Page 251 of House Ignis

Ezra was holding himself together by sheer force of will.

His knuckles were bone-white, and his jaw was tight enough to crack stone.

Then, he smiled. Walls.

Fucking Umbra males and their impenetrable masks.

“You’re both about to set Zymarra on fire,” he said lightly, stepping further into the room.

He bowed toward me first, offering his hand with an exaggerated, courtly elegance. “Your Majesty.”

“You are honestly the worst,” I muttered—but I took his hand anyway, a grin tugging at my lips despite the tension.

He winked at me, his familiar mischief returning.

Then he turned to Ember. Slower. More careful. His gaze swept over her again, his pupils blown wide as he memorized every inch of her in the green silk.

“Milady,” he said quietly, offering his hand.

He looked like he fully expected her to bite him.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

The air in the room felt thick enough to choke on, charged with a week's worth of unspoken words and that heavy confession.

Then Ember smiled. And she took his hand.

Ezra’s grin broke wide and reckless, his dimples cutting deep into his freckled cheeks.

“Gods,” he laughed softly, his voice thick with relief. “Am I not one lucky fucking male.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The city of Solkaris had never looked like this.

Flames danced from every lantern, spilling down the avenues in molten cascades of crimson and gold.

Fire-dancers spun through the streets like living comets, their limbs trailing sparks as drums thundered and flutes shrieked in wild, rhythmic celebration.

The air was thick with heat, smoke, and sweetness—roasted meats turning over open pits, spiced wines warming in copper cups, and moon cherry fritters dusted in sugar that glittered like fallen ash.

Laughter rolled through the city in waves so loud it seemed to shake the very foundations beneath my boots.

This was Ignis’s night.

Zymarra’s veins burned with pure fire.

Ember gleamed beside me, radiant and alive in a way only this festival could ever make her.

Every year she and Jax had dragged me into chaos, laughing until their lungs burned, acting like the world could never touch us.

The memory hit me with the force of a physical blow.

Grief didn’t arrive gently; it flooded.

I stopped walking in the middle of the crowded street, the air suddenly feeling too thin to breathe.

People flowed around me like water breaking around a stone, their joy a blurred, noisy contrast to the sudden stillness in my chest.