The dim glow of enchanted lanterns flickered across the polished wooden floors of the private ballroom. The grand hall, nestled within the heart of House Ernas' estate, was empty save for two figures standing in its center—Brago and Jirni.
Jirni, ever composed, stood with her arms crossed, one eyebrow arched. "A ballroom? I thought you'd take me somewhere a bit more… unpredictable."
Brago smirked, his golden eyes gleaming beneath the candlelight. "Oh, I fully intend to surprise you."
He flicked his wrist, and the room shifted. The walls darkened as shadows danced along the edges, moving as if alive. The lights dimmed, replaced by a soft silver glow—moonlight conjured by his magic. The very air thickened with anticipation.
Jirni's gaze flickered to the shifting illusions, but she remained composed. "Impressive. A little dramatic, perhaps, but effective."
Brago chuckled. "It's a special occasion. You hardly give me the opportunity to spoil you."
Jirni let out a soft scoff. "That's because I don't need to be spoiled."
Brago stepped closer, his movements precise yet casual. "Indulge me, then."
With a snap of his fingers, music filled the room—a slow, deliberate waltz. He extended a hand.
Jirni narrowed her eyes. "You expect me to dance?"
Brago's smirk deepened. "I expect you to keep up."
Jirni hesitated for only a second before slipping her hand into his. In an instant, he pulled her forward, guiding her into a fluid step. She followed seamlessly, their movements elegant and sharp, like two blades meeting in a duel.
The music swelled, and the shadows moved with them, curling around their forms like a cloak. Jirni's sharp mind cataloged everything—his footwork, the slight tension in his grip, the way his golden eyes never left hers.
He wasn't just dancing. He was testing her.
Jirni smirked. "Is this a date or a tactical assessment?"
Brago chuckled, spinning her effortlessly. "Why not both?"
Jirni rolled her eyes, but she couldn't deny it—she was enjoying herself. There was a thrill in the way he moved, the way he anticipated her reactions.
Then, without warning, Brago changed the rhythm. He stepped forward suddenly, pressing her closer. The air between them shifted—charged, electric.
Jirni's breath hitched, but she refused to break composure. "Careful, Brago. You're playing a dangerous game."
Brago leaned in slightly, his lips curving near her ear. "And you love dangerous games."
Jirni's fingers tightened slightly in his grasp. Damn him.
With a smirk, she took the lead—twisting the dance in her favor, flipping his own momentum against him. Brago allowed it, laughing under his breath.
The waltz came to a slow stop, and for a moment, neither of them moved. They were close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath, the steady pulse beneath his skin.
Brago tilted his head. "So? Did I impress you?"
Jirni exhaled softly, then smiled—a small, knowing smile. "A little."
Brago chuckled, stepping back slightly but never letting go of her hand. "High praise, coming from you."
Jirni studied him, her sharp eyes gleaming. "Next time, I choose the game."
Brago grinned. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
And as the enchanted lanterns flickered, their shadows intertwined—just like the two of them, locked in a game neither truly wanted to win.