The House of Wind was glowing with starlight and enchantment. The Winter Solstice Ball is in full swing, brimming with High Fae from across Prythian. Music floats like magic through the air. You’re dressed in silver, hair kissed by frost, your power humming quietly beneath your skin.

You had felt Nyx’s eyes the moment you stepped into the ballroom.

He hadn’t said a word yet—not tonight, at least—but the air between you and the son of the High Lord crackled with the same intensity it always did. It had been building for months, the lingering touches, the glances that held just a second too long, the almost-confessions in moonlit gardens. But nothing had happened. Not really.

Which is why, when Ciran—the son of a High Fae noble from the Day Court—offered you a charming smile and a hand for the next dance, you accepted.

He was handsome in a golden, sun-drenched way. His laugh was easy, his hand warm against your waist, and his compliments were just flirtatious enough to make your heart beat faster. You didn’t want to provoke anything, but maybe…maybe you wanted to be seen.

And you were seen.

From across the ballroom, Nyx stood in quiet conversation with Azriel and Elain, but his violet eyes never left you. Not when Ciran leaned in to whisper something that made you laugh. Not when the male’s hand briefly slid a little too far down your back.

You caught Nyx’s gaze—and something in it was molten.

The next moment, he was moving. Fluid, determined steps cutting through the dancing crowd, power rolling off him like a shadowy tide.

Ciran was mid-sentence when Nyx stopped beside you, expression carved from stone.

“Mind if I steal her for a moment?” he asked the male, voice calm but threaded with steel.

Ciran blinked, clearly reading the unspoken threat underneath. “Of course,” he said lightly, stepping back with a graceful bow. “Enjoy the dance.”

Nyx didn’t wait. He took your hand, his fingers curling possessively around yours, and led you into the next waltz, pulling you close—closer than the dance strictly allowed.

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself,” he said lowly, his voice brushing your ear like a promise.