A living flame.
I swallow hard, and she moves with them, untamed, her copper hair spilling over her shoulders, her bare arms lifting as she spins, feet kicking, and her voice rising to chant with the others as they call out to their goddess.
She twirls, her head tipped back. She looks like something otherworldly, a creature born of moonlight and fire.
And then, somehow, impossibly, she looks up and finds me in the shadows.
Chapter 37
VANN
Our eyes meet across the clearing.
Arlet’s breath stutters, her chest rising and falling. The flush of exertion paints her cheeks.
She gestures me forward, and I shake my head, remembering the warning from the others.
I see the exact moment she decides to break away.
And, somehow, no one notices.
The witches are lost to the rhythm. Their bodies twist—hands grasping the air and feet pounding the earth in a fevered trance. The firelight pulses over their moving forms, their laughter curling into the night like mist. She could vanish, and they wouldn’t see. Wouldn’t care.
And she does.
She slips through them, her green and pink dress catching the light, flashing between bodies like a living ember. Then she’s in front of me, her fingers catching my bicep and searing my skin.
But instead of gratitude, her eyes blaze.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she breathes. “They told me it would be dangerous. Uncontrolled magic can quickly turn malevolent.”
“I wanted to make sure they didn’t hurt you.”
Her chest heaves and her pupils widen. She sways slightly whenthe rhythm shifts, as if the drumbeats had buried themselves beneath her skin.
As if they live inside her now.
She bites her lip, then smiles again.
“Then let’s get out of here before they see me with you,” she purrs.
Before I can speak, she grips my wrist and pulls.
No hesitation. No fear. Only movement.
“We need to be careful. They say it is dangerous without an escort,” I huff, bounding behind her.
“We won’t go into any houses or dark corners,” she responds over her shoulder.
The glow of exotic plants illuminates her bare shoulders and her unbound hair, which has curled in the humidity. She’s half-running, half-laughing as she moves.
I let her drag me deeper into the dark, past trees thick with hanging vines, the ground warm beneath our feet. When she finally stops, she turns to me, eyes gleaming in the low light.
"Do you remember what you said?" she murmurs.
I swallow hard. "I've said a lot of things to you."
“That I gave you back a piece of yourself.” She shakes her head, stepping closer, until I can feel the heat rolling off her skin. “I’ve never had anyone care about me the way you do. Never have I known someone to push me to be better. To voice what I want so they could… give it to me.”