Kaelen turned to her, extending his hand with a roguish tilt of his head. “Shall we show them how it’s done, Sáel?”
She smiled and placed her hand in his. Around them, the court watched in hushed anticipation. The air shimmered with interest and expectation, as if even the walls of the palace held their breath.
He swept her onto the floor. His golden attire burned bright against her gown’s constellations, their steps weaving a celestial waltz—sunlight guiding the stars across the heavens. He moved with hissignature grace, twirling her, dipping her just enough to make her heart skip a beat; his smile a whispered promise of mischief.
Then, as seamlessly as the tide yielded to the moon, Alarik stepped forward to claim his turn. The air around them shifted, cooled—midnight calm after Kaelen’s golden blaze. His touch was quieter, steadier, a gravity anchoring her in place. Where his brother had been fire, he was shadow and silk, silver mask glinting as he pulled her into a slower, deeper rhythm.
With Kaelen, she soared. With Alarik, she was weightless, moving through the dark like a comet pulled by unseen forces.
Sun and moon. Fire and shadow. Utterlyhers.
Afterward, a procession of noblemen lined up, each eager for a turn with the future Tazahrina of Asadia. Reiya met them with effortless ease, her movements graceful, her expression smiling but unreadable behind her mask.
Yet, even as she danced, her senses remained keen. Watching. Listening.
As the final notes of the current dance lingered in the air, she curtsied, murmured her thanks to her partner, and stepped away.
Then, a hand, gloved in black, slipped into her path—smooth, and impossible to ignore.
Her steps faltered. Pulse skipping, a sharp hitch in the steady rhythm of the night. She stared at the outstretched hand, her mind racing to catch up.
She didn’t need to hear his voice.
She alreadyknew.
The familiar tilt of his head, the elegant posture honed through years of Vaelmont courtly training—it could only behim. His mask covered the upper half of his face, but his copper waves remained unmistakable. He was dressed in black from head to toe except for the gold filigree that outlined his mask, and the glittering powder dusting his boots.
His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.
“Surrounded by sea or desert, you remain the brightest star, dove,” he said. His voice was amicable, yet there was a tension beneath it, coiled and waiting. “May I have this dance, Tazahrina?”
Her future title sounded like a mockery on his tongue. For a heartbeat, she hesitated, every muscle taut. Then, she nodded and pulled her shoulders back, joining him not as the uncertain girl he once knew, but as the woman she’d become.
“Of course, Lord Castiel.”
His eyes flickered behind his mask. He stepped closer, gloved hand slipping into hers, the other resting lightly against her waist. The contact sent a ripple of memories surging to the surface—echoes of a dance beneath Aethonia’s chandeliers, when she’d been wrapped in the safety of their shared history.
But this was not Aethonia, and she was no longer his dove.
Their movements fell into perfect sync, as they always had. But this time, she led as much as she followed—her steps precise, her gaze steady. The music swelled around them, lilting and bright, but to Reiya, the only sound in the room was the twang of tension between her and Castiel.
She broke the silence first. “You’ve gone through quite the trouble to find me. Or was this just a stroke of luck?”
“Luck?” His smile was slow, measured. “Hardly, dove. You’ve left breadcrumbs every step of the way—Aethonian braided bracelets, Tidebinder’s knots. Not precisely the marks of someone trying to stay hidden.”
So he’d found them—the bracelets she’d crafted and sold throughout the trading posts along the Great Salt Road. Reiya’s pulse quickened, but she kept her expression carefully neutral.
“A trail you followed to kill Jodhar?”
Castiel’s hand tightened slightly on her waist—a subtle gesture, but one she didn’t miss. His smile widened. “Sharp girl. Yes, that was me. Consider it a favour. He was a waste of breath, wasn’t he? Must be a relief that he’s gone.”
Her stomach churned. “You think you did me a favour by killing him?”
“Didn’t I?” His gaze flicked to hers, daring her to deny it. “Jodhar was a violent brute who made your life harder than it needed to be. I simply removed the obstacle. Don’t tell me you’re mourning him now, dove?”
She didn’t take the bait, though her heart beat hard against her ribs. “What you did wasn’t for me. Don’t pretend it was anything more.”
His smirk softened, his tone dropping to something closer to mock sincerity. “Oh? What was it, then?”
