But at the last possible second, she spread her wings, catching air and avoiding impact.
The entire city roared with cheers for Aurelius, chanting his name proudly. The guests at the feast applauded in amazement. Zephyros climbed back into the sky until they were only slightly above us in elevation. Then she barrel-rolled toward the balcony and swooped overhead, upside down. A ripple of startled gasps moved through the guests as Zephyros passed in breathtaking proximity, the downdraft from her powerful wings tugging at hair and hems. In one seamless arc Aurelius hung from his saddle and let a single red rose fall from his hand, right above me.
I reached for it, just grazing the tips of his fingers with mine as I clasped the thornless stem. His silver hair fell around us like a curtain for a flash-second of privacy. The display was elegant. Controlled. And entirely intentional. A public claim wrapped in dragon authority. And Titus saw every second of it.
Then Zephyros turned on a dime and flew away from the castle in seconds.
The guests erupted with cheers and awe for the unexpected stunt. Titus sat unamused, sipping from his goblet.
This was Aurelius’s night. He probably didn’t have many opportunities to outshine the High Lord, and tonight he was nothing short of amazing.
The show concluded with Draxxinar filling the night sky with a wall of fire and the entire dragon army flying out of the flames.
Thousands of mounted dragons pierced the blazing curtain, then dove toward the ground to land—simulating a waterfall of flying dragons.
Calpurnia gushed over Aurelius’s romantic stunt, and I noticed Cercies studying her closely. I twirled the rose between my fingertips, admiring it, when I caught Prisca’s rageful eyes fixated on me.
My heart stopped. I felt as if I’d swallowed my tongue.
Two orbs of molten hate seared my soul and sent a burning chill of fear down my spine. The gold goblet in her hand turned bright orange; the wine bubbled and steamed. She slammed her cup on the table, excused herself, and stormed off.
Thank God she left.
I exhaled, tension easing from my chest. I’d always been cautious of Prisca, but never terrified. Her demeanor was usually that of a whiny princess throwing tantrums and bickering with her brother. But after that look, I realized I might have misjudged how much darkness she truly held inside.
After overhearing her and Aurelius’s conversation that day, I’d put together they had some kind of history. I didn’t know if he’d ever reciprocated her feelings, but it was obvious she still held a candle for the Master of Dragons. If she was jealous, she didn’t need to be. I would be leaving soon—back to my realm, to my husband—no matter how much I enjoyed the friends I’d made here.
The musicians began to play a somber melody, and guests took to the dance floor. Cercies beelined for his mate and asked her to dance. Unable to conceal her excitement, she practically jumped into his arms, and they joined the rest of the couples on the candlelit floor. She appeared to have forgiven him, and with that unspoken understanding, we let the earlier tension dissolve into the grandeur of the night. The hundreds of candles had been burning for hours, yet hadn’t spilled a single drop of wax.
I observed the new mates and couldn’t help but smirk. Cercies clearly had no idea how to dance, but he made a good show of it. And Calpurnia—she glowed brighter than the sun.
I knew their future wasn’t clear, that there was a lot for them to work out and discuss, but tonight they could soak in each other and blissfully ignore the hindrances of the society they lived in. Rules and laws could wait because tonight was just for them.
The applause from the SkyGuard demonstration still lingered in the night air as the feast began to dissolve into smaller conversations across the castle balcony. Lanterns flickered against the polished stone, and below us the kingdom shimmered in scattered amber light.
I stood near the edge, watching the last embers fade into the dark sky when a presence stepped beside me.
“Lady Delilah.”
The voice was smooth and calculating.
I turned to find a tall Fire Fae male cloaked in a long crimson robe that pooled around his boots like spilled blood. Silver streaked his dark hair at the temples, and his amber eyes were sharp assessing.
“I am Caddver,” he said with a shallow bow. “Head of the Temple’s Council.”
So this was the head of the council that created those disgusting Holy Laws that carved into women’s bodies like they were property. My guard instantly went up.
When he smiled, my stomach tightened.
His teeth were yellowed and uneven. His gums were black and his smile never reached his eyes.
“It was a remarkable display,” he continued, gesturing toward the sky.
“Our High Lord enjoys reminding the realm of his power.”
There was something coiled behind his smile, something that felt like quiet plotting, and I knew better than to give him anything he could use against me, Titus, or my mission to return home.
“He doesn’t seem the type to need reminders,” I replied evenly.
