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Colina’s gaze softens as she twirls in front of me, her laughter light and melodic.

“Have ye ever considered,” she begins, attempting to steer the conversation, “that ye’d be a good fit for someone like me? Ye’ve got a way about ye, Finn. I’m sure there are many women who’d be lucky to have ye, but none to service ye like I could.”

I hesitate, every instinct screaming at me to keep my distance. “Colina, ye’re a fine lass, but I—”

“—Have been too focused on Triona,” she finishes, her tone teasing yet insistent. “But she’s with Marcus now. What about ye? Ye want someone who appreciates ye, no?” She presses as tightly as she can, feigning seduction.

The warning bells in my mind grow. “I appreciate yer kindness, but I’m not lookin’ for that, at present,” I say, trying to sidestep her advances. “I’ve my own—”

“—issues to deal with, I ken.” She interrupts, stepping closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I could help ye with that, Finn. Just think of what we could accomplish together.”

I feel the heat rising in my chest from the tension. “Colina, really, I think you should—”

Before I finish, she leans up, attempting to kiss me, but I shift at the last moment. Her lips brush my cheek instead, and I can see the flush creeping up her face, mingling with satisfaction.

“Colina, I—” I begin, but the urgency in her gaze makes me wary. She isn’t giving up easily, and the realisation settles heavily in my stomach.

“Just tell me what ye want,” she presses, her voice low and sultry. “I can be what ye need. I can be better for ye than she ever could. I’d satisfy all yer needs.”

I take a step back, creating a space between us. “I can see ye’ve been drinking, which explains a lot of this.” I say, gesturing between the two of us with a finger. “I’m not interested in marriage with anyone, includin’ Triona.”

That lie feels like ash on my tongue.

“She’s like family, and ye’re mistaken.” The words, a shield, but the way Colina’s eyes narrow, suggests she won’t relent.

“Look, come to me tomorrow, and we’ll talk then. Not around pryin’ eyes and listenin’ ears. Let’s discuss this alone, just you and I.”

Her face lights up, her eyes alight with triumph. “Ye feel it too, then?” she whispers, voice dripping with a relieved sort of victory, as short-lived as it may be.

Refraining from an outright lie or deception, I keep firm. “Tomorrow, Colina.”

“Tomorrow, then. Just the two of us.”

Keeping the ruse, I commit to another dance or two.

The music shifts, laughter rises, and just as I start to drift toward the edge of the crowd, James, already a few drinks deep, claps a hand on Triona’s shoulder.

“Sing for us, lass!” he shouts, eyes bright with excitement.

Triona moves from Marcus’s hold, catching her breath, and glances at Casey and Bran, who nod enthusiastically. “Ériu’s Promise,” she calls out, earning cheers from the crowd.

Colina reluctantly steps away to listen, her fingers trailing down my arm in a lingering caress. I suppress a shudder at the unwelcomed touch.

Triona closes her bewitching eyes, letting the lilting melody of the old song wrap around her voice, delicate and haunting, her words carrying the weight of promises made in love and sorrow. My gaze softens as I watch her, chest tightening with emotions I don’t want to acknowledge. Her voice is that of a siren’s call, goading gooseflesh along the surface.

The last note of the song fades, and James breaks into a raucous cheer.

The music surges, the temporising, and within seconds, Marcus finds Triona’s waist—his hands returning to their favoured place of the night. The ceilidh reaches a fever pitch.

A circle forms once more, the musicians driving the rhythm faster; the cadence climbing with each passing second. Feet pound against the cold ground, matching the heartbeat of the tune. Couples spin, faster and faster, skirts flaring, hands clasping and releasing as bodies weave through the dance in a dizzying, breathless blur.

I catch sight of Triona as Marcus spins her, the two of them moving as one. The music fades into a distant hum as I watch Marcus pull Triona from the crowded circle of dancers, his grip firm on her wrist.

I feel a dull ache settling deep in my chest, twisting with something I can’t push away. I finally lose the will to stand idle in the madness. Looking away, I catch Bran’s eyes, a single question swimming in their depths, as if he, too, can feel the weight of this burden I carry.

I stare down at Colina with obvious distress on my face. She frowns as she attempts to lift a hand to my cheek. “What-”

“I… I need a moment.”