"He has his reasons, I'm sure."
"Oh, certainly. My brother has reasons for everything." Silas clasped his hands behind his back, surveying the clearing as if cataloging its contents. "He sent me ahead, by the way. Some small crisis at the vineyard—a supplier issue, I believe. He asked that I extend his apologies and keep you company until he arrives."
Relief and disappointment warred in her chest. He wasn't standing her up—that was good. But she'd been looking forward to this evening alone with him, and the presence of this unexpected brother had shifted everything off-balance.
"That's… thoughtful of him," she managed.
"Thallos can be thoughtful when it suits him." Silas turned those dark eyes on her, his gaze assessing in a way that made her skin prickle. "Though I suspect his motivations aren't entirely selfless. He speaks very highly of you."
"He does?"
"Quite highly." Another step closer. "The pretty florist who's captured my brother's attention. I confess I was curious. Thallos's taste in companions has been somewhat… inconsistent in the past."
The implication was clear. You're one in a long line. Nothing special.
Rachel's voice in the coffee shop.All those women who fall for Thallos…
She straightened her spine. She wasn't going to let this stranger—brother or not—rattle her.
"Well," she said coolly, "I suppose you'll have to draw your own conclusions."
Something flickered in Silas's expression. Surprise, maybe. Or recalculation. "Spirit. Good. You'll need that."
Before she could ask what that meant, he changed the subject entirely.
"Thallos mentioned you're learning the traditional opening dance for the festival."
"He's been teaching me, yes."
"Then perhaps I can be of assistance while we wait." Silas held out his hand, palm up, in obvious invitation. "Dancing with multiple partners is the best way to improve one's skills. Different heights, different rhythms—it forces you to adapt rather than simply following by rote."
She hesitated. Everything about this felt wrong. The unexplained brother. The convenient excuse for Thallos's absence. The too-smooth offer to "help."
But she couldn't articulate why she should refuse. He was Thallos's brother. He claimed Thallos had sent him. And his reasoning about dancing with different partners wasn't illogical—she'd heard the same advice about learning to lead and follow in any partner dance.
Maybe she was being paranoid. Maybe all her years of dealing with Daisy's drama had left her seeing manipulation everywhere.
"All right," she said slowly. "One dance."
His smile widened. "Excellent."
He took her hand and drew her toward the center of the clearing, positioning them in the standard hold she'd learned with Thallos. But where Thallos's embrace felt like coming home, Silas's grip was… wrong. His hands were in the correct places—one at her waist, one clasping her fingers—but the pressure was different. Controlling rather than guiding.
"Ready?"
She nodded, and they began to move.
There was no music, of course. But the grove itself seemed to provide a rhythm—the rustle of leaves, the chirp of crickets, the distant call of a night bird. Silas led her through the familiar steps, his movements precise and technically flawless.
And utterly devoid of warmth.
Dancing with Thallos felt like flying. Like being carried on a current of joy and desire and something deeper that she didn't have words for. Dancing with Silas felt like being steered. A tool being operated by a skilled hand.
"You're tense," he observed.
"I'm concentrating."
"Mm." His hand shifted slightly at her waist, fingers pressing more firmly into the curve of her hip. "Thallos always did prefer his partners compliant. It must be refreshing for him, having someone who actually pushes back."
