And yet beneath the revelry, something prickles at my awareness. A shift in the air, a quiet disturbance.
Out of habit, my gaze sweeps the edges of the room, beyond the laughter, beyond the bodies twirling in the firelight.
That’s when I see them, two men I don’t recognize, standing near the farthest table, their drinks untouched. They aren’t watching the dancers. They’re watching me. One of them has a milky eye that seems to look right through my soul.
For a fleeting moment, unease coils in my stomach, but I push it aside. Of course there are people who don’t want me here. Who wish I had disappeared with the rest of the cursed.
There will always be those who look at me and see something that needs to be removed. But they can glare all they want. I won’t let them steal this moment from me.
I turn away, lifting my chin as if daring them to keep staring. Then I let the music swallow me again.
An arm wraps around my waist, and a young, beautiful man comes into view, his face so close to mine that my body stiffens. Even through the hazy bliss of consumed wine, my instincts react, rejecting the unwanted closeness. I push away, harshly.
The man lets go with an apologetic bow but doesn’t move away.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to offend you. The crowd is getting tighter, as everyone seems to wish to steal a dance next to our future Archpriestess. And I was daring enough to hope for one myself.”
I glance at the many pairs holding each other, men hurling women into the air, women laughing and asking for more.
It’s a stark contrast to the way unmarried men and women of noble birth hold themselves. They’re not only forbidden from touching but also from being alone without a duenna present.
The only time I ever danced was with Ryker, stiffly, at arm’s length, under my duenna’s watchful eyes. But every time I’ve come here, I’ve watched others on the floor and wondered what it would feel like… to be touched like that. To be swayed, held, wanted.
So what do I have to lose? If the other Champions have their way, this might be my last chance to enjoy anything at all. So I will.
I’ll let myself feel it—fully, selfishly. Just this once.
“And your boldness shall be rewarded,” I say with a smirk, offering my hand, curious to see just how far his courage will carry him.
The moment our fingers touch, I realize I’m not breathing. If the rot takes him, I think I have enough Blood magic in me from the meadow to heal him instantaneously.
A second passes. Then another. Still nothing, no rot ruins his skin.
And only then do I let out a slow, shaky exhale.
He flashes a perfect smile, the kind I’m sure has made many young girls consider whether Crimson Tether is worth tasting his lips.
Accepting the challenge, he not only takes my hand but presses his lips to it, his deep brown eyes never leaving mine. “It would be my honor.”
And then he pulls me into the frenzy of the dance.
I don’t know the steps. But tonight? Tonight, I’ll dance like it’s my last day.
The man twirls and tosses me, catching me one way and another. My white hair, streaked with red, flies into his face, and we laugh and laugh and laugh. The world is movement, heat, and sound, sweeping me along in its rhythm.
Until it isn’t.
A ripple of energy disturbs the air behind me, like the first stir of a storm in the distance. It’s subtle at first, barely more than a breath of cold cutting through the heat of bodies, the firelight, the liquor in my veins.
Then it settles. Stays.
I know who it is. I don’t need to turn around, don’t need to see him standing there like a monument to my every misstep.
I tell myself it’s bothersome. That it’s suffocating to be under his watch, to know he’s just standing there, unmoving, ever-present. That if he disapproves, if my joy grates against whatever grim philosophy he lives by, then I should make it worse.
So I do.
I throw my head back and let my smile stretch wider. I spin, deliberately reckless, my fingers grazing the man’s hard chest as I catch my balance. His hands steady on my waist, warm and eager, and I don’t pull away. I let him linger, let my laughter ring out and my body sway as if I don’t feel the cold thread of Kaelzar’s gaze stitched into my skin.
