, breathless and lost in each other. My cheeks flush at the memory even as warmth pools low in my belly.
And then the mist shows me something I haven’t experienced yet.
Aric and me, in his dorm room. His hands on my bare skin, curious and careful. My body pressed against his, our mouths locked in a passionate kiss. The image is hazy but unmistakable—a vision of what I want, what I’m ready for.
My breath catches.
I want that. I want him—fully, completely.
The music swells, and Aric dips me low, his arm strong and steady beneath my back. As I gaze up at him, I know without a shred of doubt that he’d never let me fall.
He pulls me upright, and the waltz continues. I lose myself in the movement, in the warmth of his body against mine, in the way the memory mist still swirls around us like it wants to join in. Other couples have resumed dancing, but I’m aware of their lingering glances, of the whispered conversations.
Let them look. Let them see. I’m done hiding.
Through all the dancers, I catch a glimpse of...
The king.
“Aric,” I whisper. “Look.”
