SEVENTEEN #2
But that feels like a lifetime ago. So much has changed since then.
Kieran guides me easily through the first few steps, fluid as the wind itself, while I’m still adjusting to the weight of layered silk dragging at my legs.
I’m grateful to my father for all those dance lessons he gave me when I was a child.
The basics first. Small steps. Careful counts.
How to follow a lead without stepping on his toes.
Unless he asked me to dance on his feet.
Then he would lead me around the room, twirling until the room blurred around us.
I screamed with joy, clinging to his hands like the whole world narrowed down to that dizzying moment.
Later, when I was older and a little more coordinated, we would dance around the living room to songs he hummed from his days in service. My mother and I would take turns being his partner, laughing as we spun in uneven circles across the worn rugs.
Those were simpler days. Days when dancing was just dancing and the only audience I had to think about was my parents beaming at me from across the room.
Kieran’s gaze flicks to mine. He must catch the wistfulness on my face because he immediately steers me elsewhere.
“So,” he says lightly, “how are the good people of Volcaris treating you, Thalor?”
I snort, unable to stop the laugh that escapes me.
“Oh, you mean the ones who are either terrified of me, worshipping me, or trying to figure out how to use me for their own gain? They’re delightful.”
Kieran chuckles, guiding me through a turn with such effortless ease that I barely have to think about the steps at all.
“That sounds about right. Let me guess—the Warlord is handling them with his usual charm and grace?”
I shake my head, still laughing.
“Oh yes. His signature blend of barely concealed death glares and single-word answers is winning over the hearts of nobles everywhere.”
Kieran grins, spinning me smoothly back into step.
“Ah, yes. The Warlord’s diplomacy at its finest.”
I smile as he twirls me again, my skirts flaring out around us.
“You should see the way they flinch when he so much as exhales in their direction.”
Kieran shakes his head, feigning disappointment. “And yet, somehow, he’s still everyone’s favorite.”
I sigh with exaggerated despair. “I don’t understand it either.”
He grins. “And what about you? Do they flinch when you exhale?”
I tilt my head, pretending to seriously consider the question. “More like they flinch when I speak. Or sneeze. Or exist, really.”
Kieran huffs a laugh, his fingers pressing briefly against my back as he leans in slightly.
“Good. Keep them on their toes, Thalor.”
And then, I feel it.
The bond. A flicker. A shift. Not a pull. Not a push.
Just a presence.
Thane.
It’s not words. Not even an emotion I can fully name. Just the sensation of someone standing just behind you, close enough to feel but not touch.
He sees me.
Sees Kieran’s hand at my back, the way we move together, the way I’m laughing. And I feel it—the way something curls tight inside him.
Not anger or possession. Something sharp and restrained. Something that wasn’t there before. Maybe . . . jealousy?
It doesn’t press or demand. But gods help me, I feel it.
And worse—I don’t want it to stop.
A shiver rolls down my spine, desire stirring low through me.
Is he remembering the Summer Solstice too?
I feel him through the bond, and my body responds before my mind can catch up.
For a brief moment, I feel strangely disoriented. Because I’m standing in another man’s arms while every nerve in my body reacts to Thane.
I glance around the ballroom instinctively, searching. But I don’t see him. Not at the edges of the dance floor. Not in the clusters of nobles. Not anywhere.
And yet, I know. He’s watching. I can’t see him, but I feel him.
A ghost of heat beneath my skin. The faintest pull through the bond.
A small smile tugs at my lips.
Kieran notices immediately. His sharp eyes settle on mine, curiosity flickering briefly across his face. But he doesn’t ask. He simply holds my gaze for a moment longer before easing us back into the rhythm of the dance.
The ballroom still spins around us, music swelling through the gilded air, but when Kieran speaks again, everything else dulls slightly.
“Are you holding up, Thalor?” His tone is light, but not casual.
“Yeah,” I lie.
But really, all I can think about is later tonight, anticipation stirring low in my belly.
Kieran doesn’t press. Instead, he leans closer, his voice lowering as the dance carries us through the crowd.
“I know you can’t really tell us everything that happened down there,” he says quietly. “In the woods. In that passageway.”
He pauses just long enough for it to matter.
“But I need to ask you myself, and hear the answer from your lips—are you ok after all that?” The silver in his eyes fades beneath the blue as he waits for my answer.
I glance up at him, catching the rare edge of concern beneath his usual confidence. We haven’t had a chance to talk since the Hidden Passageway.
I give a curt nod. “I was fine then. I’m fine now.”
Kieran studies me for another moment.
I know he heard how quickly everything turned. How close we came to losing Lyra. The worm creature. The blood. The moment I thought it was already too late.
My fingers tighten slightly against his shoulder before I force them to relax.
“Lyra almost didn’t make it.”
His jaw tics once. “I know.”
I blink twice, forcing myself back into the present. “But I was able to heal her.”
Kieran guides me through another smooth turn. Then his chin tilts subtly toward the other side of the ballroom.
“Well, if I had any doubts about Lyra’s recovery, they’re gone now.”
I follow his gaze just as Garrick spins Lyra across the dance floor. She laughs, head tipped back, red hair catching the golden light as she moves like she was never on the brink of death just two days ago.
Relief loosens something tight inside me at the sight of her. So alive. So untouched by what almost happened.
And yet . . . something about it unsettles me.
Because it did happen. I felt her blood, warm and slick between my fingers. I saw the awful stillness creeping into her skin; the way her breath had already begun to falter.
She should be resting, recovering. At the very least feeling some lingering effects of nearly dying. But instead, she’s here.
Dancing. Laughing. Whole.
No other healer in recorded history—not one—has restored someone that completely in such little time. I hadn’t been thinking when it happened. I had only wanted, with everything in me, to save her.
And now Lyra moves like she was never at death’s edge to begin with. I should be grateful. I am. But beneath it, something quieter lingers. Something cold and impossible to ignore.
What did I do? What did I unlock?
Kieran hums thoughtfully beside me, blissfully unaware of the panic quietly building beneath my calm exterior.
“I knew you had some powerful magics, Thalor, but damn.” His mouth curves into a grin. “There’s definitely something extra in those hands of yours.”
I snort, shaking my head as I shove the unease back down.
“Oh, shut up.”
He grins wider, entirely unrepentant.
“No, really. If you ever want to test those miraculous healing hands on me, I’m more than willing to volunteer as tribute.”
I nudge him—harder than necessary.
“You’re insufferable.”
Kieran just laughs, utterly unbothered.
“And yet, here you are, still dancing with me.”
He scans my face, reading the things I’m carefully leaving unsaid. I have to fight the urge to look away. I swallow the guilt down anyway because that’s the cost of this role. I have to hide things from my friends.
Suddenly, Thane’s exhaustion makes a little more sense.
“And what about the passageway?” he presses.
Right.
The story.
I temper my expression carefully.
“It was a series of underground hideaways. We saw old runes, signs that people once hid there. It must have been a refuge for the Shadow Clan during the Shadow Wars.”
Kieran nods, considering that. “Makes sense. Though from what I heard, not much survived those wars.”
That’s the point.
I shrug, keeping my expression neutral.
“Not much did. But the passageways are real. And it seemed pretty clear they were meant to stay hidden.”
Kieran studies me for another brief moment, like he’s searching for cracks in my words.
I give him none.
Then, after a beat, he exhales through his nose. “And here I thought you were terrible at politics.”
I roll my eyes. “I am.”
He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Could’ve fooled me, Thalor.”
Guilt settles heavily inside me. I hate lying to him.
I need a break.
A break from the music, the crowd, the endless swirl of political maneuvering. A break from the way my own magics unsettle me.
I look up at Kieran.
“I think I need some air.”
He immediately steps back and sweeps into a low, unnecessarily dramatic bow. One hand presses to his chest while the other extends outward, as though he’s just been granted the greatest honor of his life.
“Thalor,” he says, his voice rich with mock reverence, “thank you for gracing me with a dance. It has been the highlight of my otherwise dull and meaningless existence.”
I snort, crossing my arms. “Dull and meaningless?”
He sighs deeply, as though carrying some terrible burden. “I fear no future dance shall ever compare to the divine experience I have just been given.”
I shove his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”
Kieran straightens with a grin, entirely unbothered. “Ridiculously charming, you mean.”
I roll my eyes, biting back a smile as I step away. Just as I turn, his voice follows me—low, warm, laced with mischief.
“Don’t be too long, Thalor. Someone’s got to keep these vultures in line.”
I glance back over my shoulder, catching the glint of blue-silver eyes and that familiar crooked grin.
Then I slip away from the crowd, the music, the chaos, and finally breathe.