Chapter 37 #2
A collective groan rose from several students, but Thendrick was already standing, offering his hand to Nareen with exaggerated courtliness.
“Instructor Nareen, would you honor me?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “If you step on my feet, mystic or not, I’m throwing you across the room.”
“Fear not,” he said cheerfully, leading her to the cleared space where the enchanted snow still fell without landing.
Music swelled from nowhere, or everywhere, filling the hall with a melody that was both ancient and immediate. Thendrick and Nareen moved with surprising grace, his flowing style somehow complementing her precise steps.
“Come on,” Mira grabbed Edwin’s hand. “Before all the good space is taken!”
Soon half the table had emptied onto the makeshift dance floor. Dania was coaxed up by Fenn, who promised not to let her embarrass herself. Even some of the third-years paired off, laughing as they tried to remember the steps to dances they’d learned years ago.
Cassara remained seated, watching. Unlike her claims during the ice skating debacle, she could dance, had been taught all the formal court dances since childhood. It made her no more eager to participate.
“Not joining?” Gideon asked. He’d stayed in his seat too, though she’d noticed him refuse two invitations already.
“I told you,” she said, taking a sip of wine. “I’m terrible at dancing.”
His mouth curved. “Liar.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve seen the way you move through combat forms. You scaled a failing airship. You learned to ice skate in a single afternoon.” He tilted his head, studying her. “There’s no way you can’t dance.”
“Those are different.”
“How?”
“They have…” She searched for the words. “Purpose. Dancing is just—”
“Joy?” he suggested. “Fun? Expression without agenda?”
“Exactly. Pointless.”
“Ah.” He nodded sagely. “And Cassara Allencourt doesn’t do pointless.”
“Now you’re learning.”
They sat in comfortable silence, watching Thendrick spin Nareen in a move that should have looked ridiculous but somehow didn’t. The music shifted, becoming something slower, sweeter.
“What if,” Gideon said carefully, “it wasn’t pointless?”
She glanced at him. “Meaning?”
“Well, we’ve already weathered ice skating. This can’t be worse.” He stood, offering his hand with a slight bow that was only half-mocking. “For the sake of comparison. Purely academic.”
“Academic,” she repeated.
“Think of it as research. Cultural anthropology.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Probably.” But his hand remained extended, and there was something in his eyes that made her pulse skip. “One dance. You can critique my form the entire time if it helps.”
She looked at his hand, steady, patient, familiar now from all the times he’d caught her on the ice. The warmth from his kiss still lingered on her cheek, mixing with guilt and want and the echo of Auren’s absence.
One dance. What harm could one dance do?
“Fine,” she said, placing her hand in his. “But only because I’m curious if you’re as insufferably competent at this as everything else.”
His fingers closed around hers, warm and sure. “Only one way to find out.”
He led her to the dance floor, finding space between the other couples. The enchanted snow swirled around them, never quite touching, and the music wrapped them in its ancient melody.
“So,” he said, settling one hand at her waist while keeping the other in hers. “Going to admit you know exactly how to do this?”
“I have no idea what you mean.” But her body betrayed her, falling into position with practiced ease.
“Of course not.” He guided her into the first steps, and she moved with him instinctively. “This must be natural talent.”
“Must be.”
They moved together, finding their rhythm within heartbeats. He was good, of course he was, leading without forcing, matching her pace perfectly. But there was something else, something that had nothing to do with the steps.
The way his hand felt at her waist, warm through the velvet.
The careful distance he maintained, proper and correct, that somehow made her more aware of every inch between them.
The way he looked at her, not at her feet or over her shoulder, but directly at her, like she was the only person in the room.
“You’re thinking too loud,” he murmured.
“I’m not thinking anything.”
“Your shoulders just tensed.”
“Maybe you’re holding them wrong.”
“Maybe you’re holding yourself wrong.” His thumb moved slightly at her waist, just a breath of motion. “Stop fighting it.”
“I don’t know how to not fight.”
“I know.” The words were soft, understanding. “But it’s just a dance, Cass. Let it be simple.”
Simple. As if anything in her life had ever been simple. As if dancing with him while her skin still remembered another man’s touch could ever be simple.
But for this moment, with snow falling around them and music filling the air, maybe she could pretend.
So she let her shoulders drop, let herself move closer, let the dance be what it was, just two people moving together in the candlelight, sharing space and breath and something that didn’t need words.
At least, not yet.
They danced through two more songs, each one drawing them incrementally closer until the proper distance became something more theoretical than actual.
Other couples swirled around them, but Cassara found her awareness narrowing to the warmth of Gideon’s hand at her waist and the steady rhythm of their movement.
When the third song ended, transitioning into something livelier, she expected him to step back, to return to their seats. Instead—
“Come with me,” he said quietly.
“Where?”
He didn’t answer, just tugged her gently toward the edge of the dance floor. She followed, curiosity overcoming confusion as he led her past their abandoned table, past Thendrick’s knowing smile, toward the great hall doors.
“Gideon, what—”
“Trust me.”
And despite everything, despite the bruised parts of her heart that still ached for explanations that never came, despite the guilt that whispered she had no business following him anywhere, she did.
The corridors were quiet, their footsteps echoing off stone as he led her through familiar paths made strange by candlelight and shadow. She recognized the route to the common room just as he pushed open the door.
The space was empty but warm, fire crackling in the hearth. And there, arranged along the mantelpiece, sat a collection of wrapped packages and bags—gifts waiting to be claimed.
“Did you—?” she began, but he was already moving toward the hearth, reaching for something at the end of the row.
A small black velvet bag, tied with silver cord.
He turned back to her, and there was something almost uncertain in his expression. “This is for you.”
Cassara stared at the offering. “You got me something?”
“Is that so surprising?”
“I…” Yes, it was. She’d made him something out of obligation, out of Liri’s gentle reminder about friendship and traditions. But she hadn’t expected, hadn’t thought…
“Open it,” he said softly, pressing the bag into her hands.
The velvet was soft beneath her fingers as she loosened the cord. Inside, her fingers found leather, supple and worn smooth. She drew it out slowly, breath catching as lamplight revealed what he’d made.
A bracelet. But not just any bracelet.
The leather was braided with care, reinforced with what looked like shimmercord—the same material used in ACS bonds. Three beads caught the light, each one hand-carved with delicate runes. She touched them gently, recognizing the symbols.
One for Auric Vow—their team, their unit, their shared purpose.
One that captured the essence of Flicker in abstract swirls, not mocking or dismissive, but acknowledging the bond she’d thought everyone scorned.
And the last one… blank. Waiting.
“The glyphs,” Gideon said, stepping closer to point out the subtle markings worked into the leather itself.
“This one’s for balance. I thought you might appreciate that after your battle with the ice.
This one helps with focus during stress.
And this—” His finger traced the third symbol.
“—will glow faintly when you’re near other members of our unit. So you can always find us.”
So you’re never alone.
The words hung unspoken between them, but she heard them anyway.
“I don’t—” Her voice came out rough. She cleared her throat, tried again. “Gideon, this is—”
“Practical,” he said quickly, like he was afraid of what she might say. “That’s all. You needed something that could survive combat training, and I noticed you don’t wear much jewelry, so I thought—”
“It’s perfect,” she interrupted, and watched his words stumble to a halt. “Help me put it on?”
His fingers were warm as they took the bracelet, wrapping it carefully around her left wrist. The leather settled against her skin like it belonged there, and when he fastened the simple clasp, she felt the glyphs hum to life, subtle, barely there, but unmistakably real.
“There,” he murmured, but his fingers lingered on her wrist, thumb brushing where leather met skin.
She looked up at him, finding his face closer than expected. The firelight threw shadows across his features, highlighting the intensity in his dark eyes, the slight part of his lips.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Something shifted in his expression, heat and hope and barely leashed want. His hand was still on her wrist, and she could feel her pulse racing beneath his touch.
“Cass—”
“I have something for you too,” she said quickly, stepping back before the moment could become something they couldn’t take back. Her cheek still burned from his earlier kiss, and the bracelet felt like a brand on her wrist, marking her as something she wasn’t sure she could be.
Not yet. Not with Auren’s ghost still haunting her hollow spaces.
She moved to the mantel, finding her lumpy, paint-stained package tucked between more elegant offerings. Next to the others, it looked even more pathetic than she remembered.