Page 44 of Fated for his Flame

“Trust me, your dancing skills are fine,” I reassured her, angling my descent toward an open fire-lit square.

“I don’t want to be fine,” she said, holding a little tighter as my claws touched down, and I stabilized us.

“You’re too harsh on yourself.”

She climbed down my wing before responding, still focused on keeping her balance on the membrane while also having to maneuver with the wrap around her body, keeping her dress protected.

“It’s just so different. All your steps default to the left. It’s so opposite of everything humans do. I still feel awkward, you know?”

I shifted back as she unwrapped herself, shaking the dress down into place.

“Silas? Silas? Earth to Silas?”

“Huh?”

“Up here,” she said, pointing her fingers at her eyes as I tore my eyes away from her chest. “This pair, not that one.”

“How am I supposed to decide which pair to look at when they’re both so nice?”

Chloe crossed her arms and frowned. The action only served to further emphasize her breasts through the belly-plunging slit at the front. I thought for a moment they were going to pop free and stared eagerly.

“Silas.”

“Hey,” I said, shrugging and stepping forward to take her arm. “You knew what was going to happen and that you would get that sort of attention with this dress. So, don’t get mad just because I’m enjoying the view.”

“You get to see them without anything in the way all the time.”

“Which is also awesome. This is just different. You look good,” I growled as we headed for the stairs.

“Good enough to distract from my dancing?”

I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Yes.”

We descended the stairs and followed the line of guards before turning off to the side, down a smaller hallway. The others streaming in continued ahead.

“What is this? Where are we going?” she asked as we approached a door manned by a single servant in palace livery. There were two couples ahead of us waiting.

“This is how we enter,” I told her uncomfortably. “The ‘old’ families get announced.”

“And everyone else?”

“They have their own entrance,” I said. “Just walking in.”

She laughed harshly.

“What?”

“Nothing really,” she said with a shrug. “Just fascinating to see the segregation by social status and that it exists among your people as well. Shows we’re perhaps not as different as those on either side would make it.”

I smiled. “I hate it, as do most of my peers. It’s stupid, but it’s ‘tradition,’ and the sovereign is expected to adhere to it. There are people who would flip if she didn’t do it at such a formal event.”

“People like your father.”

Grimacing, I nodded. “Exactly like him,” I said, unhappy about the reminder he was part of the problem. It wasn’t a surprise, of course, but it sucked. I wanted my father to be a part of the solution, one helping drive our people forward.

Not holding us back, which, unfortunately, was exactly what he and those who thought like him were doing.

It was disappointing and painful to be let down by one I should be able to hold to a gold standard.

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