And why haven’t we met him before?”
Sorcha hesitated, her mind racing for an explanation. “Because… he lives further away, near Ironridge,” she said, her voice steady. “We met as kids, and I’ve only seen him randomly since then.”
The lie felt heavy on her tongue, and she hoped Eirin wouldn’t notice the slight tension in her voice.
Eirin studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before finally nodding. “If you say so. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said, his tone softening as his gaze turned warm and reassuring.
The music shifted then, fading into a more upbeat melody, breaking the tension. Sorcha smiled faintly, grateful for the distraction. Eirin offered his arm, and together they walked back toward the group.
At the edge of the crowd, Kyron was chatting away, his voice smooth as he shared his recent exploits. Mason leaned in, his green and sliver tunic catching the light as he grinned. “So, you’re telling me you stared down a group of mercenaries and they just… walked away? Sounds like a story to me.”
Kyron chuckled, unbothered. “They didn’t just walk away, they ran. Sometimes a bit of confidence is all it takes to shift the odds.”
Rhosyn smirked as she adjusted the folds of her burnt-orange dress. “Or maybe the odds just favored you this time,” she teased.
“Perhaps,” Kyron replied, his smile faintly enigmatic.
As Sorcha and Eirin rejoined the group, Kyron’s gaze shifted to her immediately, his tone casual but pointed. “And how was the dance?”
“It was fine,” Sorcha replied curtly, feeling the weight of Eirin’s presence beside her.
Kyron’s gaze flicked to Eirin, whose stare was unyielding. Unfazed, Kyron offered him a confident smile before turning back to Sorcha. “I was hoping you’d let me steal you away again, but not for a dance,” he said smoothly. “I’d like to walk the festival with you.”
Eirin stood beside her again, he didn’t try to hide the irritation he felt but his confidence held steady.
Before Sorcha could answer, Drystan broke the tension with a dramatic sigh. “If you don’t go with him, Sorcha, I will,” he said with a wink. “And honestly, who could blame me?”
The group broke into soft laughter; the tension easing just slightly. Rhosyn rolled her eyes. “You’re a little too much, you know that, Drystan?”
“It’s part of my charm,” he replied.
Kyron’s smile widened, his attention fixed solely on Sorcha. “So, what do you say?” he asked, extending his arm.
Sorcha hesitated, glancing at Eirin and then back at Kyron. She could feel the unspoken tension radiating from Eirin, but Kyron’s presence was magnetic, and the question hung heavily between them.
“Go,” Rhosyn said softly, her voice calm but encouraging. “We’ll see you later.”
Sorcha finally nodded, taking Kyron’s arm. His touch was warm but light, guiding her away from the group with an effortless grace that left no room for hesitation.
Eirin watched them leave, his fists balled tight. Drystan clapped him on the shoulder, his tone teasing but not unkind. “Cheer up, Eirin. There’s always tomorrow… or a duel, if it comes to that.”
Rhosyn shot Drystan a warning look but said nothing, instead shifting her attention to Emry and Riona, who stood quietly off to the side.
“You two were quiet,” Rhosyn said, addressing Emry and Riona.
Emry shrugged, his gaze lingering on Sorcha and Kyron as they disappeared into the crowd.
“Sometimes it’s better to observe than interfere,” he said simply, though there was a thoughtful edge to his voice.
Riona glanced up at him, her silver gown catching the light as she smiled faintly. “Wise words. Let’s just hope Kyron doesn’t make us regret it.”
As they walked, arms linked, Sorcha asked what he thought of the Light Festival.
Kyron replied with a soft smile, “I’ve been to this festival many times, and it never ceases to amaze me.” He then asked, “Have you been to any of the other festivals in the other realms?”
Sorcha blushed slightly and admitted, “No, I haven’t.”
Kyron clicked his tongue playfully and shook his head. “That’s a shame,” he said. “The festivals of Beltane, Imbolc, Yule, and Samhain are some of my favorites. Each has its own magic. You’d love them.” His tone was warm, almost teasing.
