Before Cyrus could ask what she meant, Stasia separated with an exaggerated flourish, her arm rising high and extending so that she practically flung him like a top away from her and next into Clarissa’s arms.

“I know, she’s exhausting,” the tiny woman said, expertly catching Cyrus’s hands and pulling him into a similar dance as if this were a practiced occurrence. “Even if I love her for it.”

“You should train with her sometime if you want to see exhausting,” he said, and they shared a laugh. From the corner of his eye he caught Stasia whispering something into Keles’s ear, and his curiosity soared to unbearable heights.

“Good luck to the both of us then,” Clarissa said, and then twirled him away from her, albeit with far less impressive strength than Stasia. Cyrus went along nonetheless, playful on his feet until returning to Keles’s embrace. She caught him and held him until he steadied. They parted, but not quite so far as before. Fingers re-entwined. Without warning she guided his left hand to the small of her back, and her thin shirt meant little to his touch. He felt the smoothness of her skin, and the tightness of her muscles.

“It is your birthday, as Stasia so eloquently reminded me,” she said, as if she could read his every thought. “Or naming-day, as the Miquoans seem to call it.”

Her smile melted his insides. Back and forth, ever closer, her presence lightning, her brown eyes a smoldering fire. His heart firmly lodged itself in his throat.

“I was quite content with just a book,” he said.

“Perhaps you were not the one who needed this?” Her forehead leaned upon his chest, and she slowly exhaled. “To dance with a prince. I dreamed of this once.”

Cyrus slowed to a gentle sway. In the corner, it seemed Rayan noticed, and despite Stasia’s glare, he similarly lessened the tempo of his playing.

“Was the dance hall so drab and poorly lit?” Cyrus asked.

“The floor was white marble, the walls gold, and the set of guests far more dignified.” She put her own hand about his waist. “But we make do with what the world gives us.”

The song ended, and a new one began. Rayan’s boots stomped harder, and it seemed the Ahlai sisters recognized it, for they both loudly sang along. The intimate moment passed, but Cyrus was grateful for it nonetheless. Despite not knowing the words, he attempted to join in, and Keles’s grimace at his lack of skill only made him belt it out louder. His joy could not be contained. Years of weight fell off his shoulders, sudden and freeing. In this dark, crowded little confectionary, he would change nothing. The late hours slipped away, each one a gift.

This was perfect. This was home. Here. Now. Eating, laughing, and dancing the night away with the family he entrusted with his life.

CHAPTER 25

MAGUS