I glance around for Lyra—and there she is. That unmistakable red hair flowing behind her as she disappears into the shadows, hand-in-hand with Garrick.
I burst out laughing, the sound unexpected and bright. The world tilts—pleasantly unsteady.
I move freely. Carelessly.
Exactly the way I wanted to. But even in the spin, I feel it.
Him.
Thane is watching. I catch glimpses of him between the blur of bodies—still standing exactly where I left him. Unmoving. Expression stone-faced.
But his eyes?
They follow me. Every step. Every spin. Every laugh that isn’t for him.
And for the first time tonight, I feel something different take root in my chest.
Vindication.
So I do something reckless.
Before I can second-guess myself, I turn toward Kieran—the wine buzzing through my veins, making me bold, careless. He’s laughing, lost in the rhythm.
When our eyes meet, he grins—open, easy, unguarded.
I don’t think. I just act. I grab the front of his shirt and pull him down, pressing my lips to his in a swift, impulsive kiss. Nothing deep. Nothing serious—just a playful, tipsy spark tossed into the night air.
But the moment I pull away—breathless, laughing, my heart racing—I feel it.
Him.
Thane’s gaze. Heavy. Unrelenting.
Look at what you’re missing out on, Warlord.
But he’s not unreadable anymore. His expression has sharpened—colder. Harder. He doesn’t move, but the tension in his jaw, the edge in his eyes—it cuts.
Then, he turns on his heel and walks into the dark—swallowed by the night as if he never stood there at all.
And just like that—the victory feels hollow.
Something twists deep in my chest—an ache the wine can’t quite dull. Still, I smile. Laugh a little too brightly as Kieran pulls me back into the dance.
I let the rhythm drown it out.
The kiss.
The silence.
The way Thane didn’t even flinch.
If he wants to walk away—fine.I’ll dance the night away without him. Even if my steps feel just a little heavier than they did before.
THANE
The music rises—drums pulsing, flutes weaving through laughter and firelight. Summer clings to the night air, golden and warm.
But I don’t feel any of it. I’m standing at the edge of the clearing, just beyond the bonfire’s reach, watchingher.
