It has to be worth the risk of what happens if Darian ever finds out.
I drain the rest of my wine, the sweetness clinging to my lips, and step deeper into the heart of the festival. The incense wraps around me like a second skin, the music thrums in my bones, and for the first time since I can remember, I feel something other than fear.
I feel alive.
The music swells, and I'm moving toward the dancers when a hand catches my elbow.
I freeze. Every muscle locks tight, instinct screaming at me to jerk away, to apologize, to make myself smaller. But when I turn, it's not Darian's face I see. It's a xaphan man, his wings a mottled brown-gray that marks him as common-born. His mask is simple leather, and his smile is anything but.
"Dancing alone?" His fingers tighten just enough that I feel the pressure through my sleeve. "That's a waste of a body like yours."
Heat floods my face. I try to pull back, but his grip holds. "I'm not—I wasn't?—"
"Come on." He leans closer, wine thick on his breath. "Don't play coy. That's what everyone's here for, isn't it? Finding someone to spend the night with."
My stomach drops. Spend the night with? What is he talking about? I thought this was a festival.
"I think you've mistaken me for someone else." I tug harder, and this time he lets go, but only to step into my space. His smile widens, showing too many teeth.
"No mistake. You're here, aren't you? Wearing that dress, drinking their wine. You know what this festival is."
"I don't—" The words tangle in my throat. I step back, and he follows. "I'm just here to watch."
"Watch." He laughs, low and ugly. "Right. And I'm here to pray."
Another step back. Then another. My heel catches on the cobblestones, and I stumble, arms windmilling for balance. I expect to hit the ground, to feel stone crack against my spine, but instead I collide with something solid. Someone.
Hands catch my shoulders, steadying me, and a voice rumbles from behind—low and edged with something dark.
"There you are. I was trying to find you."
I go still. The voice doesn't belong to anyone I know. It can't. But the xaphan in front of me stiffens, his smile faltering as his gaze lifts over my shoulder.
"Didn't realize she was spoken for." His hands come up in a gesture of surrender, backing away fast enough that I know whoever's behind me must be someone worth fearing. "Apologies."
He melts into the crowd before I can blink.
I stand there, heart hammering, still held in place by those steadying hands. They're warm through the thin silk of my dress,firm but not harsh. Not cruel. The grip loosens after a moment, giving me the choice to pull away if I want.
I don't.
Instead, I turn.
And look up.
The xaphan behind me is tall—so tall I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. His wings are the first thing I notice, light gray but shot through with cobalt that catches the lantern light like hidden lightning. They're folded against his back, not spread in display like so many of the others here. Controlled. Deliberate.
His mask is blue, a simple but elegant bird-like creation, covering the upper half of his face and leaving his jaw visible. Sharp cheekbones, a mouth set in a neutral line that could be stern or just cautious. Dark hair tied back at his nape, a few strands escaping to frame his face.
But it's his eyes that pin me in place.
Storm-blue, ringed with gold that flickers in the firelight. They're studying me with an intensity that makes my breath catch, like he's seeing past the mask, past the dress, straight through to something I didn't know I was hiding.
He's beautiful. Not in the way of the other xaphan I've seen tonight—all flash and brilliance and preening. This is different. Sharper. Like a blade honed for a purpose I can't name.
And he doesn't look cruel. Doesn't look like he'd enjoy making someone smaller just to feel bigger himself.
I hope.
