I dip my head in agreement, and he moves for the reflection room.
“Wait!” I blurt, unsure if Moe and Stella are still in there. When he turns to face me, I stutter, “P-perhaps…not in there?”
Cyrus blinks. And I’m hoping he’s thinking I’m only proposing not to go in a room alone with him to prevent whatever affair occurred between us the last night we were together.
Even though maybe I’m wishing we would have another opportunity like it.
He nods. “Very well. A dance then, perhaps?”
He looks from my face down to his outstretched hand. I slide my fingertips between his. Wrapping his hand around mine, he guides me out onto the dance floor.
“May I hold you?” he asks once we are in the center. All other eyes falling upon us.
I nod, and he thoughtfully cups my waist with one hand. With the next swell of music, he leads us off into the rhythm. I glance down at my feet every so often, adamant notto step on him.
“Lyra, it’s alright if you step on me. You won’t hurt me,” he whispers. “Just look at me.”
With the softest inhale, I prepare myself to look him in the eyes. Then I look up. The gilded chandeliers and curved arches supporting the ceiling, swirl. His ethereal white eyes are the only thing constant. Fixed.
“What happened with Willow?” he asks quietly.
I look at our clasped hands instead. “Nothing, just…a disagreement that got out of hand.”
He tosses a look across the room to where she watches us. Then back to me. “Lyra,” he says so softly it makes my knees weak. “I thought, since the last time we were together…”
I snap my attention back to him at the mention of that night. His eyes are warm. I’m held in a gaze as gentle as his hands.
He shakes his head. “You said trust was a leap of faith. Why are you shutting me out now?”
I tilt my head, not willing to break our eye contact. How I’ve yearned for answers, or for closure, for that fleeting night of romance. There's been silence between us since. And all I’ve been able to wonder is if it was a mistake. A lapse in judgment. That I should be embarrassed I gave into it so easily. “You haven’t forgotten it…”
His eyebrows bunch together. “How could I have?”
Then his hand on my waist disappears as he guides me into a spin. Round and round I turn. The chandeliers, the women, the dining room, all a dazzling blur. When he slows me to a stop, he pulls me back into him. Closer now than ever.
Swallowing against the heat spreading in my face, I whisper. “I haven’t seen you since.”
“I’ve been advised not to—to give you some space. That I shouldn’t be trusted to be alone with you again. And I agree. There are parts of me, I wish…” He shakes his head and blows out a breath. “Parts of me that even I can’t trust.”
“It’s never been about trusting other people, has it?” I ask. “It’s yourself you’ve always feared.”
His eyes crinkle in thought, only flicking away from me for a moment before returning. He doesn’t need to say more for me to know I’m right.
Another realization that’s blown in on a wind settles over me, before seeping down into the cracks of my soul. Shifting and growing. Transforming.Perhaps it’s wrong of me to force him to trust me, or even harder—to trust himself. That’s something I can’t fix.
What parts of him have shaken his confidence, that he feels he can’t even trust himself? And if I were to tell him I’m a Seer, would that scare him off even more? That perhaps the two of us might not be the right match?
Because some part of me understands him. If I sit with my own truth, there are parts of me I don’t trust either.
“What’s wrong?” he whispers, not breaking eye contact. Those white eyes digging into me, searching for every secret. Every memory, every flaw and fear.
I swallow, unable to tear myself out of his gaze. “Nothing.”
He frowns. “I see it in your eyes. In the way your shoulders are tense.”
Immediately, I drop my shoulders. Unaware of the tension I held there until I let it go.
“It’s still there,” he mutters. “Tell me. What has you troubled?”
