Song vibe: Mikrokosmos – BTS

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  SAPHIRA

  The Great Hall, Firestone

  The feast that followed that evening was unlike anything Saphira had ever attended. The dishes were mismatched, cooked from whatever Orson and his team could coax into being. There were no set courses; food arrived when it was ready—and Saphira gravitated shamelessly toward the sweets while Nocturne claimed only the meat. People sat where they pleased, without seating plans or guest lists or any sense of hierarchy that survived the second round of rakia.

  But they laughed—and the Knights drank far more than they should have.

  Lysander produced his lute with a theatrical flourish, and Rell launched into a flawless melody—despite barely managing to remain upright. His right arm was slung companionably around Lucian’s shoulders, while his left hand sloshed a dangerously full flagon of ale in enthusiastic time with the rhythm. Lucian joined Rell with an effortless harmony, stealing sips from Rell’s drink between verses.

  “To our new castellan!” Lucian slurred, lifting Rell's flagon high enough to slosh foam over his knuckles.

  From the corner, Valentino raised his glass in response, the motion precise and restrained, a courteous smile settling into place as neatly as the tailored lines of his dark coat.

  "...and to our newest Knight, Sir Aurelian!" Lucian declared. "Worthy bastards, both of you!"

  The cheering surged. The sound barely faded before Lysander’s tune leapt into something brighter and faster.

  Felix wasted no time. He caught Verity’s hands and pressed them firmly into August’s before either of them could object. August looked as though he might flee—then, with resigned resolve, he sculled the rest of his rakia and drew Verity onto the floor.

  Verity gasped, her face flushing scarlet beneath the sudden attention.

  Almost immediately, Felix swept Marigold into a wide, confident turn of his own, deliberately stealing the centre of the hall. His father's heavy signet ring flashed on his hand as he spun her. Marigold laughed, new gold chains gleaming at her throat and wrists, gemstones sparkling with every step—Felix’s utter devotion leaving her radiant.

  Watching eyes followed them without resistance, drawn into the spectacle Felix so happily provided.

  By the time the music swelled again, August and Verity had slipped back into the comfort of anonymity.

  Valentino remained at the edge of the room, fingers resting around the stem of his wineglass without quite relaxing into it. He sipped sparingly, gaze drifting more often to the floor than the dancers. When his eyes met Saphira’s, he inclined his head in a courteous nod.

  The first thing he did upon arrival was tell me about Celestine, Saphira thought, her hand stilling mid-air with a spoonful of strawberry pudding. He spoke as though he were detached—but I could see the hurt in his eyes.

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  She saw how Valentino watched the couples dance with a hollow smile. I never thought my own sister capable of such coldness. Wanting something badly enough to wound another for it. Just like Crassus. The person we both swore never to become.

  “Something on your mind?” Nocturne murmured, putting down his knife and fork. He had swapped his usual plain shirt for a formal navy blue jacket; his hair, washed and dried, hung loose across his brow in a way that made it hard for Saphira to look away.

  “I was just thinking of the past,” she said, scooping the pudding into her mouth. “It’s hard to dwell on it when my future is right here—” She patted his hand, laughing, “—drinking far more than what’s good for him.”

  “Mmh,” Nocturne drawled, putting down his gin glass. His hand slipped beneath the table and settled warm and possessive on her knee. “The future? Too far ahead. Let’s talk about tonight."

  Her fingers slid under the table and over his—not to push him away—but to draw his hand higher.

  He gave her inner thigh a single, satisfied squeeze and chuckled low in his chest. “I’m drunk, love, but not that drunk.” He smoothed the plum silk back into place. “I can wait until the feast is over—but not a moment longer.”

  Heat curled through her—a shiver of anticipation, colour rising in her cheeks, the quiet thrill of knowing no one in the hall had noticed. He threaded their fingers together and lifted their joined hands above the table, openly, unashamed—the Count holding his Countess’ hand in full view of the Great Hall.

  No one is staring in judgment, she reassured herself. They stare because no ever believe their Count capable of such softess. They sense the change, and so do I.

  "You're getting caught in your thoughts again," he said. "Tonight, relax. Let them see us."

  Without thinking, she touched the plum coloured silk of her bodice, the place right over her heart. The Luxian silk rippled under her fingers, the beads shining in the torchlight.

  He leaned closer, his voice lowered so only she could hear. "I like seeing you wear the things I buy," he murmured.

  “I..." she bit her lip. "I can't believe you thought to buy me something in Lux."

  "Val ordered it; Lucian carried it home," he acquiesced, then added, "That colour suits you,"

  "It does?" she asked, smoothing the plum silk unconsciously. "I’ve… not worn purple since Renatus,”

  “A pity,” he said quietly, his thumb moving slowly and deliberately over her fingers. “I’d forgotten how dangerous you look in it.”

  Her breath caught despite herself; she tugged the neckline higher.

  “Don’t make me impatient.” His mouth curved faintly, eyeing her exposed skin. “I’m already exercising restraint.”

  Above: Saphira and Nocturne enjoy the feast.

  “Nox,” she whispered, the blush creeping high on her cheeks, “is this normal?”

  He glanced down at their clasped hands and gave a small, unconcerned shrug.

  “I mean… you and me. Every night.”

  “Only if you want,” he replied quietly. “Forget what anyone else thinks.”

  She rested in the certainty of his grip, the steadiness of his presence. Nothing feels fragile or provisional with Nocturne. He’s absolute—and I know I’m safe with him.

  “They used to say too much love can ruin a good marriage,” she murmured, stroking his calloused palm with her thumb.

  “Then consider our marriage ruined,” he said, lifting her fingers to his lips and kissing them gently.

  Around them, the hall pulsed with living warmth—music lifting into the rafters, laughter spilling across stone, boots thudding in careless rhythm. Old grief still lingered in quieter corners; choices yet to come would test them; power would not loosen its grip easily.

  But tonight, Firestone has awakened—no longer just surviving—but finally becoming something worth building a real life inside.

  “I think,” she murmured, “this might be what home feels like.”

  Nocturne turned his head slightly, his temple brushing her hair. The faintest smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll guard it.”

  “Together.” Her fingers tightened gently around his. "Always together."

  The EPILOGUE is dropping soon! With an announcement about Book II.

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