We assure her we saw it.
“Damn, this kid is going to be a handful,” she says cheerfully. “I already told Aurus he’s on diaper duty.”
“Good,” I say, eyeing her belly. “Because there’s a real chance that baby is going to be bigger than you within a few weeks.”
Kim snickers and so does Emma, but Haley palms her own stomach, looking alarmed.
“I’m kidding,” I tell her.
“Oh, of course,” she says, dropping her hand. But she’s been touching her belly all night long. Supposedly she’s coming to the appointment tomorrow for a basic checkup, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we get a positive pregnancy test.
“You look beautiful,” Emma says, her blue eyes wide as she takes in my shimmering red-purple gown.
“Thanks. So do you.”
“How do you get your hair to float like that?” Kim asks.
“Magic,” I murmur. Rogue ruffles the curls at the base of my neck.
A light trilling sound, much like the song of the singing lizards, signals the start of the music. It’s time for the first dance. The flute-like sound swells into a majestic march, played by the royal musicians at the end of the ballroom.
A prickle runs up my spine, followed by a swelling sense of contentment. I don’t have to turn my head to know that Bestian is behind me.
He places a large hand on my back, and I savor his delicious scent. “Pardon me, Your Majesties,” he says. “As the hosts, I believe the first dance is ours.”
I grin at my friends and let Bestian guide me away to the center of the room. He twirls me out across the dancefloor and we acknowledge our guests with a bow and curtsey in a choreographed movement that would make the pomp-and-circumstance lovers proud. I rise and face him, and the heat in his eyes takes my breath away.
He’s not wearing a mask. I know he has one that matches my gown. I even suggested we make this ball a masquerade. Masks areen voguenow, ever since Bestian first ventured out of the palace wearing his. All the high-fashion people in Medea City wear them to mimic the king.
When he demurred against a masquerade, I didn’t realize he meant he’d also leave his mask off. He doesn't wear one around me, but it makes him more comfortable around other people.
I take his outstretched hand and squeeze it. “You look gorgeous,” I say.
“That’s what I was going to say.”
We share a smile.
All around us, our guests are watching, but it’s easy to forget them and pretend it’s just the two of us here.
He pulls me into his arms and we begin to dance. He leads me in the steps—an elegant blend of traditional Medii dance steps and a formal Earth-style waltz.
He tugs me closer, and the wind surges under my feet.
Below us, the crowd gasps. We’re floating on an invisible platform, right up to the sky.
And then we’re alone, because we’ve risen right up through the magical ceiling and out across the garden. I laugh.
“What amuses you?” he asks.
“You amuse me. We invited a bunch of guests over, organized a fancy-ass ball, and now we’re dancing all alone outside.”
“King’s prerogative.” He looks smug. But through the bond, I can sense his other emotions—his pride and power, his desire to protect me, his adoration.
His love.
“I guess it’s okay for a little while,” I say. “But then we have to go back. We do have responsibilities, as hosts.”
“Bossy Omega.”
“You love it.”
“I do. Ulf help me. I do.” And with that, he spins me around to the music of our laughter, dancing in the air over endless fields of glowing moonflowers.
Just like in a fairytale.
THE END
