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My heart trips over itself, wildly out of sync with the slow cadence of the music. “You do?”

“I do.” He huffs a quiet laugh through his nose. “I’ve known Riven since we were younglings, and ever since you’ve come into his life, he’s been… different.”

My throat suddenly dries. “Different how?”

“Happier.”

“Being surrounded by nearly a dozen stunning creatures all fawning over him would do wonders for anyone’s ego,” I say, sharper than I mean to.

He gives me a flat look. “Are you really going to stand there and tell me you don’t have feelings for him?”

My stomach twists. I look away, jaw tight, but he presses on.

“Gwyn, your scents are so entwined, I can barely tell them apart. I lost track of Riven in the throng earlier, and when I followed his scent, I found you watching him dance with Maybelline.”

“Her name is Miriya,” I snap. “Don’t be rude.”

“Her name doesn’t matter. She’s not the bride Riven’s going to choose.”

He says it so offhandedly, so carelessly, like Miriya isn’t offering her whole heart to his king.

I grind my heel down on his foot.

He grunts. “Really?”

“Oops.”

He exhales hard. “I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just— You must know Riven’s going to choose⁠—”

“Mind if I cut in?” asks Riven, tone clipped.

Every hair on my body rises as the scent of eucalyptus and juniper hits me all at once, sharp and intoxicating.

Arkyn steps back, bowing slightly. “Of course, Riv. She’s all yours.”

“I know that already,” Riven says, voice like velvet.

His gaze finds mine—hungry, smoldering, unapologetically possessive.

His hands go straight for my hips, tugging me close to him, engulfing my entire body in flames.

The music shifts—no longer slow and romantic, but fast, infectious, impossible not to chase. It demands light feet and quick steps, no time for lingering touches or quiet conversations. Yet Riven somehow manages both. He never lets go of me, and his eyes… those deep blue eyes, they say everything his lips will not.

I wanted my first dance to be with you.

The sight of Arkyn touching you made me feel sick to my stomach.

The line we drew is blurred for me too, little witch.

Heat curls low in my belly.

He spins me around, and I catch Miriya’s gaze.

Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears.

But she’s smiling. At me. At Riven. At us.

Then I’m swept away again—lifted, spun, caught in Riven’s arms and held like I’m something precious.