Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
One couple didn’t make it before the glow ebbed and swelled. The rings spun, some clockwise, still more counterclockwise. I followed the tide, gliding from one to the other, growing more aware of Sebastian on every pass. With anyone else, I would have led, not him. He seemed to know what I would do, before I did it, and never, not once, did he break contact.
More and more, my body trusted him to steer. When he spun me, I added a low backward arch, just for show, and he grinned with a slow satisfaction I wanted to see again and again and again.
“I knew you would excel at this, Brona.”
His praise went straight to my head.
Focus. Balance. A delicate spiral of light bloomed briefly between two pulses. I pivoted, skirt flaring, and brushed my fingertips through the sparkling upshot as it peaked.
Without missing a beat, the king shifted with me. For one fleeting moment, his hand firmed at my back. Not just physical but ethereal, thin dark ribbons seeping from his skin to wrap around my waist and hold me tight, somehow as tangible as his flesh and blood. Those ribbons didn’t feel like a weapon to me. They felt like being held by him, and all that awareness pulled tighter, deeper. I almost missed my next step.
Sebastian hauled me even closer, keeping the beat for us both.
Our gazes met briefly. A millisecond when we were the only two people in existence. Him, ferocity made flesh. Me, hope on fire. My whole body ignited, embers crackling beneath my pores.
The crest vanished, and a wave of approval passed through the crowd.
The game. Right.
The next peak came faster, the rhythm tightening. A couple stumbled, their laughter brittle as they stepped aside. My confidence soared.
Sebastian’s voice brushed my ear. “Perhaps we should play every day of your stay, hmm?”
“Are you sure you could survive it?” I teased, caught up in the moment. I moved, never too fast but always precise.
The floor surged, then stalled, a trick meant to throw off our timing. I adjusted mid-step, trusting the count I’d already committed to. Sebastian adjusted with me… ja! We succeeded where two others failed.
The tide quickened, the lights beneath our feet brightening, the rhythm growing erratic, testing instead of guiding. I felt Sebastian’s awareness hone, the hand on my back becoming an anchor.
For the first time, I realized he wasn’t watching the floor. He was watching me.
As soon as I noticed, he yanked me against him, our lips suddenly only a breath apart.
I almost kissed him. The rising of another ring saved me from making such a silly mistake.
The crowd whispered. Two pairs left. Us and another. Either I handed the king his victory, or his first loss in decades.
The next crest rose on the off-beat. I jumped without thinking, expecting Sebastian to spin me midair. He did it seamlessly, appearing to melt into the light.
A hush settled over the garden. A split second later, the fourth and fifth peaks rose and fell in rapid succession, testing endurance rather than grace. My calves burned. My breath came shorter, but I didn’t care. The dancer in me recognized the careful give-and-take for what it was. Two partners matching perfectly to the choreography.
The crowd leaned in as the tide gathered. I felt the wave before I saw it—a pressure beneath the light, building as the final crest rose. Too fast. Unpredictable.
When it exploded upward, I moved with it. The floor shifted, but I swept my palm through the beam.
The dais went dark, and silence crashed down. Then the garden erupted, cheers breaking out. We’d done it! We’d won.
Nobles leaned toward one another, voices overlapping, speculation already blooming. I caught fragments:
Never seen the king—
Who is she—
Did I see an outline of smokewings—
An outline? Truly I knew I hadn’t unleashed my smokewings, but maybe tendrils of smoke escaped.
Sebastian kept his hand on my back, warm and steady. I glanced up, and we shared a genuine smile without any hint of artifice or practice. Until his gaze iced over. The gloved hand at my spine curled briefly before falling away. Cool sea air rushed in where his warmth had been.
Did he regret the moment of unguarded vulnerability we’d shared?
Bjarki cleared his throat, visibly shaken. “The winners are His Majesty and Ambassador Bronwyn Drachenveil.”
Applause surged around us.
Sebastian faced me again, his expression now schooled into bland politeness. “I can take no credit,” he announced to one and all. “My partner is the incarnation of grace.” He smiled once more, but it wasn’t the same.
At the edge of the crowd, Gunnar caught his attention and made clipped motions with his hands.
The king’s eyes narrowed. “I must go. We’ll study runes when I finish this.” Without offering an explanation, he strode from the dais, then the garden, never looking back.
Okay, what just happened? First the ice over, now this.