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His kiss is anything but soft as he draws me farther into him and lays claim to my mouth like a man starved. There’s a hunger in the way his lips move against mine, a desperation that awakens a similar heated craving deep within me.

My hands press against his chest, but not to push him away.

Not this time.

Instead, my fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, clutching at him like he’s the only solid thing in a world suddenly set spinning. Every piece of my composure crumbles beneath him, scattering like fragile glass. The rhythm of his breathing tangles with mine, and the heat between us grows, overwhelming and all-consuming—

A sharp rap punches through the haze. I barely have time to register it before Kato’s voice follows, muffled but unmistakable, sliding through the wood with no consideration for what he interrupted.

“If you’re both done rediscovering your priorities,” he drawls, amusement woven into his otherwise pointed tone, “our escort has arrived.”

I instinctively recoil, breathless and unmoored.

Lyxander’s hand shoots out, cradling the back of my head before it collides with the glass behind me. His eyes glow as they hold mine, a pull so intense it threatens to overpower me once again. Slowly, his hand slides down, his fingers skating along the column of my neck until they find the chain of gilded feathers beneath my tunic. He tugs, and the necklace slips free, the small quills catching pale starlight as they sway between us. Then he reaches into his pocket and draws out a feather—long, white, and luminous as frost.

“You—” The word splinters in my mouth. “But you gave one to Solenne?”

“Always assuming.” He drags the tip of the quill down my throat, and I’m helpless to the shiver that follows. “She offered one to me. I turned it down.”

“But it was white.”

“And what color are her wings?”

Such a pale silver they’re almost white.

I stifle a groan, tempted to pull my gaze away, but I’m transfixed as Lyxander clips the feather to my chain. Heat blooms where metal meets plume; the bead warms, then gilds the white to gold.

“I thought they were only gifted on Aethernight,” I whisper, still gazing down, as if looking away might make it vanish.

“There is no rule, no custom, no fate I would not bend or break for you, Stormwind.” His fingers find my chin, tilting my face to his. Lightning lives in his eyes as he watches the promise settle. “Not one.”

I untangle myself from his hold, too tempted by his expression. By his words.

“We’ll discuss this later,” I say. Whether it’s a promise to him or a reminder to myself, I can’t quite tell—but the conversation isn’t over.

I stoop to pick up the charmed cuff I dropped earlier. The metal is cool against my palm, chasing away some of the heat still coursing through me. It tingles as I snap it back around my wrist; the familiar sensation settles over my skin, darkening my eyes, tinting my hair, shifting the small architecture of my face until I am no one important again. A handmaid, a shadow.

Lyxander and I leave the room without touching.

As we approach the sitting room, the easy murmur of conversation that preceded our return comes to a sudden halt.

An Acolyte stands to the side of the space, hands folded neatly. White robes shroud a form slightly taller than I, shoulders straight, hair entirely concealed beneath an unremarkable hood.

“Guests of the North.” The Acolyte makes a small, precise bow. “I am Sister Irene. I have been assigned as your guide for the duration of the Games.”

Her voice is rich and rolling, hinting that she was raised in Reveza before surrendering her life to worship. I take a moment to examine the woman in front of me: her stance, the way her robe lies (no extra weight at the hem), the demure bow of her head that conceals her face behind the shadow cast by her hood. Similar height. Similar build.

Fate has been kind for a change.

“Thank you, again, Sister,” Xerxes replies, and I get the impression she’s already delivered these words to them. “We’re grateful for your time and hospitality.”

“Of course.” She inclines her head once more. “The bell will sound shortly for the welcoming banquet to commence. If you’ll follow me, I’ll escort you.”

I step forward. “Sister.”

“Yes?”

“You’ll be assigned to us the whole time?”