The Fake Dating Spell novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: The Yule Ball

The Yule Ball was held in the Queen's long glass gallery, with two thousand candles and a floor polished to a mirror.

Wynne walked in on Tavish's arm in the green gown, with Pippa's pearl pins in her hair.

The gold thread ran between their wrists, and the crowd parted around it.

She heard the whispers start at the door.

"That's the clerk."

"That's the Warden. She's his?"

"Look at the color. I've never seen that color."

Tavish bent his head to her ear.

"Breathe," he said.

"I am breathing."

"You are holding your breath and counting the chandeliers."

"There are eleven," Wynne muttered.

His mouth twitched.

The Queen sat at the far end of the gallery in a high-backed chair, a small white-haired woman with a stick across her knees.

The Sight-mage stood at her shoulder.

On the left of the dais sat Lorcan and Sabine, in the best seats.

Lorcan's eyes were fixed on the thread.

"Warden Morrow," the Queen said, and the music stopped.

Tavish bowed.

"Your Majesty."

"And Mistress Aldercott. I am told you took your name back at the Guild yesterday."

Wynne's mouth went dry.

"I did, Your Majesty."

"Good," the Queen said dryly. "About time someone did. Now. Show me this thread."

Tavish lifted their joined wrists.

The gallery went silent enough to hear candle wax drip.

"The Sight-mage tells me it is gold," the Queen said.

"She tells me she has never seen it before. I am an old woman and I like to see a thing for myself."

She tapped her stick.

"Kiss her, Warden."

A murmur ran around the room.

Tavish turned to face Wynne.

She could see the exact moment he decided.

He put both hands on either side of her face, with the thread glowing against her cheek.

"Look at me, not at them," he said, very quietly.

She looked at him.

He kissed her.

It was not the careful kiss from the sleigh.

It was the kiss from the hall wall, deep and hungry and entirely unhurried.

His thumbs lay along her jaw, and her fingers curled into his collar.

She forgot the chandeliers.

She forgot the crowd.

When the light hit her closed eyelids she thought one of the candles had caught.

She opened her eyes and the whole gallery was gold.

The thread had burst.

It poured out from their wrists in a great warm flood.

It ran up the pillars and along the glass and across the ceiling, and every candle flame leaned toward them.

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