The moon resides high above, piercing the dark blanket thrown across the sky. Children have tired, but the festival has only grown louder as more cups are handed out and people dance in the streets, the music spilling out even into the forest. Casimir twirls me under his arm, spinning me so fast I stumble over my feet but catching me just before I fall.

"Oops," he says, trying not to smile as I steady myself.

"Oops? You definitely did that on purpose."

"Maybe."

My stomach aches from laughing. There's a sheen of sweat on my forehead, and I'm sure the flowers Cadence littered through my hair have nearly all been dislodged, but as Jakob misses a step in the music and stumbles forward slightly, I don't care, leaning over to laugh as he shoots me a glare, pressing his lips together to hide his own smile.

"He's going to poison your lunch one day," Casimir says, making me laugh.

The song slows down, a sweeter tune filling the air. I lean forward, lowering my voice. "I'm sure this isn't what Trina imagined when she advised you to 'keep an eye out'."

"I don't care what she imagined. Have fun tonight."

"I am."

Cas pulls me closer, holding my hand. I stare up at him, my heart squeezing in my chest. His soft golden hair burns orange beneath the lanterns, his strong nose, now clean-shaven face. Everything about him is so familiar to me. It's so hard to believe he has an entire life I know nearly nothing about.

"What're you thinking about?" he murmurs.

I grab his shoulder, tilting my head as we sway. "Who says I'm thinking about anything?"

"You're always thinking about something."

"I was thinking about you," I say, leaning in and lowering my voice. "About your life as a deserter. The people you grew up around. Your friends, the people you care most about—"

"You are the person that I care most about."

I roll my eyes. "But I can't be the only one. What about Elex?"

"What about him?" Casimir asks, tone neutral, but for the first time since we were kids, his cheeks turn pink. "He's a good friend."

I raise a questioning eyebrow. "Come on, Cas."

"What?"

"I saw the way you looked at him. It's the same look you gave Laark Smythe when you were thirteen."

"Everyone looked at him like that back then."

"Not the point I'm trying to make."

He pinches my side, his cheeks as red as the flowers in my hair. "I know exactly what point you're trying to make. Whatever you're thinking, let it go."

I pout. "You're no fun."

Casimir sighs, eyes raking across my face, and lowers his voice. "I'm not just a deserter, Frey, I'm an informant. My life is in Veymaw, Elex's isn't. It doesn't matter what I want. We all make sacrifices for the cause; Elex and I both know that."

I wrinkle my nose, making him laugh. "Boo."

"You've always been a hopeless romantic."

I swat him. "No, I'm not."

"Oh yes you are."

I lean against his chest, pinching his arm till he winces and swats me away. I glance over the couples dancing in the crowd, at a girl, probably one about 11, one of the only children left, fighting to keep her eyes open as she dances with her father.

"Do you remember last year?" I ask.

A soft smile crosses his face. "When you and Samu went swimming in the lake despite my concerns?"

I swat his chest. "It was fun."

"It was freezing, the middle of the night, and really stupid."

The memory warms me from inside out. Casimir's eyes grow distant; I can tell he's thinking of it too. "We're going to find him," I say quietly.

"Sometimes I'm scared of what will happen to you if we don't."

"Don't say that. We will." I frown. "Don't you want to save him?"

His expression softens. "You know I do."

"But?"

"But not if it means losing you."

I step back, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. The truth is, I understand his conflicting emotions. Samu was important to him, too. But I try to place myself in his perspective—if saving Samu meant losing Casimir, would I still do it?

"If we make it in and we find him, I want you to promise me that you'll do whatever it takes to get him out." He opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. "Promise me, Cas. Promise me that no matter what you'll get Samu out of there. First and foremost."

He doesn't say anything, just stares, and it only adds fuel to the furnace of fear inside of me. Casimir will put me first, always, even when I don't want him to. His gaze draws over my shoulder, narrowing at the forest, mind distracted from the conversation.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Trina," he says, tone sour. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

I watch him as he draws away, weaving throughout the crowd before disappearing into the treeline.

"Lost your partner?"

I spin around to face Killian standing behind me. The top of his white shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his toned chest. He looks beautiful, and for the first time tonight, I find myself wishing I'd taken Cadence up on her offer of her mother's emerald dress.

Fighting the urge to reach up and fix the fallen flowers in my hair, I meet his eye. His posture is relaxed, but I don't dare fool myself into thinking he's like every other person at this festival. I know those hands are deadly.

"You weren't summoned with him?"

"No, actually," he says. "Trina tasked me with babysitting duties in his absence."

I narrow my eyes. "I'll be sure to be on my best behaviour."

"But misbehaving is much more fun." He stretches a hand towards me, grin wicked. "Shall we?" I stare at his calloused fingers as they stretch towards me. "Come on, it would be a shame to waste and evening when you look so pretty."

There's no teasing glint in his expression, no double meaning. He doesn't even seem to realise that what he's said is a compliment when he states it like it's a fact, but warmth pulses to my cheeks.

Killian detects my hesitation and takes my hand before I can protest. His fingers engulf mine, touch gentle but firm. I try to calm my racing heart as I place both my hands on his shoulders. His rest lightly on the small of my back. I glance up at him, ensuring there's a significant space between our bodies.

There's no denying that I'm attracted to him, nearly everyone in Veymaw is, and I have been since he's arrived. But attraction is all that it was. When he first came here, he was just a handsome stranger with an ambiguous story, nothing more nothing less. What's dangerous about the present is that now I want to know more. Now, I'm more interested in his words than his eyes.

He lied for me. He saved my life. He's the reason I still have a chance at finding Samu. Whatever we are: friends, enemies, reluctant allies, I can't deny that he spends immeasurable lengths of time running through my mind.

"You've been avoiding me tonight," he says after a few moments.

"Why would I be avoiding you?"

"My question exactly."

Ever since I saw him at beginning of the evening, I avoided him like the plague. When Raven and Jakob dragged us over to him, I excused myself to find Casimir, and anytime I found myself searching for him in the crowd, he'd already been looking at me. But I don't have an excuse.

"Not everything revolves around you, Killian," I say eventually.

"A shame, isn't it? My life would be so much easier if it did."

"You're so vain."

"Confident," he corrects.

"Arrogant."

"Call me whatever you want if it means you'll tell me why you've run in the opposite direction as me all night."

"Like I said, you're imagining it."

From the look on his face, he doesn't believe me. But he drops it anyway, and I'm grateful. What am I supposed to say: I'm avoiding you because you make my heart pound? Because you saved my life and I'm too prideful to thank you?

"Killian," I whisper, glancing over his shoulder to check for eavesdroppers. "Was Anton... was he a deserter?"

"No," he says. "At least not that I know of."

"Then why did they—"

"A warning. To scare any deserters in the crowd. To scare any wanting to be a deserter."

"Well it doesn't work. Killing and innocent only makes us hate them more."

"You need to be careful with what you say, Freya."

I roll my eyes. "Why? Are you going to report me?"

"I'm serious." All the humour has left his expression, and his grip on me tightens. "Even before you knew what Casimir and I were, we both knew what you wanted. The first week I met you I knew you were looking for the deserters. I knew you hated the shifters. You don't even seem to try to hide it. Anton was murdered for no reason. If anybody else even thinks you might be associated with us, you'll be next."

My stomach drops with the warning. I instinctually glance over my shoulder, to the treeline, as if I'll catch somebody watching, waiting. Killian is right, but the verbal reminder shakes me more than I expected.

"True or false," I say, trying to distract myself from the thought.

"This game again?" Killian murmurs. "Does your mind ever stop coming up with questions?"

"Do you want me to trust you or not?" I say. He stares down at me for a few seconds before he nods. "You're qualified to be a teaching assistant."

"False. I couldn't turn up to Veymaw without a job. Casimir tried to convince Trina to place me as a baker, I assume so that there'd be less chance of me finding out about you."

"So why weren't you? A baker, I mean."

"I have many talents, but baking is not one of them." It seems hard to believe that Killian could be bad at anything. "My turn. Your favourite colour is blue."

"False." I pause with a frown. "You could say anything and that's what you ask?"

"Maybe I just want to know your favourite colour."

"Why?"

"Does there have to be a reason? And you still haven't told me, by the way."

"It's green."

"Good to know." He offers a charming smile, and if it weren't for the fact that we're dancing together, I'd almost convince myself that that smile was meant for somebody else.

"Has anybody ever told you that you're a terrible dancer?" Killian asks.

"Maybe if our unqualified teaching assistant actually showed up to teach a class, I'd be better."

"You learn to dance in school?"

"When we're younger. But clearly, as you point out, not very well."

He stares down at me for a few seconds as the music wafts between us. His hand moves, trailing the length of my arm all the way to my wrist. My breath hitches as his hand toys with mine, intertwining our fingers. My other hand stays on his shoulder, his on the small of my back.

"Dancing with somebody is like becoming one," he murmurs. "You become a unit, one breath. It's one fluid movement, not two."

I adjust my posture, drawing my eyes to his and praying he can't hear the pounding of my heart. "Like this?"

He increases the pressure of his hand on my lower back, pressing me closer, so that only an inch of space rests between us, each breath making our chests brush. "Like this."

Sucking in a breath of air, he guides us to the music. The rest of the crowd melts away. I can only see him, feel his hands through the fabric of my dress, hear the erratic beat of my heart.

"That's better," he says.

My body moves with his, the skirt of my dress swirling around our feet. He invades every sense. The music, the crowd, the moon—it all fades away until we're the only two left, dancing alone in a dark room.

"You never asked me what my favourite colour is," Killian murmurs.

I take a shaky breath. "Because I actually had important questions."

He pauses before speaking, running his eyes down the length of my dress before meeting mine again and whispering, "it's red."

"Noted," I say, ignoring the flop of my stomach. "Next time I'll wear blue."

A wicked grin lights his face as he leans in, ducking his head so his lips are by my ear. "Your cheeks--" as he speaks, they warm, "--your lips...you can't change the colour of those."

I've been complimented before—by my father, Cadence, Casimir, even a few times when I was younger and had a fleeting crush on a boy from my class. But when I look up at Killian and his eyes sweep across my face, no compliment has ever made me feel like I'm burning. Not like this.

I break his hold, stepping back. The sudden movement causes me to bump into a couple dancing behind me, stumbling. Killian reaches out to steady me, dropping his hands as soon as I'm standing straight. His eyes meet mine, the look in them wanting me to reach out and dance with him again.

"I don't want to dance anymore," I say.

"Why not?"

"Because...because..." Because it makes my heart pound, head spin, stomach twist. Because I know he's messing with me. Because it makes me feel things for him that I shouldn't. "I just don't."

His stare burns. I feel feverish as I brush my hands down my dress, trying to forget the feel of his hands against mine. "Freya, I—"

The music cuts out, replaced by the echo of a low horn. Killian tenses, instinctively stepping closer to me, his eyes scanning over my shoulder. My heart drops to the pit of my stomach at the echo of the horn.

The woman beside us frowns, glancing to her partner. "Is that—"

"Tetterman," Killian finished, voice low. He looks at me. "He's here."

~

Do you think Casimir's life is fair?

Do you think Killian is messing with Freya like she suspects?

What do you think Tetterman will do?