Page 74 of Black Wing and Shadows
The male hardly looked at him before leaning in closer. “Bet you dance better than your friends.”
Zane’s chair scraped back. “Move your hand,” he said, low and dangerous.
The male snorted, clearly more drunk than brilliant. “What, you her keeper?”
Zane rose, and Eli and Oliver shifted with him, weight forward, ready. The patron’s smirk slipped, but pride held him in place—he shoved Zane’s shoulder.
That was enough. Zane caught his wrist and twisted, precise, sharp, until the man hissed through his teeth. Chairs scraped, and someone at the next table lunged in. A shove snapped into a punch. Music cut off, replaced by shouts and the crash of a tankard exploding across the floor.
Eli vaulted over our bench to intercept another drunk lunging toward us. Oliver stepped in front of Sadie, who had half-risen from her seat, and I found myself yanking a stool out of the way of someone stumblingbackward. Lili and Thora darted back to our side, breathless from dancing and now wide-eyed.
“You always pick the best places,” Lili muttered.
“Not my fault this time,” Zane shot back, as the barkeeper pushed us out the door.
The barkeep’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. “OUT! All of you!”
And just like that, we were slipping into the darkness, the sounds of the tavern closing behind us. The sun had set, leaving the world bathed in a silver-blue glow. The road ahead was barely more than a pale ribbon under the moonlight, with grass on either side whispering in the night breeze. The group grew quieter now. Lili and Thora walked ahead with Sadie, their voices low and tired from laughter and the lingering heat of the tavern scuffle. Eli and Oliver lagged behind a bit, speaking in murmurs that didn’t carry.
Zane kept close, his stride falling in step with mine. Our shoulders brushed now and then, a steady reminder he stayed there. The air between us shifted—still charged, but softer than the tavern heat. Quieter. Heavier.
“You didn’t have to step in so fast,” I said at last, my voice cutting through the silence.
“Yes, I did.” His reply came low, certain. “I’ll always step in.”
Something in my chest tightened, both infuriating and impossible to ignore. “I’m not helpless, you know.”
He glanced at me, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I know. But he didn’t.”
We continued walking in silence, the steady sound of boots on dirt echoing beneath us. In the distance, a night bird called, and the faint smell of woodsmoke drifted through the air.
“You’ve got a look,” he said after a moment.
I tilted my head toward him. “What look?”
“The one you get when you’re thinking about things you won’t say out loud.”
I gave a half smile, keeping my eyes on the path. “Maybe I like the quiet.”
His hand brushed mine—casual, seeming accidental, yet he didn’t immediately pull away. I didn't either. When the towering college walls came into view, most of the group had settled into a relaxed, exhausted silence.
Lili and Thora were the first to head toward their chambers, with Sadie trailing behind them and giving a lazy wave. Eli and Oliver lingered long enough to chat briefly with Zane before they headed to the Drusearon wing.
That left only the two of us standing outside the gates in the flight field, the cool night air against my flushed cheeks. Curfew was near—too close for anything reckless—but neither of us moved right away.
“You should get inside,” I said, tilting my head toward his side of the building.
“I will,” he said, but his eyes never left mine. The firelight reflected in them, warm and steadfast. “I just… didn’t want the night to end yet.”
Something twisted low in my stomach, equal parts longing and warning. “We’ll both get caught if we stay out here.”
“Then come with me,” he murmured, stepping close enough for me to feel the heat of him. His voice was quiet, meant only for me. “No one’s watching right now.”
I should’ve walked away. Instead, I found myself leaning in slightly, pulled by the gravity he always seemed to carry. He brushed his knuckles along my jaw, slow and deliberate. “One more minute,” he said, like a promise and a dare.
And in the quiet beyond the torches, with the hum of the base settling for the night, I let that moment stretch until it was almost too much.
“You’re stalling,” I said, folding my arms.
