Page 71

Chapter 68

IRIS

I flipped through pages of translations, comparing the two finished sets with the decoder atop the partial third scroll. The inscriptions held minor variations—from tired eyes and stolen rushed moments of interpreting.

If I were to believe them, there could be no mistakes..

A third pass. Maybe even a fourth.

I had to be certain.

“I suppose I should have looked here first.”

Theon’s voice made me spin, shoving the sun-gilded journal and tattered scrolls behind me.

“Sorry,” I grimaced, gathering the pages at my back. A glance out the window revealed the orange horizon, the night slipping away. “I was only checking a few things.”

“Likely story,” he mused, offering his hand.

Dressed in all his finery for the Felfrost ball, Theon’s dark silk tunic was unbuttoned at the top, a structured corset belt cinching his waist. He was sans formal jacket—his tanned chest peeking through.

I tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow, allowing him to pull me through each winding hallway while my mind wandered, before stopping before a grand staircase.

Quite a steep staircase. I was glad I had only taken three swigs from the bottle of moonwine in the apothecary.

I was dying for a party. Though, I could do without so many wandering eyes on my back. Maybe the plunging neckline would help with averting attention elsewhere. They did look spectacular.

The mantle concealed what was necessary, but the cool breeze along the wide expanses of exposed skin everywhere else felt vindicating. Freeing.

All right Ferrin, I’m leaning on your counsel tonight. Tits out.

Theon placed both hands on my shoulders, appraising the lilac gown.

“This is some of Deya’s best work,” he remarked.

“Much to her chagrin, I’m sure.”

His laughter mingled with mine before he squeezed my shoulders and moved toward Deyanira. A carefully calculated move, amidst continuously swirling rumors of Aspen and Deyanira’s betrothal. One I now understood.

We were all dancing around decisions bearing monumental consequences.

I smiled at the pair as they entered the ball together, tapping the pads of my fingers together several times to find some sense of calm as I stepped up to the spot they had disappeared from. Felfrost was the pinnacle of celebration in Kacidon, and the ball was the culmination of every sense of revelry.

I handed my invitation to the jovial man before me, stepping underneath the large chandelier that spun lazily above the landing as his voice echoed through the grand hall?—.

“Iris Virlana of Vaelithe.”

I began my descent, ignoring the myriad of lights ahead. If I thought the staircase had looked imposing from afar, walking down proved the fact even further. I squeezed my palms together to fight the urge to check that the mantle was in place, my hair still obscuring my back fully.

Too many people were watching.

Too many eyes that could scour my body and find my secrets if I were careless.

I found myself wishing I’d accepted Aspen’s offer—bordering on insistence— to accompany me. I’d wanted to face this alone, to stand with my spine straight against a realm that had sneered at my presence at every turn. That came with ease.

No, I knew what such an appearance would mean. What he would be declaring to the realm, to Altaerra, by entering this room with someone on his arm. That declaration was something I couldn’t force upon him. Not to mention, it terrified me in ways I’d not yet begun to unspool.

If we crossed that line, it was no longer just us. The world would intrude on the oasis we’d nurtured, consequences we dared not even speak aloud to follow. And I couldn’t do that to him. We needed time. I needed time.

Despite this, I watched as Aspen Gavalon, Crown Prince of Kacidon, stepped from the shadows onto the last marble step.

Arm outstretched.

A man who hid everything precious to him away, who revealed no emotion at court lest it be used against him?—

Was standing in the light for me.

Reaching. For me.

Instead of taking his bicep, I laced our fingers together, ignoring the stares as we entered the room.

His hand was near glacial in mine, fingers leaving behind small patches of red.

“Aspen, please,” I leaned in, voice only for him. “Be here with me.” Most of the time, he didn’t even realize he was plummeting down into the cold.

His fingers squeezed mine, grounding me. “Iris,” he said through gritted teeth. “I can assure you, it is not for the reason you suspect.”

Then he leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear.

“This is the only way I will make it through the horrific act of socialization—knowing you are in that dress—without hauling you over my shoulder and taking you straight to our bed.”

I bit the inside of my cheek as we passed several couples leaning in, eager to catch fragments of our conversation. Before untangling my hand to step into the lined formation for the dance that would mark the beginning of the ball, I leaned in on last time.

“The apothecary is closer.”

I stepped back several places, taking my position as the king and queen ascended the dais above. Aspen’s eyes did not leave mine as we bowed to their arrival, the heat of his gaze searing as the wind caressed the dip below my throat.

“Wicked, brilliant woman,” he mouthed from across the space.

A wave from the queen’s hand, and the opening strings erupted into the room, each body moving in unison. The dance was similar in format to the one we had performed in Marikaim, though the arrangement differed. Aspen and I had practiced several times in the cabin to ensure I was more comfortable than I had been that night. Thankfully, it hadn’t incited the same sense of panic.

“Perhaps you should send Deyanira a gift for her troubles,” I remarked as we drew together again, fingertips steepling.

“Deyanira can have the contents of the entire fucking vault as long as you keep this dress.”

I laughed as I spun away, falling into step with the next partner down the line. Aspen and I found our way back together, then apart again, as the night wore on. Song after song rang through the glittering ballroom, and a joy that had long slumbered welled in my chest. No thoughts of failed formulas or hidden tattoos plagued my mind as we danced, the revelry drowning out the ever-present noise of consternation. I felt his eyes on me when we were apart, his breath intertwining with mine when we melded together once more.

Breaking from the revelry, I plucked a glass of wine from a nearby tray, unable to wipe the grin from my face. The sweet liquid slid down my throat as I watched the festivities, laughing to myself when I caught sight of Aspen—arm in arm with a small boy who was dancing so outlandishly that the rest of the partygoers gave him a wide berth.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Iris Virlana?”

I sucked in a breath at the arrival of Queen Genevieve, dipping into a quick curtsey before taking another sip of wine. She waved a hand, urging me to rise.

“There is no need for such formality.” She handed me another glass, her brow raised. The expression was so similar to Aspen’s that I almost stepped back.

“It is a lovely party,” I replied, accepting the flute from her gloved hand.

A hint of a frown formed as her gazed drifted toward the merriment.. Something akin to remorse shadowed her facade, and I followed her fixation to find Aspen kneeling in front of the boy. His hands rested on the child’s small shoulders as they heaved, tears falling messily down his rosy cheeks. Aspen bent close, his mouth moving rapidly as he spoke. The boy shook his head in earnest, wiping his swollen face with the palm of his hand.

“Do you think he is happy?” the queen asked quietly, watching as Aspen led the boy toward the orchestra, speaking quickly as he gestured to the different instruments.

“I think he’s trying to allow himself to be.”

The crease in her brow deepened as she absently ran a finger along the rim of her glass.

“I have not seen my son like this in a very long time.” She broke her gaze away, facing me. The crystals lining every inch of her gown caught iridescent in the glow of the sunflares, body dripping with decadence in every way. “I would be remiss to believe it is for any reason other than your presence, Iris.”

“He is a good man.”

I had no idea how else to respond. The life Aspen breathed into me was not something that could be captured with words. Peace was what he deserved. A brand on my back ensured long ago that I couldn’t give him that, as much as it pained me, but I hoped I’d returned a fraction of that life back to him too. “He deserves all that the world has to offer.”

Queen Genevieve nodded slowly. Over her shoulder, Aspen had now lifted the boy and placed him beside the violinist. The blonde woman handed her bow to the child with wide eyes. Aspen watched the pair with rapt attention, gesturing toward the ball as the child toyed with the instrument.

I understood now, acutely, why all the wars had begun. Why Lux had gone against the Divine. Why what they took from her had been the catalyst to an event that nearly destroyed the Celestos. Why love was so infinitely dangerous.

Because what force could be more powerful than this?

What wouldn’t I do for it? For him?

Our gazes locked across the room, the people passing between us nothing more than blurs in time with the music. A moment—just a breath—carved from the universe for us alone.

The spell broke, sound rushing back in as the young boy’s laughter rang out. After returning the instrument, he ran off into the crowd, all remnants of his earlier upset erased. Aspen rubbed at his jaw as he watched him leave, not even attempting to hide his soft smile.

“Your Majesty,” I said, bringing the queen out of the trance she seemed caught in, her stare unblinking. I spoke quickly, watching Aspen make his way toward us, not wanting him to be privy to this portion of our conversation. “May I speak freely?”

“You may,” she sniffed.

“I am deeply sorry for your loss. No mother should ever outlive her children.”

If my awareness of her other children surprised her, she did not show it.

“Grief is a beast that cannot be tamed, its vice grip near impossible to shake. And I am aware that it is not my place to say so,” Aspen was halfway across the ballroom now, heading straight for us.

Her crown tilted down, encouraging me to continue.

“But it would be an insult to my feelings for your son if I did not urge you to remember…” She stepped closer, silver lining her bright eyes as they widened. “One of your children is still alive. Please do not forget him. Because he will not ask you to remember him, but I am.”

She took a step forward, and I braced myself for a reprimand. A slap, even. It was overstepping every boundary to utter such a statement, but I couldn’t unsee the broken boy on the floor. The boy surrounded by ice, hands gripping onto me as if I were a lifeline, begging for his family back.

She grabbed my forearm, but the hold wasn’t bruising. Her chest heaved once, her lips trembling, a sound escaping her mouth that could only be described as anguish.

“Yes,” she exhaled just as Aspen joined her side.

“I must be leaving,” she announced, regaining her composure as Aspen pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “I need not impose on your night any longer. Enjoy yourselves.”

“Thank you, Mother,” he replied as she left, facing me.

“Hungry?”

His fingers laced into mine, tugging me to his side. Aspen’s entire body was relaxed, the ease in which he carried himself accentuated by a lopsided grin. Even if only for a night, the prince looked free. As if waiting for its cue, my stomach grumbled loudly in response.

His grin turned wicked. “I know just the place.”

Moments later, we were inside the private Arcton Palace kitchens. The room was as extravagantly decorated as the rest of the palace, with boughs of garland strewn across every available wall. A fire crackled lowly in the corner, and dozens of frosted pastries lay scattered on trays throughout the space.

Aspen wrapped his hands around my waist, lifting me onto the counter so we were eye level, before busying himself with searching the kitchens.

We were still in our formal wear, though the night had unraveled its pristine edges. My hair had loosened from the pins by my ears, small strands curling at my temples from the heat. My shoes lay forgotten in the corner of the room. Aspen had shrugged off his formal jacket, the top buttons of his tunic undone, his once-perfectly coiffed hair now tousled.

In his hand was a small strawberry tart.

“Where did you find this?” I asked, noting the lumpy dough and uneven glaze.

“Incessantly frustrating task, baking is.”

“The Frost Prince of Kacidon,” I said, biting back a laugh. “Defeated at last by a strawberry tart.”

He lifted the treat to my mouth, and it crumbled as I bit into it.

It was abysmal.

I grabbed the glass of wine to my right, downing it in one go to choke down the remnants. Aspen’s disbelieving stare flicked to the tart, narrowing as he examined it for several long moments before dumping the rest into his mouth. His eyes widened in horror as he snatched the glass from my hand, emptying it in desperate gulps until his choking eased.

“Hells, that’s atrocious,” he sputtered.

Laughter broke through me, and within seconds, we were both doubled over in the empty room, gasping between peals of mirth.

We sated our appetites on desserts he hadn’t made, becoming lost in conversation. I reminisced about the glade he had taken me to in the Tundra, the ballroom’s decorations reminding me of the way the icicles had shimmered under the moonlight.

“I wanted to dance with you that night,” he said quietly, looking up from where he leaned against the counter. “You were so free, so joyful. All I could think about was how much I wanted to experience that with you.”

“That night,” I breathed, falling into the memory. “It was the first time I saw you smile. Really smile.”

I’d decided in that moment that there was nothing I wouldn’t do to see it again.

His pale eyebrow arched, a glimmer of realization sparking. He had always watched me so carefully, so deliberately, but now he saw—I had been watching just as intently.

“It was the first time in a very long while that I didn’t have to try to.”

His gaze drifted down the length of my body, and for once, there was nothing guarded in his expression. Only the openness I craved.

“I would like to make up for missing my opportunity to dance with you.”

“We danced multiple times tonight, Prince,” I laughed.

He pushed away from the counter, covering the distance in two strides, his hand outstretched. “Those dances were for them,” he countered. “This is for us.”

My fingers instinctively found the locket resting against my chest.

“Iris Virlana, may I have this dance?” he asked, tilting his head toward me.

“There’s no music,” I teased.

He angled his body forward, stepping between my legs, his hand still hovering between us. “We don’t need it,” he whispered against my jaw.

Aspen pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, waiting for my answer.

I rested my hand in his, nodding softly. “I’d like nothing more.”

Reaching up, I straightened his crown, centering the jewel-encrusted silver atop his white strands. Something I couldn’t place flashed across his features, but instead of stopping me, he reached up and pulled the circlet off. More than the weight of the crown pressed against my curls. Unwavering, Aspen stared, far past anything visible to the world. Down into the very depths of my stained-glass soul. “Aspen, I can’t…” I reached up, running my fingers across the cool metal.

Placing a kiss to my brow, he whispered against my skin. “It suits you much more.”

His arm wound around my waist, pulling me closer as I slid from the counter. He bowed at the waist, the gesture so intimate my chest ached. I tucked one ankle behind the other, dipped my head slightly, and bent into a curtsey.

When I straightened, he used the connection of our hands to pull me nearer, placing my hand on his shoulder. One of his hands settled on the small of my back, the other clasping mine and raising it beside us.

Sunflares glinted around us, the holiday lights twinkling in the dimly lit space.

Without hesitation, I summoned several golden Threads, weaving them around our embrace. A private oasis, untouched by obligations, secrets, or fate. The power sang—our own personal ballad—and in that moment, using it felt as natural as breathing.

We swayed to the rhythm of our shared movements, eyes locked. The beading of my dress skimmed across the marble floor.

We moved through the steps we had danced earlier in the night, but now there were no lingering eyes, no scrutinizing stares. We took our time. We pressed closer. Aspen placed fleeting kisses against my temple, my knuckles, my shoulder. We pushed and pulled, spinning and dipping, my training from Solyndra more than enough to keep pace with his effortless leading. Two royals, moving as one.

The only sound that broke through the gentle hum of the Threads was an uninhibited squeal of laughter as he gripped my waist and lifted me above his head, turning in a circle.

Eventually, my head came to rest against his chest, my chin brushing the scarred skin exposed by his open tunic. He pulled me tighter, our steps growing simpler, settling into a slow, easy sway.

I’d always thought something of this magnitude would feel simple. Sweet. A first sip of freshly brewed tea, the soft caress of a spring breeze.

Then I met him.

And nothing was simple.

With Aspen, everything felt vast. Storms raged inside my heart, full of crackling lightning and roaring thunder. Winds whipped at my hair, carried my feet, until I crashed into his arms, laughing at the sting of the frigid air. Never-ending fires licked at my bones, their flames threatening to consume me alive. A warm glow settled into my chest, growing, expanding—until it burst forth with the might of a thousand suns.

What I once wanted—what I once expected from a great love—was minuscule compared to this.

I didn’t want simple.

I wanted to revel in the unknown, to smile among the frenzied sea, to sleep soundly amidst the chaos.

To be exactly who I was without chipping away pieces of my soul in order to be more palatable. He never made me feel as if I had to be less . Not less loud. Not less passionate. Not less angry or less sad.

He met me with his own temper, his own fire, his own unbridled, imperfect self.

And when we collided, the world shuddered beneath the vastness.

I had never felt safer than surrounded by the tempest we created.