Chapter 52 52- Never Follow Him Somewhere Quiet
LEXI
Everything here is GORGEOUS. I was a little surprised when I first heard the dance was going to be outside. I had imagined something indoors, ballroom floors, chandeliers, maybe something overly formal and stuffy. But now that I’m actually standing in the courtyard, I completely understand why they chose this. The space has been transformed. Vines trail up the stone walls, thick and lush, curling around archways and balconies as if they’ve always belonged there. Some of them are dotted with tiny blossoms that glow faintly, their light soft and warm rather than harsh. Above us, magic lights float in the air, no wires, no visible source, just gentle orbs and strands of illumination suspended like captured starlight. They sway slightly, responding to movement or maybe the music, which seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. I tilt my head, trying to work out where the sound is actually coming from, but I can’t pinpoint it. There are no musicians, no speakers, nothing obvious. It’s just… There. Wrapping around the space, weaving between conversations and laughter. Off to the sides of the courtyard, long tables are stacked with food, more than I expected. Plates of pastries, fruit, roasted vegetables, meats, breads, and things I don’t even recognise. Candles and lanterns are scattered everywhere, but instead of flames they hold contained magical light, glowing steadily without smoke or heat. And then there’s the fountain. The phoenix fountain was already impressive during the day, but now it’s something else entirely. The water catches the light and reflects it back in shifting colours, gold, orange, red, so that it looks like liquid fire flowing over stone. The effect is hypnotic. For a second, I just stand there staring, completely absorbed. Blake gives my arm a gentle tug, grounding me, and I realise I’ve stopped walking.
“Oh wow…” I murmur, finally tearing my gaze away. That’s when I start really noticing the outfits. Everyone is dressed up, but not in the same way. There’s no single style or theme beyond difference. Contrast. Opposites. My eyes catch on Mallory almost immediately. She’s standing a few steps behind Aaron, angled just enough that it’s obvious who she’s focused on. She’s wearing a deep grey velvet gown, the fabric rich and heavy-looking, with fur edging at the sleeves and neckline. When she moves, I notice shadowy shapes woven into the velvet, wolves, I think. Running between trees, barely visible unless the light hits them just right. Her jewellery is all silver, intricate and sharp-edged, catching the glow of the lanterns. I want to say she looks awful, but that would be a lie. She looks… Lovely. Polished. Powerful, even. But, a little guiltily, I realise I still like my own outfit better. I spot other students too, someone in pale green silk that shifts colour when they move, another in layered reds and golds that look almost molten, a pair across the courtyard whose outfits clearly mirror each other in inverted colours. Some combinations are obvious. Others make no sense at all, at least not yet. I take photos as fast as I can without being obvious, of the vines, the lights, the fountain, the way the courtyard glows. A couple of quick ones of Blake and me too, because I know I’ll want to remember this later. Eventually, Blake tightens his hold on my arm just a little and starts steering me away.
“Food.” He says simply. I laugh but let him drag me toward the tables, still half-distracted, still buzzing with excitement. Honestly? If this is what the Academy does for a welcome dance, I can’t even imagine what the rest of the year is going to be like.
The food tables are… Dangerous. I don’t even know where to start. There are pastries and fruit and things dipped in honey, but what really gets my attention, what completely derails me, is the chocolate fountain. Real, glossy, cascading chocolate, flowing smoothly down tiered metal like it’s some kind of sacred offering. I grab a little cookie breadstick thing and dip it in without hesitation. Oh. Oh no. This is excellent. From then on, I’m a little bit feral about it. Probably dangerous considering my dress is pure white, but I can’t resist it. I alternate between breadsticks and slices of fruit, carefully coating each one before eating it with zero shame. Blake watches me for a moment, eyebrow raised, then shakes his head slightly like he’s decided this is just who I am now. The rest of the table isn’t just party food either. There are actual meals laid out, thick slices of steak, roasted meats, things that are very clearly meant for more carnivorous species. Blake helps himself without hesitation, and once he does, the area around our end of the table becomes conspicuously empty. No one approaches. No one even hovers. Blake eats in peace, entirely uninterrupted, and honestly? That’s fine. They can wait. It’s not like there’s a shortage of food. If people are too intimidated to share a table, that’s their problem. Eventually, once I’m satisfied that Blake has eaten enough to not murder anyone out of hunger, I clear my throat. Pointedly. He looks at me, then follows my gaze to the dance floor. His expression shifts immediately. Wary and thoughtful.
“You don’t have to.” He says, already preparing to retreat. I tilt my head.
“You think you can’t do it?” I challenge. That does it. His eyes narrow slightly, pride flickering to life.
“I didn’t say that.” He says defensively.
“Mhm…” I hum, unconvinced.
“I can dance.” He insists.
“Then prove it.” I dare him. There’s a beat of silence. Then Blake sets his plate aside, rises to his feet, and offers me his hand like this was his idea all along. His other hand settles at my back as he guides me toward the dance floor, firm and possessive, and when he pulls me in, it’s closer than the music strictly requires. Very deliberately so. The crowd reacts instantly. People step back. Conversations falter. A wide, empty space opens around us as students subtly, and not so subtly, avoid dancing anywhere near a dragon and the girl on his arm. I notice it. Then I decide I don’t care. I focus on Blake instead. On the warmth of him, the steady pressure of his hand at my back, the way he moves with calm confidence despite clearly not being someone who dances often. I laugh when he misjudges a step. He smirks when I stumble slightly. It’s… Fun. Easy. When the music slows, he doesn’t hesitate. He pulls me even closer. One hand slides more securely around my waist, the other adjusting my hand where it rests against his shoulder. We sway instead of dance now, slow and unhurried, the world narrowing down to just the space between us. Blake is looking directly at me. Not scanning the crowd. Not watching for threats. Just me. That alone makes my pulse kick up a notch. He’s so warm, unnaturally so, and standing this close, moving like this, I can feel the heat of him seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. After a while, I start to overheat, my cheeks warm, my thoughts hazy in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature. Blake leans in slightly, as if to say something. My breath catches.
“I… Uh… I need a break.” I blurt out, flustered. Blake immediately pulls back. Not annoyed. Not disappointed. Just that familiar, infuriatingly calm smile,the one that says ‘I can wait.’
“Of course.” He says easily. He takes my hand again and leads me off the dance floor, guiding me away from the crowd and the heat, his touch steady and protective as ever. And as we step back into the quieter edges of the courtyard, I realise my heart is still racing, not from dancing, but from how close I let him get. And how much I didn’t want him to stop.
Blake leads me away from the dance floor and into one of the quieter corners of the courtyard, where the music fades into something softer and less insistent. It’s still there, but distant now, like a heartbeat instead of a command. Tall hedges and creeping vines block most of the view, and the lantern light here is dimmer, warmer. Private enough that I can finally breathe. Except… I can’t. Not properly. My heart is still racing, and I’m painfully aware of how close Blake is, how his presence seems to fill the space whether he’s touching me or not. I try very hard not to fidget, to look relaxed instead of like I’m wound too tight.
“That was…” I start, then stop, forcing myself to sound casual.
“You’re actually a surprisingly good dancer.” I comment, Blake gives a small shrug, like it’s nothing worth commenting on.
“I like music… And I like movement. Dancing always made sense to me.” He admits. I blink.
“Really?” I ask, surprised.
“Yes.” He says simply.
“I just never really had anyone to dance with before.” He adds. Something about the way he says it, so matter-of-fact, no bitterness, no self-pity, makes my chest feel tight in a completely unexpected way. I giggle before I can stop myself. He looks faintly offended.
“What?” He asks.
“I’m just…” I grin, unable to help it.
“I’m imagining you alone in your room, dancing by yourself.” I continue to laugh. His mouth twitches.
“I do not-” He starts, but I cut him off, already able to tell it’s a lie.
“You absolutely do.” I interrupt, laughing.
“Probably very seriously, too. Practicing in front of a mirror.” I tease.
“There is no mirror.” He says flatly.
“That doesn’t make it better.” I joke. I’m still smiling when I lean back against a low stone wall, the cool surface pressing through the thin fabric of my dress. My feet ache now that I’m standing still. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, considering sitting, when suddenly Blake steps closer. Very close.Before I can process what he’s doing, his hands are at my waist, firm, confident, and he lifts me with effortless ease, setting me down on the wall as if I weigh nothing at all. I suck in a sharp breath. The movement leaves us face to face, eye level, close enough that I can see the gold in his eyes catch the lantern light. My legs dangle slightly, my skirts pooling around me, and Blake stands between my knees without touching them. My pulse is loud in my ears. I’m nervous, so nervous, but I don’t pull away. Don’t tell him to stop. I just stay exactly where I am, hands braced lightly on the stone beside me, aware of every inch of space between us and how easily it could disappear. Blake watches me carefully, like he’s checking whether I’ll retreat. I don’t.