Lachlan rubs his earlobe. “Surely, you’re tired of dancing after all these hours? Wouldn’t the two of you like to sit for a minute, fill up on a drink?”

“No!’ My gaze trails back to Braizen, whose eyes remind me of a raging storm. “I wish to dance with you, Lachlan. If you wouldn’t mind just one more?” I can’t let my dance with Baelliles’ Prince be my last. I must wash away this uncomfortable rush of longing that our closeness sparked.

Lachlan’s face pulls into a playful frown as he leans into a bow. “Of course, Princess. Another dance will be no trouble to me at all.” He straightens and looks at Braizen. “How about you? Would you like to join us or get another drink, perhaps?”

Braizen shakes his head. “I’ll pass, old friend. I think I’ve had my fill of dancing for one night. I’m going to find the nearest tavern.”

“Are you sure?” Lachlan presses. “I have something spectacular planned! I’d hate for you to miss it.”

Braizen raises a hand and smiles. “Really, Lach. I have some things I need to figure out. I’ll see you later for that drink?”

“Braizen!” I call out as he leaves. His expression is unreadable. I’m not sure what I want to say or why I even called his name. I gulp down my confusion and grin.

“Thank you for the dance. Not bad for a bandit.”

His lips twitch upwards, but his smile seems anything but genuine. Two fingers to his forehead, and he lazily salutes me. “You too, Little Sparrow.”

He effortlessly braids his way through the swarm of people who call out and pat him on the back. My neck strains as I watch until he’s completely lost in the crowd.

Lachlan coughs, and I turn to face him. He’s rubbing his ear again.

“Are you ready?” I grin, holding out my palm. His brows raise, but he nods, and we dance our merry little steps. But as we hop and skip, I wonder where Braizen is and what he’s doing. Not even the loud music can drown out the sounds of my thoughts.

The sound of his voice.

The sound of his skin calling out for mine.

Lachlan is all smiles as he leads Teddy, Deria, Stig, and me onto the temple’s balcony. We overlook a sea of red, Aeradians still burning with energy and erupting into cheers when they see their king. Teddy sips her wine while Stig hovers, taking in her scent like a starving street cat. She looks like she doesn’t mind, or perhaps she’s too used to the attention to care. I can’t tell if Deria is drunk or incredibly tired; her eyelids droop, and her smile is crooked. Now and then, I hear her mutter unintelligible whispers to herself, followed by a low laugh.