How to Make a Sinner Sleep

93 | drowning; in the weight of emotions

A scene woven from the most detailed descriptions came to life in the nearby castle owned by the Academy. Decadent halls of sculpted marble and gold encased designs, lights filling the expanse of space.

Delicate sparks of pale blue and pink flickered in the air, cast by various blessings or the magical trickery of the Fae.

Dresses twirled, billowing as they spun in their sheets of lace and luxurious fabric.

In the shadows, an emptied glass of wine in hand, stood a pink-haired man with a glazed look over his eyes. One who glanced over merely thought him to be a little tipsy from the atmosphere and alcohol.

Beside him, a small table held several more emptied glasses. There was a disorder to his fine appearance, dressed in a fitted suit that outlined his long limbs. A contradiction in his attire and atmosphere.

The pair of sharp emerald eyes raked through the busy crowds, seeing far more unfamiliar faces than familiar.

He'd intended to look for his friends upon arriving—but he came following Skye, who had been by his side when he woke. He'd been sleeping for several days, and the slipping time raced past him again.

Already, the dance was here. And yet, he felt as if he were still trapped in the present of the months prior.

He raised an arm unsteadily, feeling a disconnect of mind and body. Pain still throbbed in his bandaged hand, an ache that would likely never leave him. Kaden chewed his lips, grabbing another glass.

Reed had not appeared before him since.

And Kaden had escaped Skye, feeling an illness in the pits of his stomach at the mere visuals of the younger man.

He thought, most likely, that the young prince was searching through the crowd for him desperately, indifferent to all others that called for his attention. Like a child seeking their parents in a crowd of strangers.

Kaden scoffed.

Was he pitying that prince in his current state?

He felt a simultaneous spark of unyielding terror and empty numbness. He was awake, and he was not. He was there, and he was elsewhere.

He didn't want to be here.

The man turned at his heels, slipping out the back doors. Into the courtyard where newly trimmed bushes bristled in the wind, slips of fog trailed along the ground under the dim moon's glare.

The fog dispersed slightly, revealing a standing figure with an inked hand held out, fingers curved slightly in beckoning.

"Can you dance?" came the unexpected question.

Kaden lowered his eyes cautiously, as if wondering if the dragon before him was another illusion. "When did you get here?"

A tentative question—he did not want to shatter the illusion.

"We were looking for you." replied Noah quietly.

His words did not state how long they were looking. For the days of absence in which Kaden had been sleeping. For days that they didn't know where he was.

Kaden didn't take the initiative to explain either. Seeing that, something cold snaked into the dragon's simmering gaze, setting his smoky grey eyes into a fathomless black. They reflected the man before them possessively, capturing the image in dark pupils.

"I've never danced before," said Kaden instead. "Not really. You also don't look like the type to dance, Bellamy."

"I can show you."