“Is it broken?” someone asked.
“Who won?”
“I think it’s over!” another voice called.
A wave of groans followed. The bettors were especially displeased.
Collin and Dragonfly crossed the sand to meet their friends. Around them, the crowd had already begun to scatter. At the far end of the court, boys were setting up shooting targets.
“You better take him to the clinic,” Collin said, eyes on Aries’s swollen wrist.
“I know.” Hadria’s voice softened. She kissed Aries’s temple. “Come along, darling. I hope it’s not broken.”
The sandy court was overtaken almost immediately. Before Collin and the others could even step off the field, a group of eager knife throwers was already waving them aside.
Lekyi was the first to claim the space.
His North Town gold hair shimmered silver in the moonlight, and his smile—bright, easy, and unmistakably confident—drew cheers from a knot of girls near the sidelines. He threw with no hesitation. The blade sang through the air and struck dead center on the red mark.
Dragonfly clapped with delight, letting out a cheer that caught Collin’s ear more than the thud of the knife.
Next, Nic stepped up. Before throwing, he glanced toward Helen—sitting cross-legged with the oversized puppy in her lap, her gaze fixed on him like he’d hung the stars. Nic threw just as she blew him a kiss. The blade landed with a satisfying thunk, but he was already grinning at her, not the target.
Lekyi returned to the line, and he and Nic began working the crowd in tandem—flourishes, showy throws, exaggerated bows. Collin watched them for a moment, then turned to Dragonfly with a half-smile.
“Shall we check what’s left at the grill?”
But Dragonfly wasn’t listening.
Her eyes were fixed on Lekyi. He stood at the center of the court, and for a brief moment, they seemed to be mouthing something across the distance—a wordless exchange that ended as quickly as it began.
Then, without a word, she turned to Collin and lifted his wrist, checking the time on his watch.
“I should go,” she said. “My aunt nearly lost her mind the night of your coming of age.”
“May I walk with you?”
She shook her head, though her smile curled wickedly. “You stay. Have a bite. And then go humble those boastful boys, would you?”
Collin barely had time to nod before she was already moving, her hair catching the moonlight like silver thread. His heart thudded after her as she slipped through the clearing’s edge and vanished into the shadows of the trees.
But her smile—and the warmth of her fingers on his wrist—lingered long after she was gone.
The Breathless Hush
