A blade of light sliced through the tent flap as Cassius pulled it aside. I recoiled, squinting as the sudden brightness flooded the dark space. The sun’s warmth was immediate, a welcome weight on my skin.

As my vision swam into focus, a symphony of life unfolded before me. Elves, their arms linked, wove in rhythmic, hypnotic circles. A melody of silver flutes and honeyed lutes rose around their joyful singing, their movements a breathtaking, fluid entity. Near a crackling fire, others stirred a great cauldron, and the air tasted of woodsmoke and wild herbs. The entire clearing hummed, a living thing woven from the laughter of children and the warm murmur of conversation. It was a wave of pure elation, and a laugh bubbled up in my chest, unbidden, as it washed over me.

My attention snagged on the warmth of Cassius’s hand, his fingers laced through mine. His thumb traced lazy circles on my skin, a small, grounding gesture in the joyful chaos. I glanced up at him. The celebration was reflected in his eyes, a radiant smile transforming his face when he met my gaze.

Just then, the curious little elf from earlier, Elain, scampered toward us, his brown hair a tousled mess from play. His eyes, one a clear sky-blue, the other a vibrant leaf-green, sparkled with mischief. I’d never seen a combination so captivating; it was like he held two different seasons in his gaze.

“I have this for you,” he chirped, his voice bright as a bird’s. He held up a delicate crown woven from wildflowers of the deepest blues and purples. Their scent was a heady rush of night-blooming jasmine and dew-kissed lavender. “May I place it on your head?”

“Of course,” I breathed, sinking to my knees to meet his height. He let out a delighted giggle, his small hands surprisingly gentle as he settled the crown atop my hair.

“Perfect!” he declared, puffing out his chest with pride before turning to his king. “Cassius, you need one, too!”

Cassius chuckled, a low, warm sound. He bent down without a word, a silent invitation for the young elf—Elain—to place a similar crown in his dark hair. Rising, Cassius held my gaze for a long moment before he gave the boy a grateful pat on the head. “Thank you, Elain.”

“You’re welcome!” the boy beamed. “I have more to deliver!” And with that, he vanished back into the throng.

Cassius faced me, the flowers a startling splash of midnight color against his hair. That brilliant smile never left his face as his eyes drank me in. In that moment, the world narrowed. The past, my worries, the crackling fire—it all faded into a soft, pleasant blur, leaving only the sound of the music and the man standing before me. He offered his hand once more, palm open and inviting.

“Would you care to dance, Thalia?” he asked, his voice a warm current in the cheerful air.

My feet felt leaden. “I… I don’t know how,” I confessed, my head shaking slightly as I watched the other elves spin past, their faces incandescent with happiness.

“That’s alright,” he murmured, his gaze a steady anchor. “I’ll teach you.”

His confidence was a tangible force. I exhaled slowly and placed my hand in his. Taking it as my assent, he led me toward the flowing river of dancers. A few elves noticed their king and offered a respectful bow of the head without missing a step. Others were so lost to the rhythm they didn’t see us as we slipped into an opening in the circle.

Facing me, Cassius took my hands, showing me how to link our arms in the style of the dance. The music was a gentle current at first, pulling us into the tide of the larger circle. The tempo steadily built, and then, as if guided by a single thought, the entire circle paused.

“Now, lift your other hand to mine,” Cassius instructed, his voice low and meant only for me.

I did, and a soft warmth bloomed where our palms met. He guided my first hesitant steps, and the melody swelled, washing over me. I don’t know when it happened—the moment I stopped trying to follow and simply let myself be led—but the distinction blurred and then vanished. It wasn’t his lead and my follow anymore; it was a shared breath, a single pulse. We moved as one, caught in the accelerating rhythm, his dark hair catching the light like threads of spun shadow. His gaze was fixed on mine, intense and unwavering.

A giddy delight fluttered through me. I felt as if I’d been dancing this way for a hundred years. The other dancers, the camp, the world itself—it all dissolved, leaving only the two of us suspended in the heart of the music.

Then, the rhythm shifted, the frantic pace slowing to a gentle, lingering cadence. The world rushed back in, piece by piece, as our movements eased to a stop. I stood before him, my breathing shaky, my chest rising and falling with the breathless, dizzying joy of the dance.

“You were wonderful,” he said, his own voice as breathless as mine.

“That’s because I had an excellent teacher,” I replied, stepping closer so my words wouldn’t be lost. A playful smirk touched his lips, and I felt my own mouth curve in response.

“You’re simply a natural,” he retorted, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

His smile was a fragile thing. As my gaze drifted over his shoulder, I saw it for the first time. While many elves still beamed with simple joy, other looks were different. It wasn’t hostility, not yet. It was something cooler, more unnerving: a sharp, assessing curiosity. Their gazes lingered on me, weighing and measuring. The warmth of the moment began to chill, and my smile faltered.

Cassius felt the shift in me instantly. He leaned closer, his presence becoming a shield. “Ignore them, Thalia,” he whispered, his voice firm. “You are with me.” He held my gaze, a silent promise in his eyes. “Dance with me again.”

My heart, which had just begun to calm, hammered against my ribs. I made a choice. I let the stares and whispers dissolve. I let the crackle of the fire and the murmurs of the crowd fade away until all that remained was him, his hand in mine, and the hopeful swell of the music.

The melody that rose to meet us was wilder, unrestrained. We no longer held hands but danced freely, a whirlwind of motion. I felt the thrumming beat move through my very bones as I twirled, lost in the pure, untamed energy of the moment.

But it was short-lived. With a final, discordant clang, the music didn’t just stop—it shattered. A heavy, profound silence crashed down over the clearing. From the edge of the crowd, five elves emerged, stalking toward us. The celebrants parted before them like a receding tide, a silent, shuffling path clearing their way.

A cold dread coiled in my stomach. A tremor started in my hand, and I balled my fist in the fabric of my pants, desperate to hide my fear. I risked a glance at Cassius. His expression had transformed. The warmth was gone, replaced by a mask of chiseled stone. He drew himself up, every inch the king, his regal bearing a silent, unyielding challenge.

My gaze snapped back to the approaching elves. Their faces were as cold and impassive as carved ice, their eyes betraying no flicker of emotion. The joy of moments before had completely evaporated, replaced by a palpable chill that seeped deep into my bones.

Once they stood before Cassius, the five bowed as one—a stiff, formal gesture. “Our king,” their voices were a single, low resonance.

The elf at their center straightened, his gaze locked on Cassius. “We must speak with you. In private.”

“Very well,” Cassius replied, his voice dangerously calm. He gave me a subtle nod. “But Thalia comes with us.”

“She is an outsider,” one of the others retorted, his shock breaking through his composure.

“She is my guest,” Cassius’s voice sliced through the tension, sharp as obsidian. “Her place is with me. And you will not question my decision.”

The elf flinched as if struck. “My apologies, Your Majesty,” he murmured, his composure cracking to reveal a flush of unease.

Just then, a familiar figure pushed through the parting crowd. Long, blonde hair fell over his shoulders, and his green eyes seemed fiercer than I remembered. It was Vorian, Cassius’s friend.

“Then I will join as well,” Vorian declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The lead elf’s jaw tightened, but he gave a curt nod. “Fine. Follow us.”

As we were led away from the firelight, the music tentatively started up again behind us, a feeble attempt to mend the broken joy. But it couldn’t drown out the sound that truly filled the air: the hushed whispers that followed us like a venomous current in our wake.