The grand hall blazed with light.
A thousand candles reflected off silver plates and crystal glasses.
The air was thick with the smell of roasted meat, spiced wine, and the mingled scents of nobility.
Music swelled from the minstrels’ gallery—a rich, sweeping melody for the first dance.
At the center of the polished floor, Duke Aster and Lady Roseline moved together.
They were the picture of Northern grace.
Aster, tall and formidable in black and silver, guided his wife with a gentle, sure hand.
Roseline, in a gown of deep crimson velvet, smiled up at him, her steps light and perfect.
Their connection was silent, deep.
Everyone watched.
It was tradition.
In the shadow of a great stone pillar, Jade stood.
He wore the same simple green tunic.
He looked like a faded leaf in a garden of jewels.
Minister Kalgen was beside him again, talking low and fast, his face eager.
Other council members hovered, their eyes calculating.
Jade wasn’t listening.
His gaze was on the dancing couple.
There was a quiet, almost painful longing in his eyes.
A memory of something he never had.
A small Omega girl approached him.
She couldn’t have been more than sixteen.
She wore a dress of pale blue silk.
She twisted her hands together, her cheeks pink.
“Ah, Lord Jade,” she stammered, dipping a curtsy.
“D-did any Alpha offer you a dance yet?
Then, maybe I…
my father said it would be polite to ask…”
Jade looked down at her.
For a second, he seemed confused.
As if the idea was foreign.
Then his expression softened into a gentle smile.
“Ah…
greetings,” he said, his voice quiet.
“It is such a wonderful offer.
Truly.
But I am afraid I am too old to dance with such a little bird as you.
You should save your steps for someone your own age, someone who can keep up with your light.”
She blushed from her neck to her hairline.
“Oh!
You are such a flirt!”
Jade tilted his head, his smile turning puzzled.
“A flirt?
I only spoke the truth.”
Before the girl could reply, a larger shadow fell over them.
An Alpha stepped into the space.
He was one of Ace’s friends—Lord Bren, a barrel-chested hunter with a loud laugh and a mean streak.
He smelled of strong ale and musk.
“Well, well,” Bren drawled, his eyes sliding over Jade like he was inspecting a horse.
“You’re too pretty to be left alone in the corner, poet.
Come dance with me.
Or are you waiting for someone richer to come along and spread your legs for?”
Another Alpha, one of Bren’s companions, snorted into his drink beside him.
“Probably holding out for the heir.
Or the spare.”
Jade stiffened.
His hands, which had been relaxed at his sides, curled slightly.
But his face remained calm.
A blank mask.
“I would like to decline your offer,” Jade said, his voice even.
“I am not much of a dancer.”
Bren leaned in.
His breath was hot and sour.
“Oh, come on.
This is as good as you’re gonna get.
Look around.
No one else is asking.
And if you don’t dance tonight…” He grinned, showing yellowed teeth.
“…you become an outcast.
Officially.
No one wants the Emperor’s cast-off who’s too good to dance.”
He reached out a big, calloused hand to grab Jade’s wrist.
Across the hall, Ace saw.
He was leaning against the wall near the wine table, a goblet in his hand.
He’d been watching the dancing, bored.
Then he saw the cluster near the pillar.
He saw Bren’s aggressive posture.
He saw Jade’s stiff shoulders.
Ace’s grip tightened on his goblet.
He shouldn’t care.
Let the bastard be humiliated.
Let him see what it’s like to be an outsider.
But he remembered the blue thread.
The quiet “thank you” for the wolf.
The way Jade had called them his brothers, even if it was a lie.
And he remembered his father’s words.
You played the perfect villain.
Bren’s hand closed around Jade’s slender wrist.
Ace moved.
He didn’t think.
He just pushed off the wall and walked across the edge of the dance floor.
He moved with a lazy, dangerous grace that made people step aside.
He reached the pillar just as Bren started to pull.
“Bren,” Ace said, his voice cutting through the music.
“Your hand is on my brother’s wrist.”
Bren froze.
He turned, his expression shifting from cruel amusement to surprise.
“Ace?
I was just—”
“I know what you were just doing,” Ace interrupted.
His ruby eyes were bright, but his smile was cold.
“You were inviting him to dance.
How…
thoughtful of you.”
He stepped between them.
He didn’t shove Bren, but his presence was a wall.
Bren dropped Jade’s wrist.
“But you see,” Ace continued, his voice light and mocking, “my brother has already promised his first dance to me.
Haven’t you, Jade?”
Jade stared at him.
His crimson eyes were wide with shock.
He said nothing.
Ace turned to him.
He held out his hand, palm up.
It was a formal gesture.
An offer.
The music for the Duke’s dance was ending.
A new, faster tune was about to begin.
Every eye in their corner of the hall was on them.
Kalgen was gaping.
The little Omega girl looked awed.
Bren’s face was turning red with anger and embarrassment.
Ace kept his hand out.
His gaze locked with Jade’s.
Play along, his eyes said.
Or you’re on your own.
Slowly, Jade uncurled his fingers.
He placed his cold, slender hand in Ace’s.
Ace’s hand closed around it.
He pulled Jade gently but firmly away from the pillar, away from the sneering Alphas, and onto the edge of the dance floor.
The new song began—a lively northern reel.
It was meant for fast steps and spinning.
Jade looked up at Ace, panic flickering in his eyes.
“I truly don’t know how to dance this,” he whispered urgently.
Ace leaned in close.
His lips were near Jade’s ear.
He could smell his scent—old paper, frost, and something faintly sweet, like dried flowers.
“Then follow my lead,” Ace murmured, his breath warm against Jade’s skin.
“And try not to step on my feet, brother.”
He took Jade’s other hand, placed one on his own shoulder, and then his hand went to Jade’s waist.
And then he swept them both into the dance.
The music was fast.
The beat pounded through the floor.
Ace moved without hesitation.
He was a good dancer—fluid, confident, with a natural rhythm that made even the complicated steps look easy.
Jade was not.
He stumbled on the first turn.
His feet, used to quiet corridors and library stillness, tangled.
He gripped Ace’s shoulder tightly, his fingers digging in.
“Left foot,” Ace instructed, his voice low against the music.
He guided Jade with a firm pressure at his waist.
“Now step back.
Good.”
It was clumsy.
Jade was stiff, his movements uncertain.
He kept his eyes down, watching their feet as if they might betray him.
People were staring.
Whispers rustled through the crowd like dry leaves.
The wild prince dancing with the Emperor’s bastard.
What is this?
Ace ignored them.
He focused on the steps, on keeping Jade upright.
He spun him, and Jade gasped, his balance wavering.
Ace’s arm tightened, holding him steady.
“Relax,” Ace muttered.
“You’re dancing, not walking to your execution.”
“It feels similar,” Jade breathed back, a flicker of dry humor in his voice.
He finally looked up, meeting Ace’s eyes for a second.
There was fear there, but also a spark of something else.
Determination.
The reel required partners to separate, weave around others, and come back together.
As they parted for a moment, Ace saw Bren glowering from the sidelines.
He saw his father and mother, standing with the other high nobles.
Duke Aster’s face was unreadable.
Lady Roseline’s held a faint, worried smile.
Then the steps brought them back together.
Ace’s hand found Jade’s waist again.
Jade’s hand returned to his shoulder.
They were closer this time, the space between them charged with the awkwardness of the dance and the strangeness of the situation.
“Why did you do that?” Jade asked quietly as they turned.
His breath was a little short.
“Do what?”
“This.
Rescue me.
Again.”
Ace guided him through a spin, making it look more graceful than it was.
“I didn’t rescue you.
I was saving our family’s dignity.
Letting a drunk oaf like Bren manhandle you in public makes us look weak.
It makes me look weak.”
Jade was silent for a few steps.
The music swirled around them.
“So it was for your own pride.”
“Everything I do is for my own pride,” Ace said, flashing a sharp grin.
“Or my own amusement.
Right now, this is amusing.”
He executed a sudden, complicated series of steps, forcing Jade to move faster, to trust him.
Jade stumbled but didn’t fall.
A faint flush colored his pale cheeks from the effort.
“You’re a terrible dancer,” Ace observed.
“I told you I was.”
“But you’re learning.” Ace slowed his steps just a fraction, making it easier.
“You’re not fighting me.
That’s something.”
The song was building to its final, frenzied crescendo.
The dance floor was a whirl of color and motion.
For a moment, they were just two more bodies in the crowd, moving to the same rhythm.
As the final notes approached, the dance called for one last dramatic lift—the Alpha hoisting the Omega into the air.
Ace didn’t think.
He just acted.
His hands went to Jade’s waist.
He lifted him, easily, as if he weighed nothing.
Jade’s eyes flew wide with shock.
His hands gripped Ace’s shoulders for balance.
For a heartbeat, he was suspended in the air, the hall lights glittering in his silver hair, his simple tunic a stark contrast to the finery around them.
Then Ace set him down gently, just as the music ended with a final, ringing chord.
Silence for a second, then applause filled the hall.
They were standing very close, both breathing a little harder from the exertion.
Jade’s heart was beating fast; Ace could feel it through the thin fabric of his tunic.
Jade looked up at him.
His mask was gone.
In its place was pure, stunned confusion.
“You lifted me.”
“It’s part of the dance.”
“No one else did that.”
Ace shrugged, dropping his hands and taking a step back.
The space between them felt suddenly cold.
“I like to make an impression.”
He turned to walk away, his part done.
The spectacle was over.
A small, cold hand caught his wrist.
Ace stopped.
He looked back.
Jade was still holding his wrist.
His touch was light, but it stopped Ace in his tracks.
His crimson eyes were serious.
“Thank you,” Jade said.
The words were simple.
Sincere.
“For the dance.
And for… before.”
Ace looked at the hand on his wrist.
He could break the grip easily.
He should.
He didn’t.
He gave a short, jerky nod.
“Don’t mention it.”
He pulled his wrist free and walked away, back into the crowd, leaving Jade standing alone at the edge of the dance floor.
But as he went to get another drink, he couldn’t shake the feeling.
The weight of Jade in his arms had been nothing.
The weight of his thanks felt much, much heavier.