Once all had been served, a bell rang.
I ate ravenously, any lingering anxiety dissolving beneath hunger and warmth.
I had been the first served and was the first to finish. As I looked around the vast hall, I couldn’t tell if it was the fullness in my stomach or the warmth of my welcome, but something settled inside me.
I felt as though I belonged.
No chains. No imminent danger. No need to run.
Only acceptance.
Music began somewhere to my left, strings, drums, and layered voices weaving together into something that warmedme to my bones. The hall erupted into rhythmic clapping, and drinks were passed from hand to hand. Though no one said it outright, I could tell my arrival had sparked the celebration.
Daemon, seated to my right, began to relax as well.
Then honey wine was poured.
I took a cautious sip, surprised at how faint the alcohol tasted. Sweet and smooth, almost harmless. I assumed it was a dessert wine with little strength.
Daemon’s expression told me he shared my assumption.
I lifted my cup toward him. He held my gaze as our cups clinked softly together.
It was the first of many.
Before long, my cup was empty, and refilled the moment it touched the table. The liquid tasted of honey and sunlight, warmth spreading through my limbs and loosening tension I hadn’t realized I still carried.
I downed the next cup in a single swallow, letting music and laughter wash over me.
Time began to blur.
I ate and drank until my stomach ached. Then I drank more. I drank until the edges of reality softened into something gentle and forgiving. A distant part of me realized I had misjudged the wine’s strength.
I didn’t care.
I rose from my seat and joined the crowd of dancing Fae. The central tables had been pushed aside, clearing space for spinning bodies and linked arms. They danced without fear, without regard for the darkness that waited beyond Vaelthorne’s borders.
The celebration stretched deep into the night, slowly tapering into softer laughter and lingering embraces. Farewells came in waves, kisses pressed to cheeks, warm hugs, phrasesspoken in the old tongue that the wine somehow allowed me to understand.
Eventually, most had gone.
I pushed myself to my feet, intending to help clear the tables.
The world tilted sharply to the side.
Daemon’s hands caught my elbow before I could fall. The scent of him, leather, steel, and something undeniably him, cut through the haze clouding my mind.
I had definitely been wrong about the alcohol.
“Careful,” he murmured.
I blinked up at him, secretly hoping he would hold me tighter. “M’fine.”
“You’re too drunk to be fine.”
“Maybe.” I attempted to steady myself and immediately proved him right. “It’s your fault. You weren’t watching.”
Something flickered across his expression, something that mirrored the warmth spreading through my chest.
