She sucks in a frazzled gasp.
“Go get ‘em, Teddy!” Rubi hollers, taking a frenzied gulp from her tankard, enjoying the show.
Therion spins Seren around, and faces the table where we sit, mesmerized by thespectacle. “You know,” he says, voice fast and chaotic, “I like it when you call me Teddy. You should all do it. Teddy. Teddy Ashborne. Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”
I laugh. I can’t help it. I can’t contain it. I laugh, loud and uninhibited.
I would cut down armies for that laugh, Kael admits down the tether, and I blush under his adoration.
But it’s Therion—Teddy—who holds my attention.
He spins and twirls, sways and whirls. His hips gyrate and grind to the fiddle, and Seren’s eyes blow wide as his face nuzzles into her neck.
“Not here, Teddy,” she admonishes.
Her hands fly up, as if to shove him away, but the music shifts and the whole room stomps and claps in time. Chants for Teddy dancing on the air. Her lips part, indecision flashing across her face. For half a heartbeat she looks like she’ll bolt. Then—her eyes spark with something reckless.
“Oh, fuck it,” Seren mutters, and to everyone’s shock she tugs her own cloak free, tossing it aside with a flourish. Her tunic follows, leaving her top half in only her thin shift, the fabric clinging to her breasts as she kicks her boots off into the crowd.
The crowd erupts as she grabs Therion’s hand and spins into him, her laughter spilling loose and wild. For the first time since I’ve known her, she isn’t just enduring—she’s alive, glowing, reckless. She matches him step for step, hips swaying with his, hair whipping as he lifts her in a dizzy twirl.
I spin my gaze to Rubi, a winning glint in her eyes. “You’re welcome,” she says without looking at me.
“Thank you,” I breathe, because despite the deception, their joy is infectious.
Ronyn presses to stand, hand outstretched to Jax. “I am enjoying the concept of removing clothes. Keep that in mind, would you?”
She swats at his arm playfully, but she grabs his hand to dance.
“As far as variations of Therion go, there’s uptight Therion, and loose Teddy—I much prefer the latter,” Ronyn admits, before leading Jax into the open space.
But my eyes fall on Kael’s—soft, thoughtful, and I know he’s somewhere else. Thinking of war, duty, priorities. Something other than the beauty before us.
Where did you go?I ask down the tether.
He closes his eyes for a heartbeat, breathing deeply.I was etching this into my memory—because this is why we need to take back Aevryn. To protect the peace of those we love most.
He’s thinking like a king. Not just a friend. Not a lover. But the leader of a nation he’s sworn to protect.
And in a heartbeat, the thought sobers me, because so am I.
Like a blade to the ribs, I realize that joy is fleeting, and war still looms.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
KAEL
The tavern smellsof stale ale and bodies gone slack with exhaustion. Tankards overturned, cards scattered, boots propped on tables—my companions look more like common drunks than the best warriors of the known realms. But I savor the moment—taking it in while they sleep.
Elyssara’s head rests against my shoulder, her breath soft, steady. The tether hums with contentment, and for a moment I let myself believe this—the peace, revelry, joy—could last. That laughter, spilled wine, and reckless dancing could exist without consequence.
But peace never lasts.Not for us.
The door slams open at the top of the stairs. Lantern light flares. Boots hit the stone steps, and a woman strides down, robes snapping with the kind of authority no drunk or rebel could ever ignore.Mavyrn.
Her sharp eyes sweep the wreckage of our revelry, landing on me with a sharpness that rivals the tip of a blade. “You,” she hisses, voice taut with urgency. “Get up. All of you. Nymeris waits, and time is running out.”
Around me, groans and curses stir as the others rouse from their stupor. Ronyn mutters something about roasted meats.Rubi snickers. Seren clutches her shift tighter, cheeks blazing from the memory of last night’s wildness, no doubt.
