“Ready, wife?” He extended his hand, palm up. “They’ll expect us to dance the moment we’re announced.”
I placed my fingers in his, savoring the familiar spark of our connection. “For better or worse, husband.”
The guards rushed forward, pulling the doors open, and inside, a herald’s voice rang out: “His Majesty, King Kieran Nightblood, and Her Majesty, Queen Cyrene Moonwhisper Thornwick Nightblood.”
The crowd parted, revealing an empty dance floor.
We strode out onto the smooth marble surface.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
KIERAN
The ballroom fell silent as Cyrene and I stepped onto the polished marble floor. Hundreds of eyes tracked us. Some curious, some admiring, and others calculating. My advisors worked their way to the front of the group, their expressions ranging from Broadworthy’s encouraging nod to Lady Aragorn’s nose in the air.
I barely registered any of them. My focus narrowed to the woman beside me, gorgeous in midnight blue, her dark hair gleaming beneath her silver circlet. Magic pulsed between us where our hands joined, a subtle current that made the embroidery on our matching outfits shimmer.
“They’re waiting to see us fail,” Cyrene whispered, her voice steady despite the tension in her frame.
“We will disappoint them.” I guided her to the center of the floor.
We took our positions, facing each other with the traditional distance between us, far enough that only our fingertips could touch. A signal to the musicians, and the first haunting notes filled the air.
The Shadow Rite began as it always had, with formality and precision. Right foot forward, left crossing behind, arms extended. We moved in perfect synchronization, our bodies already accustomed to each other’s rhythms after days of practice.
Cyrene’s eyes never left mine as we circled one another. The initial steps were meant to represent two separate lives, two souls examining each other from a distance. Proper. Restrained. Every movement deliberate.
But there was nothing restrained about the way my heart slammed against my ribs when she turned, the candlelight catching the silver threads in her gown. Nothing proper about the heat that coursed through me when her fingertips brushed mine in the first tentative contact of the dance.
We moved closer, our paths beginning to intertwine. The tempo increased, and with it, the complexity of the footwork. This was where many couples faltered, where the slightest mistiming could throw the entire sequence into disarray.
But Cyrene and I didn’t miss a step. Her movements flowed into mine as if we’d been dancing together our entire lives.
As our bodies drew nearer, I caught the faint scent of honeysuckle on her skin. Her magic hummed beneath the surface, responding to the music, to my proximity, and to the charged atmosphere in the ballroom.
“Ready?” I whispered as we approached the transition into the third movement.
A smile lit her eyes. “With you? Always.”
I caught her waist, lifting her in an arc before setting her down to spin away, our fingers remaining linked by the barest touch. When she returned to me, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with exhilaration. Joy magic sparked in the air between us, responding not just to her, but to us.
The music swelled, and I pulled her closer, one hand at the small of her back, the other cradling hers against my chest. We swept across the floor, no longer simply following choreography but moving as if our bodies were extensions of the same impulse.
And then I felt the first tendrils of her magic reaching for mine, golden light twining with midnight blue. Not draining or consuming, but blending, creating something new.
For years, I’d held my power in check. Vampire magic could be volatile, dangerous when unleashed. My father had taught me control above all else, caution in place of abandon.
But here, with Cyrene’s magic flowing into mine, with her trust showing in every touch and every glance, I stopped holding back.
I let my magic rise to meet hers.
Midnight blue energy surged from my skin, spiraling upward to dance with her golden light. The patterns swirled faster, higher, until we moved within a cocoon of mingled magic that painted the ballroom in shades of gold and blue.
Gasps echoed through the crowd. From the corner of my eye, I caught glimpses of shocked faces, of nobles nudging one another, pointing.
“It’s working,” Cyrene whispered, awe in her voice.
“Did you doubt it would?”
