Kalian soared over Selcouth, drinking in the salty air that wafted from the sea. It was risky to fly; he knew it was possible he'd be recognized no matter what he did, but he couldn't stay grounded any longer.

    As soon as twilight fell, marking his third night in the city, Kalian had accompanied Bellamy to a tavern and left while his friend was busy drinking. He'd let his glamour fade and shot into the sky without a second thought.

    Kalian threw his head back, letting the wind pull hair out of his face. The icy blue swirls in his wings shimmered with his elation. The currents gathered beneath their membranous folds and carried him higher, farther, faster. Kalian came to a halt and hovered, letting his gaze sweep over the city. He'd thought it was beautiful from the ground, but it was even more beautiful up here.

    The warm colors of the buildings accompanied by glowing paper lanterns and firepits, the din of music and laughter, the scents of many delectable treats, and the clatter of dishes and wagon wheels created a beautiful symphony. A magnificent landscape. Ones that even the most skillful artisans could never replicate.

    A flash of green in a dim alleyway caught his attention. Kalian banked towards it. He kept his movements silent as he scanned the alley for signs of life. There came another flash of green, followed by a timid laugh. Kalian drew his wings up and landed.

    Instantly, the Witch rounded on him, magic flaring at her fingertips. Kalian raised his hands and took half a step back. "Easy. I'm not here to cause trouble."

    "You're a Night Faerie," the Witch realized. Her magic faded. "What are you doing here? Don't you know there's an Ironblade unit positioned right outside the city?"

    "I'm aware. And, I could ask the same about you."

    "I live here."

    "Oh."

    "What is it you want?" Her golden silver eyes flashed with renewed suspicion. "I'm not a courtesan, if that's what you're thinking."

    "It's not, don't worry." Kalian drew a slip of folded paper out of his pocket. "Can you deliver this for me?"

    "That depends where you want it to go."

    "To Queen Iyan of the Night Faeries."

    The Witch stared at him in surprise. "Oh, I didn't expect... Yes, yes I can deliver it."

    "And no one is to know about this," Kalian added. "I can't tell you why, but I'm sure you can come up with a few theories."

    The Witch nodded and took the letter. Her eyes closed briefly and magic sparked to life. Her lips moved in a short incantation. The letter winked out of sight. Kalian breathed a soft sigh of relief. He'd been carrying that letter to his King and Queen for far too long. He'd sleep easier knowing that it was safe in their hands and out of his own.

    He grabbed two gold marks from his pocket and pressed them into the Witch's palm. "Tell no one," he repeated. "Please."

    "I swear."

    With a flap of his wings, Kalian was airborne once more. His next sigh was resigned, rather than relieved. He would have to return to the tavern soon or Bellamy would ask questions. And if Bellamy didn't, then one of the many Ironblades who'd accompanied him would.

    Delilah and Malachi were among them. Kalian had felt Malachi's gaze pressing into his back when he left. He would probably ask questions anyway. At least Lir had gone to see his sweetheart, making one less person Kalian had to worry about.

    He landed several blocks away from the tavern and swiftly restored his glamour. He kept to the shadows as he did so, wary of anyone who looked even vaguely familiar. While Commander Lev might trust him more than before, he knew there wasn't a chance of her siding with him if someone came forward and accused him of being a Faerie.

    Kalian reached the tavern and lifted a hand to the door. A faint melody caught his attention and he paused. The sound was coming from the square behind the tavern. Kalian ducked around the corner, curiosity getting the better of him.

    A voice soon accompanied the gentle notes. It was hesitant, as though the person wasn't used to singing, or hadn't in a very long time. There was something familiar about the voice though. He reached the square and remained out of sight.

    Kalian was awestruck by what he beheld. Moira Lev sat on a crate, strumming a lute and murmuring the lyrics of a song. Her face was washed by golden light from the lanterns dangling above the square. Her dark cheeks held an even darker flush. Her eyes shone with unnatural brightness, as though she were fighting back tears. Her voice faltered when she sang the next verse of her song, but Kalian still intently listened.

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    Moira broke off as a rustle of movement caught her eye. She hid the lute behind her back, spying Kalian. "What are you doing here?"

    "If you were hoping to find somewhere private, you couldn't have chosen a worse square," Kalian said, not answering her question. "The others are inside this tavern." Moira stared at the ground, embarrassment heating her cheeks. "I didn't know you could sing."

    "I don't."

    "What I just saw would prove otherwise." Kalian emerged from the shadows and sat down beside her.

    Moira bit her lip. Kalian hadn't said much to her since they arrived in Selcouth. She still couldn't wipe away the feeling that he was upset, or that she'd done something wrong."Are you...upset with me?"

    "No, why?" Kalian glanced at her. Golden light danced off his tanned skin, softening the angles of his face.

    "You seemed unhappy when I asked you to help Lir set up our defenses."

    "Oh, that. I was just struggling with my lingering respect for Witches, I suppose."

    Moira didn't ask for further elaboration. She set the lute aside and grabbed her bottle of spice wine. She uncorked it and took a long draught of the zesty mixture. She offered the bottle to Kalian next. He sniffed it before taking a sip.

    "What's in it?" He asked, licking his lips.

    "It's a combination of oranges, lemons, cinnamon, and some other things I can't remember."

    "It's good."

    "I told you," she chuckled. Kalian drank some more, adjusting his position so that his foot bumped hers. "I grew up here." The words were out of her mouth before she even realized it. Moira's eyes widened.

    "You've never told anyone that, have you?" Kalian asked. He leaned closer, bracing his elbows on his knees.

    "How do you know?"

    "You look like you didn't mean to tell me that."

    "I didn't."

    "Maybe you wanted to tell someone and you didn't realize how badly."

    "Maybe." Moira wrapped her arms around herself, mulling over his words. "I was the oldest of three. Marguerite was next, then Marian. They died when they were five and two. Marguerite caught the plague when it ravaged the Human Lands, and Marian starved during the famine. I was only seven when they died. I don't really remember them."

    "And your parents?"

    "They survived, but were severely weakened. Both of them had caught the plague and gave what food we had left to me. It was difficult for them to find work afterwards, and they were always worn out by the end of the day. They never fully recovered their strength."

    Moira swallowed hard, memories simmering within her. "As soon as I was old enough, I tried to find work so I could help out. I started as a barmaid and eventually learned that I had a talent for singing. I partnered with a man called Damian Eros. We were very successful." A smile tugged at her lips. "People used to call me the Nightingale of the West."

    "Your laugh reminds me of a nightingale," Kalian murmured. Moira's gaze flitted to him, but he wasn't looking at her. He eyed his hands instead.

    "Damian and I fell in love. We planned to be married."

    "But?" Kalian lifted his eyes to hers.

    "But whoever oversees the events of our world had other plans." Moira fell silent, unwilling to say anything more.

    "Calandra used to sing," Kalian said, his tone soft and longing. "She would sing while Yara and I danced around the house. Yara loved when I swung her around until her feet came off the floor. She liked to pretend she was flying."

    "What about Calandra? Did she like to dance too?"

    "She did, but her strong suit was..." Kalian broke abruptly. Moira didn't question him as he grabbed the dark bottle between his feet and took another drink. He offered it to her next and she accepted. "Her talents lay in other areas," Kalian said. "Do you dance?"

    "Sometimes Damian and I danced after we finished a performance, but that was it." Kalian stood and held out a hand. Moira shook her head. "No, if the others are in the tavern, they might see us."

    "There are no windows on this side of the building," Kalian pointed out.

    "They might come out."

    "And most of them will be too drunk to recognize us."

    Moira pursed her lips. "There's no music. I can't exactly play and dance at the same time."

    "We don't need music." Kalian audibly swallowed. "Moira." Slowly, she met his gaze. "Will you dance with me?" Her thoughts screamed at her to say no, even as she slipped her hand into his and bowed her head.

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    Kalian didn't know why he'd asked. This was by far the worst idea he'd had since joining the Ironblades. And yet, it had been so long since he felt so right. Since he felt less like a cold, empty shell and more like the person he once was.

    They waltzed around the empty square, hearing only the sounds of the city nightlife around them. Moira stumbled, but Kalian held her upright. He tucked a finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up. "Don't watch your feet. You'll overthink your movements and trip. It's like sword fighting, but without the swords."

    Moira grinned. It was a true grin; truer than any he'd seen her wear before. It brightened her features and smoothed the hollow look from her onyx eyes. "This is nothing like sword fighting."

    "Well, if it were, I'd outmatch you."

    Her lilting laugh rang out and Kalian smiled. Moira heeded his warning and kept her gaze locked with his. A long forgotten feeling curled in his stomach. He blamed it on the wine, though he knew the feeling had little to do with the drink and everything to do with the woman in his arms.

    They spun again and her sweet scent enveloped him, caramel, cloves, and crackling fires. Caramel. The smell knocked him back to his senses. What was he doing? This woman was an Ironblade. An enemy to his kind. She was responsible for the deaths of dozens of Faeries, Scindoes, and Witches. She might be responsible for his death, if she discovered the truth of what he was.

    "Kalian?" Moira called.

    Moira? When had she become Moira, instead of Commander Lev? What had happened? How had he lost his focus to this extent? What was he doing? Kalian slowed to a halt.

    "The others will be leaving soon," he rasped. "I should join Bellamy before he gets worried."

    "Right." Moira's hands left his shoulders and slid down to his chest. His heartbeat quickened. Her throat bobbed and he knew she must've felt it. "Of course. People speculate enough already. We shouldn't give them something more to talk about."

    "No," Kalian agreed. "We shouldn't." Neither of them moved. At last, Kalian forced himself to remove his hands from her waist. He backed up and she didn't reach for him. "I'll see you back at camp, Commander." Dismay flashed through her eyes, but he didn't let it register.

    Kalian hurried back to the front of the tavern and dodged inside. It didn't take long for him to find Bellamy. He was sitting with a small group of young men and women. Surprisingly, Samson was with them. He'd claimed he wasn't coming into town tonight, but had apparently changed his mind.

    Kalian slid into the empty seat beside Bellamy, but didn't join in on the conversation. His thoughts were more turbulent than they'd been in a while. What had come over him back there? What had come over her? When had things begun to change? Could he prevent them from changing? Another part of him, a secret part, wondered what would happen if the change was allowed to progress.