Chapter 4
SENNA
Idon't know when I stopped keeping track of time. When the hour he promised his sister became something neither of us mentions. But Lorenth hasn't pulled away, hasn't made any move to leave, and I'm certainly not going to be the one to remind him.
When my feet start to ache from dancing, he notices before I say anything. His hand slides from my back, fingers trailing down my arm until they find my wrist.
"Come on." His voice is low, meant only for me despite the music swelling around us. "There's more to see."
He leads me through the crowd, his grip sure and possessive in a way that makes my stomach flutter.
People part for him—some because of his wings, massive and elegant even folded against his back, others because of something in his bearing that demands space.
I follow in his wake, my dress swirling around my legs as we weave between dancers and performers.
The square opens up ahead, revealing sections I hadn't noticed before.
Booths draped in pink silk and red ribbons line the cobblestones, each one manned by Nashai with their glowing white eyes and ethereal grace.
Lanterns hang overhead in clusters, their light shifting from crimson to rose to soft amber, casting everything in hues that make my heart squeeze.
It's beautiful. More beautiful than anything I've ever seen.
"This way." Lorenth's thumb brushes against my pulse point, and I wonder if he can feel how fast my heart is racing.
We stop at a booth where a Nashai woman offers winter-berries in shallow silver bowls. The fruit glows faintly, dusted with something that sparkles in the lantern light. Magic, probably. Everything here feels touched by it.
Lorenth picks up a berry, examining it before holding it out to me. "Try one."
I take it from his fingers, our skin brushing, and pop it in my mouth. The taste explodes across my tongue—sweet and tart and cold, like biting into frozen starlight. I gasp, and Lorenth's lips curve into something that's almost a smile.
"Good?" He's already reaching for another, this time bringing it to my lips himself.
I part them without thinking, and he slides the berry in, his fingertips grazing my lower lip. Heat floods through me, settling low in my belly, and I have to remind myself to chew. To swallow. To breathe.
"Very good," I manage, and his eyes darken.
He eats one himself, never looking away from me, and I watch his throat work as he swallows. Watch the way his jaw tightens and then relaxes. I shouldn't find that attractive. Shouldn't be cataloging every detail of how he moves, how he tastes the fruit like he's memorizing it.
But I am.
We move on, and everywhere I look there's something new.
A performer juggling flames that shift colors mid-air—blue to green to violet.
A group of Nashai singing in harmony, their voices layered and haunting, telling a story about lovers reunited across lifetimes.
A fountain where the water flows upward instead of down, sparkling droplets suspended in the air before falling back into the basin.
I can't stop staring. Can't stop taking it all in like I'm afraid if I blink, it'll all disappear.
Darian never let me see things like this. Never let me leave the house except for errands, and even then he'd time me. Make sure I came straight back. But this—this is magic and wonder and everything I've been missing locked away in that suffocating marriage.
Not that it's a real marriage. Not in any way that matters.
I know he cheats. Know he spends his late nights in other women's beds, gambling in the taverns I'm not allowed to go near.
I don't care. If anything, I'm grateful for it.
Grateful for every night he doesn't come home, every moment I don't have to feel his hands on me or hear his voice cutting me down.
Here, with Lorenth, I don't feel guilty. Don't feel like I'm doing anything wrong.
I feel alive.
"You're smiling." Lorenth's voice pulls me back, and I realize he's right. My face actually hurts from how wide I'm grinning.
"I'm enjoying this," I admit, gesturing at the square around us. "I've always wanted to see a festival.
I turn to face him fully, and his expression shifts. Softens. "I'm glad I could be here with you then."
He studies me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind those storm-blue eyes ringed with gold. Then he reaches out, tucking a stray curl behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek.
"Come on." His voice is rougher now, edged with something I can't name. "There's more."
He guides me to another section where a Nashai man offers glasses of sparkling wine from a tray that floats beside him, hovering at shoulder height without any visible support. The glasses themselves are delicate, etched with patterns that catch the light—hearts and stars and swirling vines.
Lorenth takes two, handing me one. "To chaos," he says, his mouth quirking.
I laugh despite myself, raising my glass to clink against his. "To chaos."
The wine is sweet and effervescent, bubbles dancing across my tongue. I can taste roses and something citrus, and underneath it all, a warmth that spreads through my chest like liquid courage.
We drink in silence, but it's not uncomfortable. It's the kind of quiet that feels intentional, like we're both savoring something we know won't last.
Around us, the festival continues its revelry.
Couples lean into each other, some already kissing in shadowed alcoves.
Thaliverns drift through the air, their pink wings leaving trails of shimmer that cling to hair and skin.
The incense thickens, wrapping around us in waves that smell of jasmine and cinnamon and something darker, more primal.
I finish my wine, and Lorenth takes the glass from my hand, setting it aside on a nearby ledge without breaking eye contact. His hand finds mine again, and we keep walking.
We pass a booth where a Nashai woman reads fortunes in scrying bowls, another where lovers can commission temporary bond marks—delicate silver tattoos that fade after a week.
I stare at those longer than I should, watching as a xaphan woman gets a vine of roses traced along her collarbone while her partner holds her hand.
What would it feel like to have something like that? To wear a mark that says you belong to someone, that someone belongs to you?
"Senna." Lorenth's voice is closer now, his breath warm against my ear. "You're thinking too hard."
I turn toward him, and realize how close we're standing. Close enough that I can see the individual threads of silver woven through his navy tunic. Close enough to count his eyelashes, dark and thick beneath the edge of his bird mask.
"Sorry." I'm not sure what I'm apologizing for.
"Don't be." His free hand comes up, cupping my jaw, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "I like watching your mind work."
Heat crawls up my neck, and I'm grateful for the mask hiding part of my face. But he can probably see it anyway—the flush spreading across my skin, the way my pupils dilate when he touches me.
"Lorenth—"
"Say it again." The command is soft, almost pleading.
"Lorenth." His name tastes good in my mouth. Feels right.
His eyes drop to my lips, and my breath catches. The world narrows to just this—his hand on my face, mine clutched in his other palm, the space between us shrinking until there's barely any air left.
He's going to kiss me.
I want him to kiss me.
My husband would kill me, and I think it might be worth it to know what it's like to actually feel wanted just once.
I tilt my chin up, heart hammering against my ribs, and his mouth is inches from mine when—
"Well, well." A voice cuts through the moment, bright and amused. "What do we have here?"
Lorenth tenses, his hand falling away from my face, and I blink as he guides me toward the source of the interruption. A booth I hadn't noticed before, draped in white silk that seems to glow faintly in the lantern light.
Behind it stands a Nashai woman, pale gold skin luminous, her bright eyes fixed on us with unsettling intensity. Her white wings are massive, arching above her in elegant curves, and her hair falls in intricate braids adorned with prayer beads that click softly when she moves.
"Serai." Lorenth's voice is tight, controlled, but I catch the edge of frustration beneath it.
"Lorenth Varyon." She grins, revealing teeth that are just slightly too sharp. "I didn't expect to see you here. Especially not looking like that."
"Like what?" He steps closer to the booth, pulling me with him, and I try to make myself smaller under the weight of her stare.
"Like a man who's actually enjoying himself." Serai's gaze shifts to me, and her smile widens. "The night has been successful for you both, I see."
I frown, confusion cutting through the haze of attraction. "What do you mean?"
She tilts her head, studying me with those unnerving eyes, and then looks back at Lorenth. "You don't feel it yet?"
"Feel what?" Lorenth's voice has gone cold, dangerous in a way that makes goosebumps rise on my arms.
"The fates at work." Serai leans forward, bracing her hands on the booth's edge. "Souls recognizing souls." She looks at me directly, and I feel pinned beneath her attention. "I can feel it. Surely you must."
My breath stops. The words send a jolt of fear through me, each one sinking deep and settling somewhere I can't reach.
Bound. Souls. Meant for each other.
No.
That's not—we just met. We danced and ate winter-berries and drank wine and I felt something but it can't be that.
Can't be some cosmic destiny tying me to a man I barely know.
Not mention I was sold to someone else. Tonight was just…
I was making a new friend. It can't be our souls actually meant for each other.
Can it?
I stare up at Lorenth, searching his face for denial, for logic, for anything that will make this make sense. But he's not looking at Serai anymore.
He's looking at me.
And in his eyes, beneath the shock and the carefully controlled mask he wears, I see something that makes my stomach drop.
Recognition.
Like he's been waiting for someone to name what he's been feeling. Like Serai just gave voice to something he already knew but didn't want to admit.
"That's impossible," I whisper, but my voice shakes.
Serai laughs, the sound musical and infuriating. "The gods rarely care what we think is possible. They work in their own time, weave their own patterns." She straightens, her braids clicking. "But you'll see. Give it time. Give it truth. The bond doesn't lie."
Lorenth's hand tightens around mine, and I feel his pulse through his palm—fast, erratic, matching my own. But it makes me wonder…
Is it because he thinks it's impossible, too, or is he hoping just like I shouldn't be?