4
SENNA
Idon't know when I stopped keeping track of time. When the hour he promised his sister became something neither of us mentions. But Lorenth hasn't pulled away, hasn't made any move to leave, and I'm certainly not going to be the one to remind him.
When my feet start to ache from dancing, he notices before I say anything. His hand slides from my back, fingers trailing down my arm until they find my wrist.
"Come on." His voice is low, meant only for me despite the music swelling around us. "There's more to see."
He leads me through the crowd, his grip sure and possessive in a way that makes my stomach flutter. People part for him—some because of his wings, massive and elegant even folded against his back, others because of something in his bearing that demands space. I follow in his wake, my dress swirling around my legs as we weave between dancers and performers.
The square opens up ahead, revealing sections I hadn't noticed before. Booths draped in pink silk and red ribbons line the cobblestones, each one manned by Nashai with their glowing white eyes and ethereal grace. Lanterns hang overhead inclusters, their light shifting from crimson to rose to soft amber, casting everything in hues that make my heart squeeze.
It's beautiful. More beautiful than anything I've ever seen.
"This way." Lorenth's thumb brushes against my pulse point, and I wonder if he can feel how fast my heart is racing.
We stop at a booth where a Nashai woman offers winter-berries in shallow silver bowls. The fruit glows faintly, dusted with something that sparkles in the lantern light. Magic, probably. Everything here feels touched by it.
Lorenth picks up a berry, examining it before holding it out to me. "Try one."
I take it from his fingers, our skin brushing, and pop it in my mouth. The taste explodes across my tongue—sweet and tart and cold, like biting into frozen starlight. I gasp, and Lorenth's lips curve into something that's almost a smile.
"Good?" He's already reaching for another, this time bringing it to my lips himself.
I part them without thinking, and he slides the berry in, his fingertips grazing my lower lip. Heat floods through me, settling low in my belly, and I have to remind myself to chew. To swallow. To breathe.
"Very good," I manage, and his eyes darken.
He eats one himself, never looking away from me, and I watch his throat work as he swallows. Watch the way his jaw tightens and then relaxes. I shouldn't find that attractive. Shouldn't be cataloging every detail of how he moves, how he tastes the fruit like he's memorizing it.
But I am.
We move on, and everywhere I look there's something new. A performer juggling flames that shift colors mid-air—blue to green to violet. A group of Nashai singing in harmony, their voices layered and haunting, telling a story about lovers reunited across lifetimes. A fountain where the water flows upwardinstead of down, sparkling droplets suspended in the air before falling back into the basin.
I can't stop staring. Can't stop taking it all in like I'm afraid if I blink, it'll all disappear.
Darian never let me see things like this. Never let me leave the house except for errands, and even then he'd time me. Make sure I came straight back. But this—this is magic and wonder and everything I've been missing locked away in that suffocating marriage.
Not that it's a real marriage. Not in any way that matters.
I know he cheats. Know he spends his late nights in other women's beds, gambling in the taverns I'm not allowed to go near. I don't care. If anything, I'm grateful for it. Grateful for every night he doesn't come home, every moment I don't have to feel his hands on me or hear his voice cutting me down.
Here, with Lorenth, I don't feel guilty. Don't feel like I'm doing anything wrong.
I feel alive.
"You're smiling." Lorenth's voice pulls me back, and I realize he's right. My face actually hurts from how wide I'm grinning.
"I'm enjoying this," I admit, gesturing at the square around us. "I've always wanted to see a festival.
I turn to face him fully, and his expression shifts. Softens. "I'm glad I could be here with you then."
He studies me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind those storm-blue eyes ringed with gold. Then he reaches out, tucking a stray curl behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek.
"Come on." His voice is rougher now, edged with something I can't name. "There's more."
He guides me to another section where a Nashai man offers glasses of sparkling wine from a tray that floats beside him, hovering at shoulder height without any visible support. Theglasses themselves are delicate, etched with patterns that catch the light—hearts and stars and swirling vines.
