Page 104 of The Ascended
Nyvora's smile was triumph itself as she took his hand and led him toward the dance floor. I watched them go, telling myself the tightness in my chest was simply concern.
They moved together with sultry cadence, her body pressed against his like she knew every piece of him. And he was leading her with confidence. His expression remained carefully neutral as she spoke into his ear.
"Well, that's nauseating," Marx remarked, following my gaze.
I forced myself to look away, focusing on my now-empty glass. "Seems like some kind of political maneuvering."
"Mmm." She studied me with unnerving intensity. "Is that what we're calling it?"
I narrowed my eyes at her, a silent warning she completely ignored.
"Careful, Thais," she continued, her voice pitched low enough that only our table could hear. "Your face gives away more than you think."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I replied coolly.
She kicked me under the table, hard enough to make me jerk in surprise. "Liar."
"Ladies," Aelix interrupted, looking between us with growing suspicion. "Is there something I should know?"
"Absolutely not," we replied in unison, which only deepened his frown.
"Marx is delusional," I added for good measure.
Aelix sighed, reaching for his drink. "I believe I'll tune out of this particular conversation before it becomes any more perilous."
"Wise choice," Marx remarked, raising her glass in mock salute.
Across the hall, I spotted Kyren seated at a table with his mentor. He caught my eye and offered a subtle nod of recognition.
I glanced toward the dance floor again, where Xül and Nyvora were concluding their waltz. His expression remained carefully neutral, but his posture suggested relief as he escorted her off the floor. His eyes found mine across the hall, a silent question in them.
I'm fine,I tried to convey without words. And then he was headed back towards our table, narrowly avoiding interception from another beautiful Legend.
"Nyvora sends her regards," he said dryly, reclaiming his seat.
"I'm sure she does," Marx muttered, earning a sharp look from Aelix.
The rest of the evening passed in careful conversation and watchful observation. I learned to read the subtle dynamics of divine politics in the tilt of a head, the placement of a hand, the careful distance maintained or deliberately breached. Each interaction was a lesson—in what to say, what to avoid, how to deflect uncomfortable questions without giving offense.
By the time the banquet began to wind down, exhaustion pulled at my limbs, the constant vigilance taking its toll. Across the hall, other contestants showed similar signs of fatigue, while the Legends remained as fresh and alert as when the evening began.
"Another advantage of divinity," Xül noted, seeing my observation. "Endless endurance for tedious social obligations."
"Something to look forward to," I replied dryly.
He rose, offering his hand. "It's time we took our leave. We've made the required appearances, formed the necessary impressions."
I accepted his hand, allowing him to help me to my feet. "And what impression have we made, exactly?"
"As I said earlier, that you are worth watching," he whispered, his eyes holding mine.
The weight of his words settled over me like a cloak—partprotection, part burden. To be exceptional in the divine realms meant to be noticed. To be noticed meant to be targeted.
We bid farewell to Marx and Aelix, then turned toward the entrance. The atmosphere had softened around us, the night winding to its inevitable conclusion. Divine servants glided between tables, collecting abandoned glasses.
Near the center of the hall, I noticed Darian again. He'd been drinking steadily since Kavik's rebuke. A cluster of Legends had gathered nearby, deep in animated discussion.
"—the integration is proceeding smoothly across all territories," one was saying. "Having priests stationed permanently within encampments has already yielded results."
