Page 157 of The Edge of Darkness

Niall laughed and summoned another empty glass, handing it to me. Then, he brought forth the bottle, pouring a serving and giving me a wink. “I have plenty.”

A deep male voice cut in from behind me. “If this is some sort of drinking game, let me offer you some advice: you have to actually drink what’s in the cup, not just stare at it.”

I turned to find Roirdan gesturing to Nivelle and me as we inspected our beverages. Vanir stood at his side, both of them holding glasses of an amber-colored liquid, like what Niall was drinking.

Nivelle rolled her eyes at the commander’s attempt at humor, and he noted it. He leaned forward. “Do witches even have alcohol on Neveshir?”

“What is alcohol?” she asked.

“It’s what you’re drinking . . .” he deadpanned.

Instantly annoyed, she turned up her nose and ignored him.

“You do know it’s an intoxicant, right?” he pressed. “You drink enough of it and all your inhibitions will leave your body and you won’t have a care in the world.”

She looked up at him, almost as if something he’d said intrigued her, but she was too stubborn to let him gloat over knowing more than her. Rather than give him the satisfaction of a retort, she tossed back the rest of her drink, swallowing every drop, and flashed him a smile that was all teeth before dropping the glass to the grass and sauntering off to the other side of the clearing.

I shook my head. “You’re going to have to work on your social skills, Roirdan.”

“If she wasn’t wound so damn tight all the time . . .” He lifted his cup to his lips and sipped, then let out a loud exhale as if the liquid burned as it went down. “Guess that blows my chance at asking her to dance, huh?”

I swung my gaze to him and was surprised to find the way in which he was watching Nivelle. It looked as if he was truly disappointed to see her go.

A question was poised on the tip of my tongue, but a flash of light drew my attention upward. Lightning licked its way across the sky, and thunder followed.

“Damn these storms,” Niall said.

Vanir nodded to the other side of the glade, where Laurent was. “Good thing you have a friend who can help with that.”

Another flash lit up the forest, and Drastia’s High Lord seemed to sense Niall’s tension. They locked eyes, an unspoken question passing between them. I knew then that Niall had spoken into his mind, because Laurent immediately paused his dancing, pressed his wrists together—palms open to the sky—and sent a beam of energy straight up into it. The beam spread through the clouds, illuminating them from within and scattering them to the wind like smoke from a snuffed-out candle.

He had eradicated the storm.

“That’s handy,” I said.

“Very much so,” Vanir agreed. “The power to influence the elements is often underestimated.”

Niall slid his arm around my waist. “And I hear that tonight is a night to be particularly thankful for Laurent’s gift.”

“Why is that?” I asked, tilting my glass and finishing the drink.

“You’ll see. Now, give me this.” He took my empty glass, and it disappeared in his hand.

The fiddles drew a strong tune that was quickly building and calling everyone out into the glade to dance. Taking my hands, Niall tugged me into the open and spun me into a loose embrace.

“What sort of dance is this?” I asked, laughing as I tried to anticipate his next movements.

“I have no idea!” he said, letting out a laugh of his own as he swung me around in a fast-paced step that made no sense. “You forget, I didn’t dance much before you came along.”

His smile . . . I had never seen him smile like this—fully and unrestrained. It was different from the smile he’d given me at our mating ceremony. His eyes burned golden, creasing at the corners.

Time seemed to slow around me as I stared at him, smiling and laughing as we bounded back and forth through the throng of dancers, swinging around the other couples, colliding elbows with some, and laughing even more because of it. A sting prickled my eyes as I watched him. His voice, that laugh, the pieces of his hair that broke free and bounced over his forehead as he glanced over his shoulder to guide us . . .

This was my husband—my mate. And I was the luckiest woman in the world to call him mine.

I didn’t want the song to end. I wanted to get lost in this moment, never ceasing to dance, never looking away from his gaze. I could listen to his laughter continuously. I could happily fade from this world as long as I was witnessing that devastatingly handsome smile.

The song finally slowed, and so did we. Our chests rose and fell as we gathered our breaths, grasping onto each other and grinning like idiots. Then, a boom rocked the atmosphere, and the sky illuminated once more, drawing everyone’s gaze upward.