Page 289 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Kyleer slackened his hold only to pull her toward the balcony. The winter air was sharp, but she was distracted by the music she heard distantly when he opened the doors. Piano and strings wove a melody through the crisp night, and her senses opened to it, craving more.

“Now there is,” he said, resuming their stance.

Zaiana was overcome with emotion, wanting to hold onto him so tightly when anything precious had a habit of slipping away from her. Of dying. She’d watched Kyleer die once, and it had been the worst moment of her existence, and now the price of loving him was to live with this festering, terrible fear that he could leave her in one way or another and rip half her heart away with him.

Her thoughts rewound, replaying one terrifying but exhilarating confession.

She loved him.

Zaiana stopped their gentle swaying, letting him go abruptly.

“Is my dancing really that bad?”

She shook her head, latched onto his moss-green irises and falling through them. “You’re perfect,” she whispered.

She fell so fast and deeply there was no stopping it now. No amount of denial could spread her wings to stop this plummet. Becausehebecame her wings. With the ability to let her go and watch her shatter beyond repair, or hold her tight and fly through eternity with her.

Zaiana believed love truly made fools out of people.

She turned, lifting her skirts and jumping up onto the balcony’s stone ledge. Her leather pants in preparation for battle at a moment’s notice kept the chill from sweeping under her dress. When she turned back to him, Kyleer jerked forward, his eyes wide with shock and concern.

“What are you doing?”

“Testing whether you’ll let me fall.”

Zaiana had lost her sanity, casting her arms out and tipping back into gravity’s claim.

Her hair and dress billowed around her, and the air wrapped her tightly. Her mind, body, and soul were at complete peace without her wings, anticipating the strong arm that curved around her middle, slowing her descent, before scooping her legs, cradling her body.

Their faces were so close. Kyleer’s rugged features softened against the moonlight.

“Never,” he said, pressing his lips to hers.

Euphoria beat in her chest as he carried them higher and higher. She didn’t want this feeling to end, holding it dear in her chest for times when he wasn’t near to breathe life into it.

Zaiana glanced over the landscape that glimmered beneath them. She’d flown countless times, and yet there was something new, magickal, about the sight below her now. It was all because of who she shared it with.

On the outskirts of Farrowhold, fire flew through the air.What a peculiar type of celebration,she thought. Were the humans in the outer town juggling torches? Had a small circus come to join the Yulemas and wedding celebration?

It was only a couple at first, but more joined. Then the pattern of flames darting through the air began to make a formation.

Zaiana’s body stiffened.

“Are you cold?” Kyleer asked, thinking that was the reason for her tension as she watched the score of amber fire over his shoulder.

“High Farrow has been infiltrated,” Zaiana said. Her wings unglamored, and she let go of Kyleer. Now she knew what she was looking at—fire arrows—the situation turned worse.

Squinting, she could vaguely make out the bodies moving in the darkness. It was impossible to tell numbers, to see if this was just another test of their defenses, though it was concerning they’d gotten this close, within Farrowhold, without Reylan’s scout regimen reporting back.

“We have to alert Reylan,” Kyleer said.

Zaiana nodded, falling into a dive toward the castle.

She tore off her skirt in her rooms, though it kind of disappointed her to do so. She hadn’t made it to the ball, yet she’d danced with Kyleer in their own bubble away from the world, and that was worth more than any lavish party. She swiped up her sword belt, fixing it to her back as they ran through the halls.

Guards directed them to where Faythe Ashfyre and the others were. In lucky timing, they’d stepped away from the ballroom for a moment.

The reception room they found them in was bright with laughter as the company sat and stood around the fire, clearly lost in the throes of friendship. Reylan was the first to notice their disruption, standing from the arm of the chair Faythe sat on and setting his cup on the mantel.

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