CHAPTER 35: DANCE

The Town Hall loomed across from Chief Warren’s residence, its towering pillars lit by lanterns that burned bright against the darkening sky. Where the chief’s building carried authority, the hall radiated grandeur—its sheer size enough to dwarf everything around it.

Even from a distance, Edward could hear the hum of celebration. The square outside had been transformed into a festival of its own. Vendors lined the edges, selling sweetmeats and steaming bread, while children darted between dancers twirling in the open air. Banners dyed in the royal crest hung from the balconies, fluttering in the evening breeze. Drunken laughter mixed with the lively music of flutes and fiddles, the townsfolk already swept into the tide of revelry.

Edward’s eyes swept over the crowd, cataloguing the soldiers posted at intervals, the cloaked figures tucked into shadowed corners, the routes that might serve as exits if the night turned sour. Aeris, by contrast, strode forward with her usual composure, as though she had walked through doors like these a hundred times before.

At the entrance, two guards in polished breastplates stopped them only long enough to glance at the invitations. The moment the wax seals were revealed, the guards stiffened to attention and stepped aside.

Inside, the air shifted.

Gold and crimson dominated the grand chamber.

Red carpets unfurled across the polished stone floor, leading deeper into the hall, while long tables gleamed beneath golden cloths. Crystal chandeliers bathed the space in warm light, scattering reflections like stars across the crowd.

Beyond the tables, an empty square yawned open, flanked by twin staircases descending into the dance hall below. Already the chamber pulsed with life—nobles in silk and velvet, their words laced with laughter as they drifted in clusters, their movements practised and poised.

Edward lingered near the entrance, every muscle taut. He scanned each face, noting the set of shoulders, the subtle glances exchanged, the weight of jeweled daggers at hips. Aeris, however, walked among them without hesitation. Her head held high, her stride measured, as if she might have been born to such company.

"Edward," a familiar voice called.

Chief Warren approached with a wide smile, his grey beard neatly trimmed for the occasion. His wife accompanied him, a stately woman in a gown of deep violet, her eyes sharp as polished glass.

"Welcome," the chief said warmly, clasping Edward’s shoulder before turning to Aeris and offering her a curt nod.

Aeris inclined her head with quiet grace. Almost at once, the chief’s wife drew her into a conversation, her tone brisk but courteous. Aeris followed her lead with ease, offering replies that flowed as smoothly as the wine being poured nearby.

The chief guided Edward a step aside, his expression slipping from host to confidant. "Any new developments?" he asked in a low voice.

Edward shook his head. "None. The city’s been quiet. Too quiet."

Warren nodded grimly. "Aye. Quiet never ends well."

That was all there was to say. After a brief clasp of shoulders, the chief turned back toward his wife, leaving Edward to his solitude.

He drifted toward the staircase, pausing at its crest. From here, he could see the dancers below, their gowns and cloaks swirling like petals caught in the wind. The music rose and fell, a tide of strings and brass, while laughter bubbled up like champagne.

Edward leaned against the railing, his gaze distant. The world spun merrily below him, yet his thoughts sharpened, tracing possibilities, contingencies and unseen dangers.

"Care for a dance?"

The voice snapped his attention back to the present.

He turned, and his breath caught.

Seraphine stood beside him.

Her black silk dress clung to her form, the long slit revealing her olive legs with every subtle shift of her stance. Her hair was swept up elegantly, loose strands framing her painted eyes, where dark liner drew attention to the mischievous gleam beneath.

For a moment too long, Edward stared.

"I almost thought you were going to miss the banquet," he said finally, tearing his gaze away.

Her smile curved wider as she noticed his long gaze. Without waiting for an answer, she slipped her hand through his arm and tugged him down the stairs.

The dance hall opened around them. The music softened into a lilting waltz, and Seraphine pulled him close. His hands found her waist instinctively, his steps remembering enough of a rhythm to keep them afloat. They swayed among the crowd, her eyes flickering up at him with amusement.

"Any trouble during your shopping?" Edward asked, his tone quiet but probing.

"No." Her answer came with a light shrug. "Perhaps they’ve forgotten about me."

The hopeful note in her voice rang hollow. Edward’s brow furrowed, though he said nothing. He had lived long enough to know danger did not forget so easily.

A few minutes passed, and the two of them turned with the crowd. Then, abruptly, Seraphine stilled.

"Let’s grab a drink," she said, tugging him back toward the stairs.

As they ascended, Edward’s eyes swept the hall once more.

Aeris stood with a cluster of nobles, her face carefully composed, but her eyes betrayed the weariness of someone enduring a slow torture.

Nearby, Chief Warren was locked in a heated exchange with his wife, her sharp words scolding him into sheepish silence. Edward chuckled under his breath, the sight oddly humanising for the man so many respected.

Then the sound of a bell rang clear across the chamber.

All conversation stilled, and every head turned toward the long tables.

At their end, a young man stood on a raised platform, his posture confident yet relaxed.

Prince Arthur.

His attire matched the hall’s theme, crimson and gold catching the chandelier light. A silver goblet gleamed in his hand as he raised it high.

"Welcome, everyone!" His voice carried easily over the hall. "I wanted to take this moment to thank you for joining us tonight, and to say—may you enjoy the evening to its fullest."

The crowd responded with applause, glasses lifted in unison.

As the sound swelled, Edward’s gaze met the prince’s. For the briefest instant, recognition flickered.

And then the prince stepped down from the platform. His strides were sure and purposeful, carrying him through the crowd like a man who already knew his destination.

Edward’s stomach tightened.

"Seraphine," he said quietly, his eyes still fixed on the approaching figure. "Go speak with Aeris."

She turned, confusion flashing, and her lips parting to protest. But the intent in his voice and the sight of the prince closing in cut her short. She nodded once, reluctant but obedient, and drifted away toward Aeris.

Edward stood alone as the prince stopped before him.

"Good to see you again, Edward," the Prince said.

And the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.