Chapter 435: Warmth

Soren didn’t just walk; he glided. He moved with the effortless grace of a hawk on the wind, sliding across the ice and catching her before she could hit the surface. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her upright against his chest.

The position was achingly intimate. She could feel the steady thud of his heart against her back and the cool silk of his cloak against her neck.

“I’m fine,” Eris repeated, though her face was burning. She tried to pull away, but the ice was too slick. “Let go, Soren.”

“Are you sure?” he teased, his voice vibrating against her spine. “You seemed pretty confident a second ago. I’d hate for the Empress of Nevareth to get a bruised nose on her first day out.”

Eris let out a frustrated huff, but she didn’t pull away again. She leaned into him, her pride finally bowing to the reality of physics. He felt solid. He felt safe.

Soren began to move, skating slowly backward while keeping her upright. “For someone who has the power to burn down entire kingdoms,” he grinned, “you’re quite… wobbly, Eris.”

“I’ve never done this before,” she defended herself, casting a pointed look at his perfect balance. “Unlike some people who were probably born with blades on their feet.”

“Would you like me to teach you?” he asked. His tone was innocent, but his eyes were anything but.

“…Fine,” she grudgingly admitted.

Soren shifted his position to face her. He kept his hands firm on her waist, and after a moment of hesitation, Eris wrapped her arms around his shoulders for support.

They were chest to chest, their eyes locked. Every breath they took was shared in the narrow space between them.

“Feel the ice beneath you,” Soren said, his voice low and commanding. “Don’t fight it, Eris. Trust it. And trust me.”

Eris looked at him skeptically. “You’re not making any sense. Trusting the thing that’s trying to make me fall?”

“Let me have my moment, Empress,” Soren countered with a soft laugh.

They began to move in earnest. Soren skated backward, pulling her along with him. “Match my movements,” he instructed. “When I go left, you go left. Feel the rhythm of the glide.”

Eris tried to concentrate, but it was difficult. She was too aware of his hands on her waist, the scent of him, and the way the muscles in his arms shifted beneath her touch. Gradually, however, the wobbling stopped. They began to synchronize, their movements smoothing out into a slow, elegant dance across the sapphire ice.

Around them, the world was a blur of joy. The music from the nearby stage picked up a melodic, sweeping tempo. The lanterns glowed brighter as the afternoon sun began to dip behind the mountains, casting long, golden-purple shadows across the rink. It was ethereal, a moment of peace in a life defined by war and duty.

Then, the sky shifted. A single, fat snowflake spiraled down from the clouds, landing on the tip of Eris’s nose. Then another, and another, until a gentle, magical snowfall began to coat the city in white.

The crowd let out a collective gasp of delight. “It’s snowing!” children cried, pointing to the sky.

The flakes landed in Eris’s hair like diamonds and settled on Soren’s shoulders. Where they fell between them, they melted instantly… caught between her internal heat and the cold of his skin.

They continued to skate, the falling snow creating a private world around them. Soren was flawless, gliding with a perfection that Eris found deeply annoying.

“Show off,” she muttered, a spark of jealousy in her eyes. “You’re making me look bad.”

Soren’s expression softened into something purely sincere. “You look beautiful, Eris. Clumsy, but beautiful.”

Eris wanted to hit him, but she couldn’t stop the smile that broke across her face.

At the edge of the rink, Ryse and Mira stood together. Ryse had discarded his usual stoicism when he’s not teasing, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips as he watched Soren and Eris.

“They look happy,” Mira whispered, her face soft with a romantic sort of wonder.

“They do,” Ryse agreed. He glanced at Mira, seeing the way she looked at the ice.

“Would you like to try?” Ryse asked, extending a hand toward her.

Mira’s eyes widened, and she shook her head frantically. “Me? Oh, no. I’ve never skated in my life. I’ll fall and embarrass myself in front of the whole court.”

“I could teach you,” Ryse said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Like His Majesty is teaching the Empress.”

Mira remained hesitant, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her cloak.

“You gave me a favor for the hunt,” Ryse reminded her, his eyes warm. “The handkerchief. I haven’t forgotten.”

“I didn’t give it to you expecting anything back, Sir Ryse,” she said quickly.

“I know. But I want to give you something. What would you like?”

Mira thought for a moment, her eyes darting to the food stalls. “Maybe… we could just try the food stalls? The pastries looked wonderful. Or we could just walk together through the market.”

Ryse’s smile widened. She asked for so little. “That’s easy,” he said. “I can do that.”

In another section of the festival, Caelen and Ophelia were moving through the crowds. Ophelia maintained her mask of saintly grace, smiling at the citizens, but inside she was cold with resentment. Caelen, however, was focused entirely on Rael. He was determined to give his son one day of pure joy, pushing his guilt and his memories of Eris into a dark corner of his mind.

They reached a smaller section of the rink, and Rael immediately began to jump. “Papa! Can we?! Please!”

Caelen laughed and got them skates. Rael was a natural learner; he spent the first ten minutes falling and laughing, but soon he was sliding across the ice with Bjorn chasing alongside him, the wolf’s paws skidding hilariously on the slick surface. Caelen held Rael’s hand, a genuine moment of father-son bonding that made Ophelia feel even more like an outsider as she watched from the sidelines. Caelen offered to carry her along but she declined.

Rael grew confident. He began to skate faster, his laughter ringing out as he tried to outrun the wolf. But his blade caught a patch of uneven ice. He stumbled, his small body tipping forward.

Panic flared in the boy’s eyes. He threw his hands out instinctively to catch his fall.

Fwoosh.

A small, concentrated burst of orange flame erupted from Rael’s palms. It wasn’t large, but it was hot enough to instantly melt the ice beneath him, creating a sudden cloud of steam.

Caelen rushed over, scooping Rael up before he could fall into the slush he had just created. “You alright? Are you hurt?”

Rael looked at his own hands, his eyes wide with confusion. “What happened? Papa, did I… did I do that?”

Caelen looked at the melted patch of ice and then at his son. The realization hit him with the force of a tidal wave. Rael had fire magic. He was Eris’s son, through and through.

“It’s okay,” Caelen said, his voice trembling slightly with a mix of awe and fear. “You’re fine, Rael. Let’s take a break.”

Rael, however, wasn’t scared. He looked at his hands and then at the steam rising from the ice. A huge, triumphant grin broke across his face. “Did you see, Papa?! I made fire! I’m like Mama!”

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