Page 17 of Gifted to the Alien Prince
Before I could respond, the room hushed, a ripple of surprise sweeping through the crowd. Heads turned, eyes widened, and I heard the collective intake of breath as a lone figure strode through the doorway.
Thadron’s long frame was clad in deep green attire that accented his strong shoulders and proud stance, the rich fabric laced with intricate embroidery. His usual stoic expression softened just enough to seem approachable, but his glacial blue eyes still held their intensity.
He stopped in front of me, his gaze locking onto mine. “I’ll escort the ambassador on her first walk to see the lights.”
My heart thudded in my chest. His voice was steady, yet there was something deeper in his tone. Without hesitation, he extended his hand toward me.
I placed my hand in his, warmth spreading from his touch, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just us.
As I slipped my hand into his, the warmth of his palm surprised me, even through his gloves. We turned together, stepping away from the glowing ballroom. Lucian and the queen led the way. Lucian's attention was firmly fixed on the tall Glaciarian woman by his side, her silvery hair sculpted into a sleek pixie cut. Their laughter floated back to us, carefree and bright.
But the eyes of the crowd were glued to me and Thadron. Their curiosity and whispers trailed behind like an invisible thread.
I felt the heat of Thadron’s breath as he leaned in, his voice a low murmur. “I haven’t done this in a while.” A hint of amusement threaded through his tone. “Everyone’s just impressed I can still put one foot in front of the other.”
A chuckle escaped me, and I shook my head. “They’re happy to see you on the walk.”
His lips quirked into a smile, slow and genuine. “You really do look lovely tonight, Isa.”
Butterflies fluttered wildly in my stomach. For a moment, it felt like we were the only two people here, despite the eyes following our every step.
Ahead, Lucian glanced over his shoulder, his gaze flicking between us. A knowing smile tugged at his lips before he turned back to his partner, whispering something that made her laugh.
The cold air embraced us as we stepped outside. The night was a canvas of deep blues and blacks, lit by the ethereal dance of the northern lights. Ribbons of green, violet, and silver unfurled across the sky, like delicate silks shifting in a breeze. The colors reflected off the frost-covered sculptures in the keep’s garden, each piece glistening as though dusted with crushed diamonds.
I exhaled slowly. The sheer beauty of it all made my chest ache. Being here, being included in something so meaningful, filled me with a quiet joy I hadn’t expected.
Thadron's grip on my hand remained steady. I was hyper-aware of the way his fingers fit around mine, protective yet gentle, like a tether keeping me from drifting away in the wonder of it all. We moved in unison, our steps echoing softly along the stone walkway.
“This is beautiful,” I whispered, my voice barely rising above the hushed murmurs of the other walkers.
He glanced down at me, his expression softer than I’d ever seen. “Some traditions have a way of reminding us of what matters.”
“This is beautiful,” I whispered, my voice barely rising above the hushed murmurs of the other walkers.
Thadron glanced down at me, his expression softer than I’d ever seen. “Some traditions have a way of reminding us of what matters.”
My curiosity sparked, and a topic I’d been wanting to bring up presented itself. “You keep mentioning traditions, but it feels like there’s more to it than that.” I gathered my thoughts, hesitating briefly. “And earlier tonight, when you were singing under the walkway, I felt like I was taken somewhere else.”
He looked at me, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”
I swallowed, unsure how to explain it without sounding silly. “I heard your voice at the ambassador dinner in Kajal too. I thought it was just my imagination, but tonight when you were singing, I saw visions. Flashes of a different place. It was like I was living the memory with you.” I bit my lip. “I didn’t want you to think I was eavesdropping.”
Thadron’s eyes narrowed as if weighing my words. He exhaled. “It’s not eavesdropping. It’s my ability. Some Glaciarians are born with a gift. We call itsongweaving. Our voices can carry memories and emotions to others. It seems you’re more attuned to it than most.”
I blinked, his explanation settling over me. “So when you sing, you’re sharing your memories?”
“Not always, or intentionally, but many of the songs I sing are woven from my past experiences. The stronger the memory, the more vivid the vision.”
I took it all in, seeking to understand. “Tonight, when you were singing, I saw a muddy field. There was fire and smoke on the horizon. It felt heavy like...loss.”
His jaw tightened, the softness in his eyes giving way to shadows. He turned his gaze to the shimmering lights above us, the colors reflected in his irises. “It was a battle. We were fighting against Quareks trying to breach Glaciara’s defenses.”
I listened quietly, the weight of his words pressing against my chest.
“As master-at-arms, I supplied the troops, trained them, and led them into that chaos.” His voice was low, tight with control. “We won, but too many lives were lost. Good soldiers trusted me.” He took a slow breath. “It happened several winters ago during this season, right when the celebrations were supposed to begin. I returned to people celebrating while I carried the burden of what we’d sacrificed.”
I looked up at him, seeing beyond his stoic demeanor to the person beneath — a person wrapped in guilt, regret, and duty. The festivities and traditions weren’t just reminders of joy. They were reminders of what he’d lost.