I didn’t plan to enjoy the festival tonight, but Idellia had other ideas. Lanterns burned bright over the streets, music tangled in the air, and laughter spilled from every corner like it had nowhere else to go.

I told myself I’d just make an appearance.

Tamil and his young friends had insisted I attend, dragging me away from my usual responsibilities with an uncharacteristic enthusiasm. But the moment I stepped into the heart of the festival, something in me stilled.

My brain, usually a battlefield, finally went quiet. No strategy. No scheming. Just music, and warmth, and the unsettling sense that—for once—being present might actually be enough.

Between chicken skewers, candied nuts, and something pink and fluffy that tasted like regret, my stomach was plotting revenge.

I had just finished humoring Tamil with a game of chance at one of the vendor stalls when a man approached.

He was handsome in the effortless way that noblemen so often were—tall, well-dressed, with a confidence that did not demand attention but naturally commanded it. His hair was a shade of deep brown, slightly tousled, and when he smiled, it was with quiet charm rather than arrogance.

"Lady Astrid Cromwell?" he asked, bowing slightly.

I nodded. "You have me at a disadvantage, sir."

He laughed lightly. "Then let me remedy that. I am Alistair Dorne. My family has overseen the restoration of Idellia’s eastern district."

A name I recognized. The family from Dorne Earldom was well-respected in Idellia, known for their investments in architecture and craftsmanship.

He extended a hand. "Would you do me the honor of a dance?"

He said it like someone who wasn’t used to being turned down—and wouldn’t be surprised if I tried anyway.

Fortunately for him, I was full of sugar and bad decisions.

Tamil nudged me lightly with his elbow, grinning. "It’s tradition to accept at least one dance at the festival," he said.

I exhaled, amusement flickering at the edges of my thoughts.

A dance. Something simple. Something harmless.

"Very well, Lord Dorne," I said, placing my hand in his. "Just one."

He led me to the open square where couples swayed to the rhythm of string instruments and lilting flutes. When his hand rested lightly at my waist, I braced myself for the usual tedium that came with noble dances.

But it never came.

Alistair was a practiced dancer, moving not just with skill, but with the ease of someone who enjoyed it. And, to my surprise, I found myself enjoying it, too.

"You’ve made quite a name for yourself here," he remarked as we moved.

"Is that so?"

He nodded. "The Duke speaks highly of you. The merchants trust you. Even the artists—who trust no one—sing your praises."

I arched a brow. "And what of you, Lord Dorne? Do you trust me?"

His lips quirked slightly. "I find you fascinating, Lady Astrid. And I think you could have whatever you wanted in Idellia, should you choose to stay."

Ah, the polished charm of a man raised by governesses, books, and an exhausting amount of eligible cousins.

But something in my chest tightened at his words.

He wasn’t wrong. If I let myself, I could stay. I could build something here that was entirely mine, untouched by the ghosts of my past. I could choose happiness over vengeance.

And perhaps, if I allowed myself to be vulnerable again, I could even find love.

My first impression of Alistair: He was the sort of man you’d trust with your secrets—and possibly your future. Kind, intelligent, and irritatingly unburdened by hidden agendas.

If I were the kind of woman who could move on, he’d make it easy.

Too easy. Which, obviously, made him suspicious by default.

But I wasn’t.

Because my heart was still weighed down by two men who haunted it.

One who had broken it.

And one who might yet claim it.

The dance ended, and Alistair bowed politely. "Perhaps you’ll grant me another dance someday?"

I smiled, but it was carefully measured. "Perhaps."

Then I walked away before I could linger.

Tamil caught up to me, whispering, “That’s two compliments away from a marriage proposal. I’ve notified the press.”

A pink, sparkly heart appeared above his upturned palm. One of the many things I learned about my friend: he was a mage.

Some people were just born winning.

I nudged him in the ribs as he laughed.

The festival stretched on into the late hours, but I found myself retreating to my chambers before the final lanterns were released into the sky.

A letter waited for me there.

Evan’s reply. You are returning. Aren’t you?

It should’ve been an easy answer. But instead, the question landed like a punch I didn’t see coming.

But as I stared at the words, I felt my certainty slipping.

I picked up a fresh sheet of parchment, intending to write my response.

Instead, I hesitated.

What was I supposed to say?

That for the first time in my life, I wasn’t constantly calculating my next move? 

That I had danced with a man tonight who reminded me that I was still capable of something softer?

That I was beginning to wonder if leaving Idellia would mean walking away from the best thing that had ever happened to me?

My hand moved on its own, betraying the part of me I wasn’t ready to face.

Dear Evan,

I danced with a stranger tonight. He smiled like he meant it.

And for a moment, I forgot the game. I forgot you.

That scared me more than anything.

I’m afraid that I won’t be the same person when I return.

I’m afraid that you won’t be the same either.

And I don’t know what that means for us. 

Yours,
Cassandra

I stared at the words for a long time before I sealed the letter.

Then I hid it at the bottom of the drawer like it was dangerous—which, of course, it was.