A guard stood outside Aryel’s door, nodding to Corinne once. She turned and paced a bit toward the breezeway as she waited. Aryel had insisted on being left alone most of the day in preparation for the evening, and Corinne couldn’t blame him.

  She turned quickly when the door opened, her hands clasped behind her back. Aryel emerged in a deep blue shirt covered in silver embroidered moons and stars, tucked into loose black trousers that flowed to the floor around his black-sandaled feet. The deep V of the shirt’s collar allowed his tattoos to peek out more than they usually did.

  Corinne kicked herself internally for gawking at him right as she noticed his lips part slightly as he looked her up and down.

  “Evening,” Corinne said, glad for the darkness should her face give anything away. “Happy birthday.”

  Aryel took a moment too long to respond. “Thank you.”

  “Shall we go?”

  He merely nodded, quietly dismissing his guard before joining Corinne. They set off side by side, and he held the door for her as she swept through, mindful of her skirts. The dress might support her free movement, but it still wasn’t nearly as practical as trousers. She’d thought it more closely resembled what a Lightguard may wear, like their robes, but perhaps that choice had been a mistake.

  “You look lovely,” Aryel said quietly, and Corinne’s stomach flipped pleasantly, her neck warming.

  “Thank you,” she said. They continued on in excruciating silence for another corridor before Corinne asked, “You’re twenty-eight today?”

  “I am,” he said. “This will be the tenth year my mother has thrown festivities like this.”

  “I don’t envy you,” Corinne said, her body relaxing some as they eased into normal conversation.

  “What do Lightguards do on their birthday, anyway?”

  “Most years we are allowed to spend the day as we please.” Corinne lifted her skirts as they started down a stairwell, holding the railing with her other hand. “But our twenty-fifth year is sacred—it’s the year we are old enough to accept the oath to Helaera and become Anointed. For mine last year, I spent the day in the mountains praying.”

  “I would much prefer that to this.”

  Corinne laughed. “It was certainly more peaceful. And it’s always beautiful up there in autumn.”

  “So your birthday is in autumn?”

  “Mid-autumn,” she said. “When the leaves have changed.”

  “That’s my favorite time of year,” he said.

  They reached the first floor, and the buzzing sound of a crowd drifted to meet them from down the corridor.

  Aryel turned to Corinne. “Remember, you don’t have to dance with anyone unless you wish to,” he said.

  “How would I dance with anyone if I’m supposed to be watching you?” Corinne asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  Aryel grinned wolfishly. “Excellent point. I suppose you can only dance with me.”

  “Only if you need rescuing from someone else,” Corinne said, rolling her eyes.

  “I almost certainly will,” Aryel said, setting off again, this time a few paces ahead of Corinne as they approached the ballroom. He glanced over his shoulder. “Good thing I taught you how.”

  Corinne shook her head. If she recalled the steps from days ago, it would be a miracle.

  Two guards stood on either side of the ballroom doors, opening them with a bow at Aryel’s arrival. A wall of sound rushed into them, music and chatter and shifting feet, and Corinne forgot how to breathe as they stepped inside.

  Floor-to-ceiling windows offered views of Vytanos and the star-smattered indigo sky above the surrounding mountains. Paper lanterns with cutouts of crescent moons were placed in the windowsills, and every sconce had been lit along the walls. Dozens of people were already milling about, holding wine or some other sparkling liquid in narrow glasses, and crystal chandeliers—Corinne counted eight—hung from the ornately carved ceiling. At the far end of the long hall, two thrones stood before a window, and upon a slightly lower dais to their left was a little stage where an octet of musicians played stringed instruments, drums, and a flute. Directly to her left by the entrance was a massive table piled with food and rows of drinks.

  How on Helaera’s earth was Corinne going to keep track of Aryel amidst all this?

  “Come on, Sunshine,” Aryel said, beckoning her forward.

  Corinne almost didn’t hear him over the noise. She forced herself to focus and followed him off to the left side of the crowd. Many nobles greeted him as he passed, offering birthday wishes, and he accepted them graciously but continued forward. Corinne kept her eyes trained on his back, ignoring the stares that followed her. It didn’t matter what any of them thought about her—she was here to do her duty and guard Aryel.

  Aryel continued forward until he’d reached the far side of the ballroom, passing the musicians and approaching his parents. Queen Erina stood with a bright smile at his approach, descending the dais to embrace her son.

  “Happy birthday, Aryel,” she said. She wore a deep blue gown with silver stitching that matched the embroidery on Aryel’s shirt, and delicate silver organza sleeves that cinched at her wrists. Her crown was more ornate tonight, the crescent moons and stars sparkling with iridescent deep purple stones. “Do enjoy the festivities tonight.”

  King Theo stood from his throne as well, and Corinne tensed, nearly reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. His attire was coordinated with his wife’s and son’s, deep blue and embroidered, but the neckline of his fine shirt was not nearly as low as Aryel’s. He stepped down from the throne with a box in hand, holding it out to Queen Erina as he stopped before Aryel.

  “Happy birthday, Aryel,” he said, unsmiling.

  The queen opened the box, and the king retrieved a crown from within. It wasn’t as intricate as his own, nor was it encrusted with fine stones, but the silver had been woven together beautifully, dipping at the front into a delicate crescent moon.

  Corinne’s muscles went taut as Aryel bowed before his father, allowing the king to place the crown on his head. Rationally, she knew the king wouldn’t dare harm his son in such a public setting, but seeing him so close put her on edge anyway.

  Once the crown settled on Aryel’s head, the moon resting in the center of his forehead, he straightened again. Several nobles, who had been nearby, watched the exchange between the king and prince but did not approach or say anything.

  “It suits you so well,” Queen Erina said, clapping her hands together with a smile.

  She approached the musicians, waving at them, and they ceased playing at once. The murmurs of the crowd dissipated gradually, and Corinne turned, realizing that every eye in the room was now upon the royal family. She swallowed and forced herself to breathe. So many people facing her direction made her feel like a weight had been placed on her chest. Just keep an eye on Aryel. Stay the course. Be the Light.

  “Friends!” Queen Erina called, her voice echoing around the room. “Thank you for joining us tonight as honored guests. We know this year’s celebration of our prince’s birthday is a little unusual, so we wanted to provide you with a night you surely won’t forget. And since you’re all already staying in the castle, you are welcome to remain at the festivities for as long as you wish!”

  An appreciative chuckle rumbled through the crowd. Corinne forced herself to take a breath again. It was likely they’d be here very late into the night, and she couldn’t get overwhelmed when the party had barely begun.

  “A toast,” the queen said, raising her glass, and everyone in the room did the same. “To Prince Aryel Serra, Heir to Ashera. May Helaera bless him with another twenty-eight years and more.”

  Murmurs of “May Helaera bless him” sounded from nearly everyone in the room. Corinne fought the urge to cringe—such a public display of prayer in such a debaucherous setting made her skin crawl. Though…it was not the place of everyday people to know the ways of the Lightguards and act as true servants of the Goddess.

  The music began again, a lively tune with a soaring flute, and many of the guests parted from the room’s center to make space for others to begin dancing. A young woman in a burgundy gown approached Aryel almost immediately, her face shy but hopeful, and he offered her his hand. As they joined several others on the dance floor, Corinne scanned the crowd beyond. She spotted Petros and Elys, both with noblewomen on their arms, and Lana stood farther back by her parents and Janus. Corinne looked away from them, returning her attention to Aryel and the noble girl dancing with him.

  “Having a good time?”

  Corinne turned, her heart leaping at the sight of Danai grinning at her. They were dressed in attire similar to Aryel’s, a low-cut forest-green shirt and flowing black trousers. Their hair was braided into a twist at the nape of their neck, their eyes outlined in black kohl.

  “Danai,” Corinne said, glancing at Aryel again, just to be safe. “You look beautiful.”

  “Don’t they?”

  Nik appeared out of the crowd, grinning and placing a hand over Danai’s shoulders before kissing their temple and handing them a glass of wine. Nik’s shirt and trousers were all black, simple but elegant, and silver hoop earrings in his ears matched the frames of his glasses.

  “I didn’t know you two would be here,” Corinne said, watching as another noble approached Aryel. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized it was Petros.

  “Nobles and councilors received an invitation,” Danai said. “And permission to bring a guest.”

  “Oh.” Corinne looked to her friends again. “I’m glad they did that. Have either of you heard from Iliana?”

  “She’s still on leave until tomorrow,” Nik said. “But Aeson is doing well.”

  “Thank the Goddess,” Corinne said.

  “I suppose you’re not here for your own enjoyment this evening,” Danai said, taking a sip of wine and glancing over at the prince.

  “No,” Corinne said, watching as Aryel and Petros danced and laughed.

  A bit more of the tension within her eased; at least he was smiling and spending time with friends.

  “Well, even so, you look absolutely stunning,” Danai said.

  Corinne blushed furiously. “T-thank you.”

  “I’m sure Prince Aryel agrees with me.”

  “Danai,” Nik hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  Corinne coughed once. “The prince has no need to take notice of my appearance.”

  “Corinne,” Danai said incredulously, raising an eyebrow. They lowered their voice. “He was beside himself at Iliana’s after you fainted. And he’s looked at you about five times since we started speaking.”

  Sure enough, when Corinne turned to the prince again, Aryel’s eyes were on her. He looked away when their eyes met, his attention back on Petros, who spun him around unexpectedly, drawing another laugh from him.

  “I promised him I’d keep an eye out for any unsavory nobles,” Corinne said. “He’s probably checking to make sure I’m paying attention.”

  “I’m not—” Danai cut off at a squeeze around their shoulders from Nik. They sighed. “Fine. Shall we join the dancing?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Nik said, taking Danai’s empty wine glass and passing it to a servant who was walking through at that very moment. “Thank you.”

  The servant bowed, and Nik pulled Danai onto the dance floor. Corinne remained on the outskirts of the room, making her way around nearly half the perimeter of the dancing before the music shifted. A noble girl in bright orange approached Aryel then, and another fast-paced tune began. Corinne didn’t know how they kept up with the steps to such a dance, but a small part of her now wished to learn. Everyone was grinning or laughing as the song continued, and Corinne found herself humming along to the music, the melody easy enough to pick out.

  “Is that gown Faye’s work?”

  Corinne looked to the noblewoman who had addressed her and recognized her as Elys’s mother. Her dress was the color of steel, the fabric tight and flattering against her ample curves.

  “Yes,” Corinne said, remembering herself.

  “Exquisite,” she said. “And your tattoos…are you from Cara Talle?”

  Corinne forced herself not to react. “That’s where I was born, yes, but I was raised in the monastery.”

  “I see,” she said. “Well, the ink is lovely. My father was from there.”

  Corinne plastered a polite smile on her face and nodded. The woman walked off, and Corinne returned to her task. The song ended on a low, soft chord, and many of the dancers dispersed, ready for a reprieve after several numbers. Aryel did the same, greeting a few nobles as he made his way to Corinne.

  I’m sure Prince Aryel would agree. Why had Danai put that notion into her head?

  “Holding up all right?” Aryel asked when he reached her, and Corinne followed him to the food table close to the ballroom entrance.

  “Well enough,” Corinne said. “You?”

  “Wonderfully,” he said, retrieving a small baked pastry of some kind and popping it into his mouth. He leaned against the table, surveying the room. “You know you can eat if you’d like to.”

  Corinne’s eyes darted to the bite-sized delicacies on the table, unable to deny she was hungry. She reached for one of the same little pastries Aryel had eaten. Biting into it was like heaven; it was some miniature savory pie with cheese and herbs. Aryel laughed quietly beside her, and she looked at him, perplexed.

  “They’re good, aren’t they?” he asked.

  Corinne smiled sheepishly. “How do you not eat fifty of them?”

  “Oh, trust me, if I had my way, I would,” Aryel said. “But I’m afraid that’s not considered appropriate.”

  Corinne ate another one, shaking her head. “You should be able to eat whatever you want. It’s your birthday.”

  “I agree.”

  Another song began as Corinne finished a third bite-sized pie, and Aryel straightened.

  “I love this piece,” he said. He turned to Corinne, hesitating a moment before holding out his hand. “Dance with me?”

  Corinne glanced around briefly. “No one else is approaching you.”

  “I know,” he said, his mouth tugging upward on one side.

  “I thought you said⁠—”

  “Come on, Sunshine,” he said. “It’s my birthday.”

  Corinne stared at him for several more thundering heartbeats. She would regret this.

  She placed her hand in his and let him lead her to the dance floor.

  “This one has the same counts as the one we practiced,” he said, taking her right hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

  Corinne placed her other hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid his bare skin where his shirt dipped. Her mind went entirely blank for several moments when he tugged her closer by the small of her back, his fingers pressing into her.

  “Just follow my lead.”

  Corinne didn’t have a choice, anyway—once the intro to the music led into the main piece, they were moving. She couldn’t think about anything but following his steps, the feeling of his hand on her back, the brush of his thighs against hers. It was slow and simple enough, but Corinne’s heart was beating so fast she might as well have been doing the livelier dances from earlier. She looked up at Aryel after a few moments and found that same look in his eyes from the night she’d healed his face.

  Her stomach flipped again.

  Had Danai been right? She’d fought her own attraction to him so doggedly that it hadn’t really occurred to her that he might feel the same way around her. The way he moved with her as they danced, his touch gentle but steady, his hips so close to hers as they swayed⁠—

  Oh, Goddess above. Control yourself, Corinne. But that look in his eyes was like a battering ram to her bastion of self-discipline.

  Before Corinne could regain her composure, he twirled her outward, the skirts of her dress spiraling around her legs elegantly. He pulled her back toward him the next moment, and a little smile tugged at her lips. She took a breath and glanced over his shoulder.

  Her smile disappeared.

  Four new guests had just arrived, three garbed in white robes with gold accents. Corinne froze in place seconds before the music ended, and Aryel glanced down at her.

  “Corinne? Is everything all right?”

  Her blood had turned to ice in her veins. She released Aryel, dropping her hands, and he dropped his in turn, his gaze following hers as partygoers shuffled around them, either entering or leaving the dance floor.

  “Oh, hells,” he muttered. “Are those…?”

  “Lightguards,” Corinne whispered.

  Mother Creita’s eyes landed on her, then, as if she’d heard her. Her disapproving expression turned absolutely livid for a half second before she smoothed her face into a mask of serenity again. Behind her stood Chala and Bria, and beside them was a familiar face that once would have brought Corinne great comfort, and now only sent a knife of grief between her ribs.

  Vera. She was due at the castle the following morning, but Corinne had hoped tonight would distract her from that fact.

  Corinne stood as straight as she could as Mother Creita and the others approached her and Aryel, trying to hide her arm behind her skirts. The crowd around them parted easily for the Priestesses and Vera, a few of them watching with interest while others ignored them after a cursory glance.

  “Corinne,” Mother Creita said, her voice smooth.

  Corinne bowed. Please don’t look down. Please don’t look down.

  “Mother Creita,” she said. She gestured to Aryel. “This is Prince Aryel Serra.”

  “It is an honor to meet the heir of Ashera,” Mother Creita said, bowing, and the others did the same.

  “Likewise,” Aryel said. “An honor to meet the Lightguards responsible for treating Corinne with such love and respect.”

  Even if her fellow Lightguards didn’t catch the edge to his voice, Corinne did. Don’t be a fool, Ari.

  “Please,” Aryel said, gesturing away from the dance floor as people gathered to start another number. “Allow me to introduce you to my parents.”