Page 128 of Godbound
The scent of the oils still clings to my skin. It makes me feel foolish. “Is one dance too much to ask? Just one moment to feel like a normal girl, enjoying her birthday.”
I stop walking and turn toward Kaelzar. He stands a few paces away, half-shrouded in shadows.
“And now I’m out here,” I add, laughing hollowly, “ranting. How pathetic is that?”
Kaelzar tilts his head slightly. His gaze doesn’t waver, steady in a way that somehow cuts through the ache. “We can still dance,” he says, his voice calm and measured.
I blink. “What?”
He steps toward me, each movement slow, as if he’s syncing himself to the ghost of the melody drifting through the night. “The music’s still here. And you’re here. Why not?”
An incredulous laugh bursts from me. “Dance with you? Like this?” I gesture at him, this tall, imposing shadow of a man, wrapped in darkness like it’s part of his skin. “Not unless you plan on taking off that ancient, miserable hood.”
A smirk tugs at his lips, barely there, but enough to catch. “Is it really that bad?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “If you keep wearing that hood, it’s absolutely that bad.” To my surprise, Kaelzar reaches up and pulls off the cloak.
Shadows melt from his face, and for the first time, I see him not in his usual ragged, utilitarian garb, but dressed as though he belongs in the stories they tell about fallen gods.
His shirt is deep charcoal, tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders and lean frame. Silver embroidery traces delicate constellations across the fabric, glinting faintly in the red moonlight. Even his boots gleam, polished to a shine that makes me blink twice.
“You’ve been dressed like this the whole time?” I ask, startled.
“I was prepared,” he says, extending a hand toward me, “for the moment you realized the night with him would be wasted. Took you longer than I anticipated.”
I stare at his outstretched hand, at his calloused, scarred palm.
Slowly, hesitantly, I place my fingers in his. His grip is firm but gentle. He pulls me closer, one hand settling lightly at my waist, the other still holding mine. His movements are unhurried.
I’m stiff at first, my body still taut with the echoes of anger and humiliation, but as he leads, something in me begins to let go.
The soft strains of music from the ballroom weave around us like a spell. He moves with the control of a warrior but the grace of someone who’s danced this step before.
His touch is steady. Possessive. A silent promise that as long as I’m in his arms, nothing will touch me.
And I believe him.
The ache from the ballroom—the judgmental stares, Ryker’s shame—fades. All that remains is this: Kaelzar’s hands on me, his warmth, his steady breath.
I glance up. His face is close. His eyes, usually so guarded, carry a quiet intensity. The press of his hand at my waist, the rasp of his fingers brushing against the fabric, sends a shiver through me. Every nerve feels awake.
“You’re not terrible at this,” I murmur, the words catching slightly.
A faint smile curves his lips. “Neither are you.”
The music softens into more intimate tunes, and our movements slow to match it.
My breath falls into rhythm with his. For a moment, the entire garden seems to go still, no sound but the faint rustle of leaves, our shared breath, and the hush of moonlight on skin.
I close my eyes and sink into it. His arms around me. The night. The quiet. And then I hear it, steps on the gravel.
I open my eyes slowly, glancing past Kaelzar, toward the edge of the garden path and I see her.
Liona. Half-hidden behind a marble column wrapped in ivy, her white hair looks like it’s dipped in blood under this moonlight. Her expression is calculating, her mouth slightly parted, as if caught mid-breath. She makes no move to speak, no gesture to interrupt. Just watches.
A flicker of panic rises in my chest, but Kaelzar’s hand at my waist tightens ever so slightly, and I stay where I am. Let her look. Let them all look. For once, I don’t care.
As the moment stretches, the sky above us begins to shift. I tilt my head back, just in time to see them.
