Chapter 10 #4
Alina nodded, a little breathless. “It’s wonderful. I’ve never seen so many people happy all at once.”
Kael watched the crowd, eyes distant. “They live hard lives, but they know how to savor what they have. That’s something your palace could never understand.”
She took a sip of the wine, letting the heat spread through her chest. “I was taught that the Gift was something dangerous. That it had to be exterminated, or it would destroy everything it touched.”
Kael laughed, a soft, genuine sound. “And yet here we are. No destruction, just lights and songs and too much wine.”
Alina watched him, searching for the person she’d seen in the Caves, the one who carried the weight of every decision, every failure, every hope. She found him here still, but he was lighter, the burdens set aside for one night.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” she said, the words tumbling out without thought.
Kael turned, surprised. “Like what?”
“Happy. Or something close to it.”
He considered her words for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose I am. For tonight, at least.” He looked at her, eyes gold and warm. “This is the world I’m fighting for.”
The statement hung between them, simple but profound.
A group of dancers formed a circle in the middle of the square, beckoning others to join.
The two Lissas dragged Alina to her feet, pulling her into the ring.
She protested at first, insisting she didn’t know the steps, but the rhythm was infectious and easy to learn.
She spun and turned, sometimes clumsy, sometimes graceful, always laughing.
Never in her life had she felt freer or more herself as she did in this moment, giving herself to the music and not caring what she looked like.
Kael watched from the edge, arms folded, expression caught somewhere between amusement and pride, his eyes holding an almost predatory glint. When Alina stumbled out of the circle, flushed and breathless, he caught her by the arm, steadying her.
“Not bad, city girl,” he teased.
She stuck out her tongue, then caught herself. “Thank you for bringing me,” she said, quieter now.
He squeezed gently, the touch lingering. “Thank you for seeing it.”
The festival raged on. Above them, the sky was a velvet black, each star brighter for the lanterns below. Alina found herself standing in the middle of the square, Kael at her side, surrounded by strangers who no longer felt strange.
She looked at Kael, saw the hope in his eyes, and understood—finally, fully—what he meant to build, and what he was willing to risk for it.
The future was uncertain, but Alina found herself wanting to fight for it, too.
The night had thinned the crowd to its truest heart, of those too stubborn to sleep, too lonely to leave, or too happy to let go of the fire and the music and the company.
Alina and Kael found themselves on a bench set just beyond the reach of the main circle, the crackling of the largest bonfire drawing every gaze.
Above, the stars were scattered and wild, as if the festival had summoned a second, colder sky to match the lanterns below.
Alina’s cheeks ached from smiling. The mug of wine in her hand had been refilled too many times by helpful strangers, and every sip left her a little more herself and a little less the perfect daughter of a vanished palace.
She’d lost the habit of watching her posture, of counting every gesture until her elbows were braced on her knees, and once, when Kael told a particularly wicked joke about a king, a goat, and a misplaced crown, she laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink.
The memory made her snort again, and she stole a look at Kael.
He was closer than she remembered, the bench forcing their shoulders to meet.
His thigh pressed to hers in a way that felt more like invitation than accident.
His own mug sat abandoned at his feet; instead, he had taken to rolling a coin across the backs of his fingers—or trying to, at least. The trick required a little too much concentration for a man as wine-drunk as he now was.
Reaching for the same chunk of bread, their hands met.
Instead of letting go, Kael curled his fingers around hers, warm and callused, and squeezed gently.
He studied her hand in his and didn’t let go, just stroked her palm with his thumb in slow, absent arcs, as if the touch itself was all that mattered.
“I think the entire village has decided you’re my betrothed,” Kael said, voice roughened by drink and smoke and something else.
Alina’s face turned hot, but she didn’t pull away.
“That would be an improvement over my usual reputation,” she said.
The truth of it surprised her. His second hand abandoned the coin and came to his first, both of them engulfing hers.
He stroked and caressed, alternating between small massages and reverent swipes.
It was exhilarating in its novelty, for she’d never experienced such blatant, simple affection from anyone before.
His tenderness warmed her heart more than any fire or spiced wine ever could.
She had been yearning for his touch, even if she had not wanted to admit it to herself.
To finally feel it made her happy beyond words.
It also made her want more.
Kael’s eyes were nearly the same color as the firelight. He leaned in, the warmth of him making her dizzy. His scent of wood and pine and something she could not name was intoxicating, addictive even, making her want to lean in and soak it in.
“You’re better than I thought you’d be,” he admitted. “Braver, smarter, much less of a terror.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’d say the same for you. You hide it well, but you’re almost likable when you want to be.”
He grinned, a lopsided thing that nearly undid her. “Don’t spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain.”
He lifted her hand, still captured in his, and turned it over, almost meditatively inspecting her palm as if reading her future in the creases and whorls.
The intimacy of it made her breath catch and her stomach drop, warmth wandering from her heart to somewhere distinctly lower.
With a fingertip, he traced the faint scar from where she’d cut herself as a child, a silver thread against her white skin.
He looked so content right now. The captain of the rebels was far away, almost unreal. “Were you ever afraid?” she asked.
Kael considered, still tracing slow lines on her skin. “Terrified, every day. I still am. I just learned to hide it.”
Alina felt a wave of compassion, or maybe longing—or maybe it was just the sweet, drunken knowledge that they understood each other in ways no one else ever had. She leaned her head against his shoulder. He went perfectly still, as if afraid the moment might shatter.
“I’m glad you survived,” she said. It wasn’t a compliment; it was a truth.
Kael lifted her hand to his face and, very gently, kissed the inside of her wrist. His lips were soft and unhurried, and the world spun a little faster on its axis.
Before she could say anything, the music changed to a slower song, the sort designed to pull lovers or would-be lovers into the circle under the pretext of tradition or communal joy. Couples drifted to the fire, bodies swaying, arms wrapped loose.
Kael stood, pulling Alina up with him. “I have no rhythm,” she lied, suddenly shy, stumbling a little.
“That’s why you follow my lead,” he said.
His hands found her waist, warm and sure.
Her own slid up to his shoulders, and he drew her closer, until there was no space between them but breath and possibility.
His body pressed flush against her. Alina couldn’t hide a shiver as she registered every tiny detail.
The strong frame, the firm muscles, the taut belly, the large, warm hands.
Each and every single finger. She wanted to never stop feeling him, to hang on tight for the rest of her existence.
They swayed. At first, Alina counted every step, every movement, terrified she’d ruin it. But the wine, the fire, the press of Kael’s hands…all of it combined to erase her self-consciousness. Soon, she was lost in the music, the world around them shrinking to the two of them.
“You smell like honey,” he said, voice low.
“I rolled myself in it the whole afternoon.”
“Now that’s a sight I would have loved to see.” His voice was pure velvet—exactly as she had imagined it all these weeks, lying alone and freezing in her cot. Desire flamed deep in her belly, spreading like warm, oozing liquid through her core. Honey, indeed.
Kael’s hair fell across his forehead, and, impulsively, she reached up to brush it away.
His eyes went soft, almost vulnerable, and he squeezed her waist in response.
They turned, and now her cheek was against his chest. His pulse thrummed, wild and nervous, and Alina couldn’t help but smile, proud to have done that to him.
He murmured something, and she felt it more than heard it. “You make it too easy to forget everything else.”
She pulled back, just enough to look up at him. “That’s the idea, isn’t it? For tonight, at least.”
They turned again, a little off-balance, and nearly collided with another pair. Alina giggled as Kael caught her by the elbows, holding her steady. It left their faces inches apart, breath mingling.
“Perhaps we’ve had enough wine,” he murmured, but made no move to let her go.
“I think we’re supposed to keep dancing,” Alina replied, but her voice was soft, her words sticking together.
He bent his head, and for a moment she thought he’d kiss her. Instead, he nestled his face into the place where her neck met her shoulder, inhaling deeply. His embrace tightened, pressing her to him. She could have sworn the world stopped. Her heart did anyway.
Then, from the edge of the square, a group of children set off a cluster of lanterns. The sky erupted with little bursts of light, everyone cheering. The spell was broken.
They came apart and Kael rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish.
He caught her gaze from under his brows and let out a shaky laugh. “Saved by the rabble.”
For an awkward moment they stood, but then he took her hand again and they started walking away from the square, neither of them eager to return to the noise or the reality waiting beyond the circle of warmth.
They walked in silence, but it was easy; they needed no words to understand what was being communicated.
They had been found lodgings in separate houses just beyond the main street, simple cottages with clean floors and beds that didn’t collapse when sat upon. Hers was the first they reached and she turned to face Kael in the moonlight.
He hesitated, hands in his pockets. For the first time, he looked uncertain.
“Well,” he said, drawing the word out. “We’ll need our wits tomorrow, if we want to survive the festival’s aftermath.”
“Is that your way of saying goodnight?” she laughed, leaning back against the door.
Kael shrugged, looking down. “I never was much good at endings.”
Alina reached out, caught his hand, and squeezed. “Then don’t end it.”
He looked up, and in that moment, she saw every hope and fear reflected in his eyes. He stepped forward, crowding her against the door, but did not kiss her. Instead, he pressed his forehead to hers and just breathed, slow and steady.
His lips brushed her temple, lingering. “Goodnight, Alina.”
She watched him go, every sense alive.
When she finally slipped inside, her skin still tingled where his hand had held hers.
Alina sat on the edge of her bed, the darkness alive with the memory of his touch. Tomorrow would come, and with it all the uncertainty and danger and heartbreak of the world.
But tonight, she would dream of him.
She wondered if he would, too.