Chapter 24
Serafina
“You look absolutely stunning.” He tugs me against him, one arm sliding across my back while the other holds my hand firmly to his chest.
I try not to shiver. I try, oh so very hard, to remain poised and proper, like a woman such as Helena would. But I can’t. My entire body betrays me, trembling as I give into the pull that is him.
“Are you all right?” he whispers, his words meant only for me. His warm breath grazes my ear, sending another shiver down my spine. “I know this can’t be easy, seeing all of this and knowing what they’re celebrating.”
Right. That’s why I should be shivering. Because I’m horrified. Because I can barely contain my rage.
And I am horrified.
I am pissed that the Elite live these extraordinary lives and have these elaborate parties when the people in my village fight over scraps to survive.
But then my mind circles back to how he said they. Not we.
Does he not believe the start of the third trials is worthy of celebration?
Pulling away slightly, I glance up to meet his gaze. His golden eyes catch the light, the flecks brighter than I’ve ever seen, perfectly matching the crown atop his head.
“I’m fine,” I manage, though my heart pounds relentlessly. “Just trying to take it all in.” Including him.
He smiles softly before spinning me in a fluid circle, and I can’t help but notice how many people have stopped dancing, choosing to stare at us instead.
His long fingers grip my hips with enough possession to send my thoughts spiraling.
“Is this okay?” I ask, hating how aware of everyone I am when all I want is to dance with him and feel his hands on me time and time again.
“Should you be dancing with me?” But what I really want to know is how dangerous this is, drawing so much attention when no one can know who I really am and where I really come from.
“My parents have retired for the evening,” he says, his voice unbothered.
“And when the gossip reaches them in the morning, all they’ll hear is that their son spent the evening dancing with the most beautiful woman at the ball.
Which I’m sure no one will blame me for, nor think twice about.
Especially considering half the men here haven’t been able to take their eyes off you. ”
The most beautiful woman at the ball. He can’t be serious. And there’s only one reason they can’t take their eyes off me.
“Because I’m dancing with their prince, something I hear you tend not to do.”
He chuckles at that.
“Oh, Nova, you’re far too bright to be so painfully unaware. The men were staring long before I ever approached you. I would have gotten to you sooner had I not been forced into a conversation with the treasurer.”
Gotten to me sooner? Heat blooms in my chest, and now I’m the one smiling.
“Why, prince…” I tilt my head, raising a brow in the same teasing fashion he’d used on me a week ago. “Are you jealous?”
“Oh most definitely,” he says, his tone easy, as if we were discussing nothing more than the weather. “But unlike you, I can admit it.”
The words land with a weight that steals the air from my lungs. He speaks them so plainly, as if they’re a truth I should already know.
His hands guide me effortlessly, spinning me again, the edges of my gown fanning out in a perfect arc before he draws me back to him.
His touch, his scent, the heat radiating from him—everything about this man is undeniably addicting.
Or perhaps I’ve simply had too much to drink. The realization has me losing my balance, but his strong arms catch me, steady me.
“Nova, dare I say you’re a more graceful fighter than dancer.” It sounds like a joke, but there’s so much concern gripping his brow and his jaw feathers.
“Orilander powder,” I reply with a sheepish smile. Downing that second cup was probably not the brightest idea.
“Ah,” he says as understanding washes over his features. “Step on my feet.”
“What?” My jaw falls slack.
“If you cannot keep your balance, then let me dance for the both of us because as far as I’m concerned, this night has only just begun.”
With a smile that hurts my cheeks, I do as he instructs, and for what feels like hours, we dance. We dance until the floor begins to empty. We dance until my mind is consumed by only him. We dance until Theo taps Ryjax on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear that I can’t hear.
“When the song ends,” he responds then turns his attention back to me.
“You have to go?” I ask, my voice a bit whinier than I’d like, but like most things that have happened this evening, I blame it on the orilander powder.
“Soon,” he says, brushing my hair behind my shoulder and pulling me flush against him so my head rests against his firm chest. “But if I could, I’d dance with you all night.”
His words are so soft, so soft, I barely hear him.
“Hmm,” I hum. “What did you say?”
“Nothing, Nova. Just let me twirl you around for a little while longer.”
So I do, and every time he holds me tighter, I can’t help but feel a sense of home.
* * *
“Did you enjoy yourself this evening?” Theo asks as he guides me back to my room.
I hadn’t seen much of him since he left me at the drinks earlier in the night. Although, I can’t exactly say I spent too much time looking. Not with my attention more than a little occupied by his cousin.
“Very much,” I say, as blush warms my cheeks.
He chuckles, and as he does, the ground beneath my feet shudders. Tremors ripple through the tunnel walls, shaking loose small rocks from the archway overhead. I press myself against the side of the passage, and Theo does the same. The vibrations continue, subtle but noticeable.
An earthquake.
“Don’t worry,” Theo says. “It’ll pass soon. They happen sometimes.”
It’s not the first earthquake I’ve felt, far from it, but there’s a strange comfort in knowing they happen here, too. That even within the Imperial City, where people have all the water they could ever drink and all the food they could ever eat, the world still reminds them it’s dying.
When the tremors finally fade, we finish our walk in silence.
“Get some rest, Little Flame.” He dips his head before turning away.
Once inside, I exhale a long breath, the door clicking shut behind me. I cross the room, intending to collapse on the bed, but stop short when my eyes land on the letter sitting on my desk, the one Ishla delivered earlier when helping me get ready for the ball.
It’s a letter from Char. One I haven’t had time to read.
The parchment feels heavier than it should as I pick it up and sit in the chair.
I place it beside another letter, the one my parents sent, the one Ryjax delivered days ago, and suddenly, it’s as if I can feel his hands on me again, his lips gliding over my shoulder, the pressure of him against my forehead.
I shake my head before tucking both letters into the drawer. Unable to focus enough to give them the attention they deserve.
My parents’ letter had been filled with nothing but excitement, joy, and gratitude to the prince. They’re counting the days until we’ll be reunited again, and there was a time not long ago when I had been doing the same.
But now, as the trial gets closer, so too does the day I’ll leave this room, this palace—and the man who seems to occupy my every thought.
A groan escapes me, long and frustrated because at this point, I don’t think my thoughts are due to the orilander powder, and I don’t know what it is I’m doing.
He is the prince.
I used to remind myself of that because he represents everything I hate, everything I loathe.
His family created the trials. His family marked me for death.
But now? Now, I say it to remind myself that he is everything I want—and the one thing I can never have.
He is the prince. And I cannot have him.
No matter how much I may want him.
And I do.
The admission feels like a spark catching fire in my chest, sudden and all-consuming. I want him more than I’ve allowed myself to realize. But I think…I think…I’ve wanted him for a while now.
Maybe since he showed me the gardens.
Maybe even before that.
I want to feel his breath on my skin. I want to feel his fingers tightening around my waist. But it’s more than that. I want to know what he tastes like.
No.
No.
I cannot be having these thoughts.
He is the prince.
Needing a distraction, I pull out Char’s letter again.
Char.
He is someone I can have. Char is realistic. Char is strong and steady, and he’ll keep me safe. He’ll always keep me safe.
But…do I really need someone to protect me?
I glance down at my hands. Fire flickers to life in my palms, glowing bright and warm. The ease with which I can now summon it makes me grin. The ache that once followed is barely a whisper in my limbs.
Nyxa chuckles softly in my mind. “You are your own protector, Fire Wielder.”
And as the flames dance between my fingers, I know that she’s right.