I turn on my stool, my gaze drawn back to the corner where Luceran sits.
His face remains hidden in shadow, but those eyes gleam like distant stars against a moonless sky. Why would he release Rollin after condemning him? It cannot be for the reason Rollin believes. There is no world in which my protest alone swayed a being like Luceran Frostwyn.
And yet.
What if it did?
What if my anguish cracked something open inside him, just enough to spare a life, to grant freedom instead of death? If so… what else might thaw if he allowed more of that frozen heart to feel?
I remain staring into the darkness, oblivious to anything but those eyes, and somehow that is enough to send warmth rippling through me.
Perhaps it is the heat of the inn. Or the ale. Or the satisfaction of a full belly.
Or perhaps it is simply happiness.
My foot begins to tap before I realize it, keeping time as the music quickens. Boots pound harder against the floor, the rhythm intensifies, and the musicians attack their instruments with renewed passion, sound filling every corner of my head.
Before I know it, I’m on my feet.
My hips sway instinctively as I gather a corner of my dress in my hand, fabric swirling as I step toward the dance floor. Laughter greets me. Hands clap in welcome. Voices rise in harmony as the music carries us all.
I spin, arms lifting, skirts flaring as the world blurs into color and sound and movement, turning faster and faster until there is nothing left but rhythm and joy.
Then everything shifts.
The spinning halts, sudden and breath-stealing, and arms slide firmly around my waist, pulling me forward until I am pressed flush against a hard chest. Cold meets warmth, his chill brushing against the heat racing through me, and the contrast sends a sharp shiver down my spine.
I look up.
Luceran’s eyes lock onto mine as he moves with me, slow at first, as though testing the rhythm between us. His hands are tight at my waist, holding me exactly where he wants me. He does not look away. He does not blink.
The pace builds.
He moves faster now, guiding me through the steps, but never loosening his hold, never allowing even the smallest distance between us. Slowly, cautiously, I lift my hands and loop them around his neck, barely able to reach, my fingers brushing cold skin and silk-soft hair. My breath catches. My face must be a picture of disbelief, because I can scarcely comprehend what is happening even as my body responds to it.
And then he smiles.
Not a faint curve of amusement or an irritating smirk.
A real smile.
And in that moment, with music surging around us and bodies moving in time, with his hands steady at my waist and my heart racing far too fast, we are no longer simply standing together.
We are dancing.
The music surges, faster and louder, the rhythm driving harder through the room until the floorboards shudder beneath our feet.
Luceran moves with it effortlessly, guiding me through turns and steps that are far less polite than anything I’ve ever danced before. There is no careful distance, no ceremony in the way he holds me. His hands stay firm at my waist as the pace quickens, as the heat coils tighter in my chest.
I feel everything.
The hard breadth of his shoulders beneath my palms. The strength in his neck as I cling there, the tendons flexing with every movement. The faint ridges of runes etched into his skin beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.
There is want in the way he dances. He aches for it, and he does not bother to pretend otherwise.
Around us, the inn has changed. The laughter has softened into murmurs, voices threading through the music as eyes linger and whisper. I hear speculation and disbelief. I hear his name and the wordpetspoken more than once, but it all fades beneath the roar of blood in my ears.
Then, without warning, he lifts me.
