Callum’s fingers found mine with the quiet precision of someone used to leading others into danger disguised as duty. His touch was warm, grounding, unshaking. The opposite of me. We stood together beneath the vast golden arch at the very top of the grand staircase—two figures framed by the breathless grandeur of the Moonlit Ball. The world below shimmered like a pageant in amber, gilded and waiting, the ballroom swelling with silence as soon as we stepped forward into the light.
I could feel the moment catch.
The chandeliers—wrought in twisted glass and phoenix-gold, hovering midair like captured constellations—tilted ever so slightly in our direction, their enchanted filaments flaring brighter as if to anoint us. Magic stirred the air. The ambient hum of violin strings softened to a hu
