I risk a glance at her. Her eyes are wide, searching my face.
“Done,” I say. “If Fortuna disapproves, she can send storm. Hopefully not while we are outside.”
Sophia’s lips twitch. She steps beside me, touches the edge of the shrine lightly with her fingertips, and draws in a small, sharp breath. Barely there, but I hear it.
She looks at the shrine instead of me, which somehow makes the moment feel bigger. Heavier. Like the wish touched her too, even if she’ll never say how. Then, she drops her coin in after mine. The faint clink sounds like a promise.
We stand there for a moment longer, neither of us moving. The fountain murmurs behind us. The party sounds distant, muffled by trees and night air.
When we finally walk toward the lanterns, she’s quiet. Too quiet. I can feel something shifting in her—a weight she’s carrying that wasn’t there before.
“I had a call with Dr. Blackwell this afternoon,” she says almost casually. “Before the party.”
Instinct prickles along my spine. The same warning I get when an opponent circles behind me.
“Oh?”
“She wanted to talk about some of the ideas I’ve been developing here.” Sophia smooths the dress as if the motion steadies her. “About your healing techniques. The way you talked about different kinds of pain. I mentioned a few of the concepts andshe…” She swallows. “She sounded really excited. Said this line of work could open doors if I frame it right.”
Open doors.
Doors lead out as often as they lead in.
I force my jaw to unclench. “Is good,” I say. “You deserve doors to open.”
She looks up at me, brow furrowing. “You don’t sound… thrilled.”
I search for the right words. “Am glad your advisor sees value in what you do.” I pause, trying to pin down the unease. “Just… be careful. With how much you share. Before it is finished.”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” And I don’t. It’s instinct, not reason. “Something about way she asked. Feels like…” I shake my head. “Like when opponent watches too close. Waits for opening.”
Her eyes sharpen—the same look she gives me when she’s certain I’m wrong about something. “She’s not like that.”
I nod, even as my gut says otherwise. “If you say so.”
She studies me for a moment longer, then sighs. “I’ll make sure the information you and the others share is used ethically.” Her hand brushes my forearm lightly, a quick reassurance. “I wouldn’t let anyone reduce you to a footnote, Flavius.”
The quiet fierceness in her voice is its own kind of vow.
“Come on,” she says, clearing her throat. “Before Maya decides we’re boring and comes to drag us back to the dance floor.”
We return to the heart of the party. As we step into the lantern light again, conversations pause. Not long. Not dramatically. But enough that I feel the shift.
Maya’s eyes go straight to our joined orbit like a moth to flame. Laura watches us with a soft, satisfied smile that says she’s been waiting for this since the day Sophia arrived. Even Thrax’s woman, Skye, who usually does her best to stay out of other people’s business, gives us a look that can only be described as fond.
Thrax leans down to murmur in my ear as he passes on his way to the grill. “Told you,” he says. “Everyone can see it now.”
I want to deny it. I don’t.
Instead, I find Sophia’s gaze again. The noise of the party blurs. Her mouth curves into a small, private smile meant only for me.
Everyone else may see it.
But in this moment, under Fortuna’s lanterns and the soft thrum of music, it feels like there are only two of us here at all.
By the time the party winds down, I’m tired in a good way—muscles loose, heart full, the kind of exhaustion that comes from joy instead of stress.
