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The song ends, and I watch Elora throw her head back with laughter, offering another round of applause for the music. The urge to be near her, to touch her, overrides anything else, and I move along the edge of the crowd toward where she stands, accepting a fresh cup of ale.
I barely acknowledge the murmured words of greeting as I pass people, too intent on my goal. When I finally reach her, she finds me immediately in the crowd. As if she’s as drawn to me as I am to her. She throws back the rest of her ale and sets her cup on a nearby table laden with food.
“Do you plan on hiding in the shadows all evening?”
“I’m not hiding. I’m watching.”
She looks around us, standing just beyond the light of the fire, the dancing flames casting long shadows, and raises a brow.
“Could have fooled me. Why did you come if you were just going to skulk about and make everyone uncomfortable?”
I dart a look at the people standing closest to us, talking and teasing until they realize they’ve caught my eye and scurry away.
“I told you they don’t want me here.”
“You could try being a little more personable.” She holds out a hand to me. “Dance with me, Thieran.”
The words are softly spoken, and they have all the more impact for it. I reach for her hand and lead her into the square as the song changes again. I know this one. It’s an ancient tune. And I remember the steps to it well enough.
Slipping my arm around Elora’s waist, I draw her close, much closer than the song requires, and feel her warm breath against my neck. She grips my shoulder, her fingers curling into the fabric of my robes.
“Do you know this one?” I ask as the other dancers begin to swirl and dip around us.
“Of course.”
I grin before spinning us into the first steps. She follows my lead perfectly, her movements fluid and sure. She steps closer to avoid another couple, and her scent is intoxicating, spiced ale and the honeysuckle soap she prefers.
When the song finishes, I’m reluctant to let her go, but she moves away to catch her breath, eyes shining as she laughs.
“You’re a better dancer than I thought.”
There’s a teasing note to her voice, and I can’t help but chuckle. “I’ve been alive long enough to practice here and there.”
Another song begins, and she takes my hand, but rather than dance, she leads me back to the edge of the crowd. She releases me but doesn’t move away, her body brushing mine.
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“Am I?”
I catch a wayward piece of hair as it blows across her face and tuck it behind her ear, tracing my fingertip down the edge of her jaw to her chin and tilting her face up.
“You are,” she says softly. “I never know what you might do next.”
I lean down to kiss her, but someone calls her name and she leaps away from me, making me frown. An elderly woman draped in a shawl that looks vaguely familiar approaches us, and I bid her remain standing when she tries to curtsy.
“You look beautiful, my lady,” the woman says, and Elora squirms under the title.
“Thank you, Dania. And please, I’ve asked you to call me Elora.”
“I’m sorry, my lady. Old habits are hard to break. But I am glad to see you. And you, my lord. You honor us with your presence.”
“The honor is mine.”
Dania beams at that. She’s been in the Shadow Realm a long time, attending feast days longer than Elora’s been alive. She’s never wanted to reincarnate, and I sense she’s waiting for her family to arrive before making such a decision.
“I made the boiled sweets you like so much,” Dania says to Elora.
“Raspberry?”
