Page 153 of Kingdoms of Night

How long had she been in here? The music kept playing and playing, the song not one she recognized, seeming as endless as this place.

She blinked blearily, the haziness threatening to overtake her.

No one knew her here.

Or rather she didn’t know them. Where was the man she was looking for?

Whoever he was, he was important.

She staggered away, shaking her head. Somehow she was in the middle of the ballroom. Dancing couples surrounded her, moving with such simple grace it was hypnotic to watch. Back beneath the center of the chandelier as well. Even though she’d pulled free.

Or maybe she had walked back. Somehow.

The skin on the back of her neck prickled. She turned.

At the back of the ballroom was a large, raised dais draped with pearls and peach musk roses. Delicate white wood staircases coiled up to it on either side. An older fae man in an indigo tailcoat watched from the top of the balcony overlooking the dance floor, his white-gloved hand resting on the railing. Something about him reminded her of Puck, though his face was more angular beneath his silver-blond hair and he lacked the tattoos. A set of wings, seemingly made of blue-black smoke, furled at his back.

Was he someone she should talk to? His expression suggested general boredom.

The humming in her ears intensified as if something—magic, the fae, the room, who knew what?—didn’t want her to acknowledge him. The fuzziness within her mind intensified; everything blurred.

She fell back several steps. Her vision blurred.

A turquoise-clad fae approached the black-winged fae on the balcony, and then ushered him away.

The sea of dancers engulfed her. Moving out of their way was like a dance of its own. They carried her along and yet kept bringing her back to the middle. The violin and piano both hummed and sang, music so thick and strong she breathed it as much as heard it.

Then, as if someone had said that was enough, the dancers parted, forming a chasm down the center of the ballroom. And there—there was someone.

Her mouth fell open. By every plague and flood that had ever existed, who was that?

She blinked as the stunningly handsome visitor drew closer.

Memories returned, a cool breath after a suffocating night. “Feron?”

The crowd and music faded away as she stepped toward him. He’d always been handsome, but here? Now? It was as if she had never seen a man.

Everything about him breathed sensual masculinity. The purple velvet tailcoat and the silver-lavender waistcoat brought out the intensity of his emerald-green eyes. The gems woven into his glittering lapels couldn’t compete with those eyes. The black trousers fit him exquisitely, highlighting the muscles of his thighs. And though his entire attire was fitted in such a way to emphasize his tight waist and powerful shoulders, it did not constrict his smooth stride.

But he halted when he saw her, his chiseled jaw dropping. “Idalno.”

She couldn’t hear him, and yet she felt him say her name. It burned within her.

“Feron.” She fought to breathe. Never had any name been so wonderful to say. She broke into a run.

He charged her.

Nothing else mattered, nothing at all. She had to be with him.

He grabbed ahold of her and brought his lips to hers. The heat of his mouth lit her all the way through. She thrust her hands into his hair and pressed her body against his as if any scrap of space between them might diminish this moment. That intoxicating heat spread through her. If ever there was a moment to make last forever, it was this one. Forever and—

“Oh, look at you two,” a soft female voice cooed. “Oh, aren’t you just the sweetest couple!”

Feron broke free, and she twisted around. Many of the gathered dancers now surrounded them and appeared quite pleased. Almost proud.

“You can see us?” Feron kept his arm around her just as she kept her hand threaded in his hair.

He smelled incredible. She wanted to bury her face in his chest and just breathe. But that was a little awkward with an audience.

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