Page 100 of Daughter of No Worlds

And I also noticed the way that his gaze dipped down my body. Ran back up.

“This was smart,” he said. Too-casually. “The dress.”

I batted my eyelashes. “Oh? Is that all it is?”

“Don’t pretend that you need me to stroke your ego. You know you look good.” Then he glanced over my shoulder and raised his eyebrows. “Everyone knows it, apparently.”

I followed his gaze to a cluster of people who looked at us a little too long to be accidental before hurriedly turning away. “I think you’re making an impression,” Max said. His eyes flicked away, off towards the cluster of activity around Zeryth, and I wasn’t sure whether I imagined the change in his voice as he added, “The dance was smart, too. You two put on quite a show.”

“I do not know if it worked. If he’ll listen.”

“If nothing else, it got you plenty of attention. No one can count on Zeryth suddenly developing a sense of moral decency. But if your goal is awareness, you’re making progress.”

Progress. Was that enough? “I am not done yet,” I murmured, and a hint of smile twitched at the corner of Max’s mouth.

“I’d expect nothing less.”

For a long moment, we just stood there, shoulder-to-shoulder, looking out into the party. The crowd was growing louder, the music more aggressive, the smell of perfume and skin more pungent.

I caught a glimpse of a familiar face on the outskirts of the dance floor and grinned, nudging Max’s shoulder. “Look.”

Across the room, Moth paced, hands awkwardly clasped behind his back, casting nervous glances towards a pretty Valtain girl in an atrocious pink dress.

“Ascended above,” Max groaned. “Don’t do it, Moth. Valtain girls are trouble.”

I laughed. “Even me?”

“Especially you.”

We watched as Moth approached the girl and, after a brief conversation that looked so awkward I felt myself physically cringing, the two strode off together to the dance floor.

“One day,” Max stated, matter-of-factly, “he will look back at this as the beginning of his downfall.”

I scoffed. “You are only jealous because no one would dance with you when you were his age.”

“Only one poor soul,” he replied — and my eyes inadvertently found Nura, across the room. “But to be fair, I was a bit chubby then and not nearly as dashingly handsome as I am now.”

His lips curled around the words with the cloying coating of sarcasm. But when his gaze flicked to me, a lump that I didn’t quite understand grew in my throat. There was something about the way that he looked at me — heavy with an unspoken question, blue lights dancing across his face, heat radiating from his skin even from inches away — that made warmth pool at my core.

I lifted my chin towards the open doors leading out to the gardens and the cliffs. “It’s too loud,” I said. “Come outside with me.”

Together, we slipped through the crowd and out the doors. A heavy fog had rolled in with the sunset, and the wall of cool, moist air felt like stepping into a cloud. We walked in silence down the weaving pathways, encountering fewer and fewer other partygoers. Until finally, we were alone, standing on a stone patio that opened up to the cliffs and the sea.

The fog was so thick that it softened the moon to a thumbprint smear, blending the line between the sea and the sky. The Towers stood mournfully behind us, chiffon gliding in the slight sea breeze. Music warped through the mist in distant echoes.

We were still in the shadow of the Towers, but the party felt so far away.

And yet, even in this solemn solitude, even in this chilly night, that heat still remained.

I looked out over the sea and pointedly not at Max, even though I could feel his eyes on me.

“I’m a terrible dancer,” I said. “Did you know that?”

“You were a dancer in Threll, weren’t you?”

“I was, but only by memory. I counted the steps. Simple, if I practiced enough. I did not even need music.”

He chuckled. “Brute force. I should have known.” Then, after a moment, “I think that may be the first time I’ve ever heard you admit weakness aloud.”

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