But his eyes kept drifting back to her.
Always back to her.
She crossed the floor, the crystal beading on her dress catching the light with every step. Twilight fabric shifting between purple and midnight blue. Starlight scattered across darkness.
His colors. His realm's aesthetic. The Forsaken Court wrapped around her body like an embrace.
She'd come here furious with him, determined to punish him, to prove she didn't need him. And she'd dressed herself in him without even realizing it.
The knowledge hit him somewhere deep in his chest. Made it hard to breathe.
She looked like she belonged among the Death Lords and their courts, not as a tribute or a tool, but as something powerful in her own right. She looked like what she was: descended from those who'd built the barriers between worlds.
And she was dancing with everyone except him.
He'd done this to himself. Kept her in the dark. Made choice after choice for her without asking. This was exactly what he'd earned.
The truth didn't make it hurt any less.
The dance ended with a graceful spin, Caelum's hand at her waist steadying her. He bowed over her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles in a gesture that lingered just a fraction too long.
She smiled in response.
Not the guarded mask she'd worn around Dante for days. The polite distance, the forced neutrality. This was warm. Unguarded.
His jaw clenched hard enough that he felt his teeth grind together.
He'd done this. He'd done this. He'd done this.
Vex approached before she'd fully stepped away from Caelum, offering his arm with that charming smile that always hid his true intent. Dante saw her tense, clearly remembering their last encounter.
But she still took Vex's arm after only a moment's hesitation.
Dante's hands curled into fists at his sides.
Vex's hand claimed her waist, pulling her into the dance. The touch was possessive, his fingers spread across the small of her back. Right where the fabric met the curve of her spine.
The bastard held her far too close. His lips brushed her ear as he murmured words that Dante couldn't hear, but could see the effect of. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, a reluctant laugh escaping her throat.
That sound cut straight through him.
Bright and musical and rare. He could count on one hand the number of times she'd laughed in his presence. Each one had felt like a gift, something precious she'd chosen to share with him.
Now she was offering it to Vex. Vex, who'd cornered her, threatened her, and put his hands on her against her will.
And Dante couldn't do a damn thing about it because he'd forfeited the right to protect her when he'd proven himself unworthy of her trust.
"You look like you're planning someone's funeral," Seraphina observed, materializing beside him with a goblet in hand. Her red hair caught the light, and her expression was one of amusement rather than concern.
"I'm always planning someone's funeral." The words came out rougher than intended.
"Mm." She followed his gaze to where Vex was spinning Brynn through another turn, his hand still splayed across her back. The movement made the beading on her dress shimmer. Made the fabric shift against her curves in ways that made Dante's blood run hot. "Though usually not quite so personally. Usually, you don't look like you want to tear someone apart with your bare hands."
His shadows had begun to writhe around his feet.
Several nearby nobles edged away, recognizing the warning signs.
The music swelled, and Vex dipped her low. Too low, his face hovering inches from hers, his grip spanning her back with intimate familiarity. The neckline of her dress gaped slightly, revealing the hollow of her throat, the curve of her collarbones.
