The skating rink had become a sanctuary of falling lace and sapphire ice. They were no longer the distant monarchs of a divided realm; they were a single entity, moving in a synchronized glide that felt like a conversation without words. Eris's pride had finally surrendered to the rhythm Soren provided, her body trusting his lead.
But as the intimacy of the moment deepened, Eris felt a surge of that same reckless, feline energy that had driven her to kiss him in the alleyway. She was tired of the distance. She was tired of the "Ice Emperor" and his layers of control.
She let her hand slide slowly from his shoulder, her fingers tracing a deliberate, lingering path down the center of his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the thick wool. "You're so cold, Soren," she whispered, her voice a low, breathy vibration that barely carried over the music.
