So absorbed were they in each other’s company that Iris was genuinely startled when the chimes began to ring out across the market, signaling that closing time approached. “Oh!” she exclaimed, dismay evident in her voice. “I had no idea it had grown so late. My grandparents will be waiting for me.”
“Allow me to escort you back to your meeting point,” Jasvian offered, his expression suggesting he shared her disappointment at the evening’s conclusion.
They walked in companionable silence through the market, now noticeably less crowded as vendors began packing away their wares, and discovered Iris’s missing glove as they passed the crystal vendor’s stall. She pulled both gloves back on as the floating lanterns began to descend, their light dimming slightly as they prepared to guide the last patrons toward the exits.
As they neared the main thoroughfare, Iris spotted her grandparents standing with Lady Lelianna Rowanwood and Rosavyn. Charlotte, Iris noted, must have already departed. Her grandmother’s expression was fixed in a familiar frown, and Iris braced herself for disapproval—she had, after all, left her grandparents in the company of two young ladies, only to return quite conspicuously escorted by Lord Rowanwood himself.
“Iris, dear, there you are,” her grandmother said as they reached the group. But as they drew closer, Iris saw with a surge of relief that the frown was gone. In its place was an expression of keen interest, directed squarely at Jasvian. “Lord Rowanwood, how unexpected to see you here. I trust my granddaughter has not imposed upon too much of your valuable time this evening.”
“Lady Iris’s company has been nothing but a pleasure,” Jasvian replied with formal politeness, though the warmth in his voice remained.
Her grandfather regarded them with poorly concealed curiosity. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your first Night Market, Iris. Did Lord Rowanwood show you the harpist’s magical display? It was particularly impressive this year.”
Iris felt heat inch its way up her neck as she recalled the luminous symphony of melody and water—and, more significantly, the moment when Jasvian’s fingers had interlaced with her own, his thumb tracing patterns against her skin. “Yes, it was remarkable,” she replied, hoping her flush wouldn’t be visible in the dimming light.
“Well, we should be on our way,” her grandmother said, glancing between Iris and Jasvian with a thoughtful expression. “Though perhaps Lord Rowanwood would care to call on us tomorrow afternoon? We’re hosting a small gathering in the garden, nothing too formal.”
“I would be honored,” Jasvian replied without hesitation, his gaze finding Iris’s. “If Lady Iris has no objection?”
“No objection at all,” Iris said, aware of Rosavyn’s increasingly intrigued stare.
“Until tomorrow, then,” Jasvian said with a formal bow to the group, though his eyes remained on Iris. “Good night, Lady Iris. I shall?—”
He stopped abruptly, his entire demeanor transforming in an instant. The warm light in his eyes extinguished, replaced by a distant, unfocused stare. His face drained of color, and his breathing became rapid, shallow. The relaxed set of his shoulders vanished as his entire body tensed.
“No,” he murmured, so quietly Iris barely heard it.
“Jasvian?” his mother asked, stepping forward with one hand extended. “What is?—”
“No, no, no,” he muttered, his gaze still focused somewhere distant as his breathing became rapid, shallow. With a jerkybow that barely acknowledged the group, he stammered, “Please excuse me. I must go.”
Then, to the astonishment of everyone present, he turned and ran—not the measured, dignified departure of a gentleman, but a desperate, headlong rush—shoving his way through the thinning crowd with complete disregard for propriety until he disappeared from view.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jasvian ran.He tore through the thinning crowds of the Stardust Night Market with a single-minded desperation, his lungs burning, his heart hammering against his ribs. The floating lanterns that had seemed so enchanting moments ago now registered as mere obstacles, bright blurs in his peripheral vision as he dodged past startled patrons and bewildered vendors.
“Lord Rowanwood!” someone called after him. “Is everything?—”
But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t explain, couldn’t waste a single precious second. Every moment mattered now.
It had struck him without warning, a distant tremor at the edge of his consciousness. At first, he’d thought it merely his imagination. After all, the mines were dormant for the Bloom Season. Undisturbed by mining activity, the raw lumyrite should have settled, its volatile magic finding its natural balance once more. Yet the sensation had persisted, swelling almost instantly from faint unease to unmistakable dread. A tempest was building in the north.
Jasvian burst out of the market grounds and raced to the end of the bridge, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Cross the park,reach the carriage, make for The Confluence. If only he himself could move at the speed of magic.
He pushed himself harder, guilt slicing through him with each pounding step. How had he missed the early warning signs? He should have felt something earlier, should have been more vigilant. Instead, he’d allowed himself to become distracted, entranced by pleasant conversation and the warmth of Iris’s company. While he had been indulging in the simple pleasure of her hand in his, the tempest had been gathering strength, building toward disaster.
His carriage waited at the edge of Elderbloom Park, and he was endlessly grateful he’d chosen one of the swift enchanted vehicles rather than a traditional horse-drawn affair. This one could reach speeds that would make the wheels barely kiss the ground. The door swung wide of its own accord as he approached, and he leaped inside before the step had even descended.
“The Confluence!” he gasped, slamming a palm against the carriage’s interior wall. “As fast as possible!”
The carriage lurched into motion almost immediately. Inside, Jasvian gripped the leather seat, every nerve in his body straining northward as if he could somehow reach across the distance through will alone. The mines themselves were sealed, thankfully—no workers deep within the earth to be caught unaware. But the caretaker and the handful of guards maintaining the surface buildings and workshops … they were still there. If the tempest erupted before Jasvian got there, it would cause devastating damage, collapsing tunnels and potentially wrecking the structures above, endangering those few lives left to stand watch.
Even if it was only one life, if would be one too many. This was his responsibility, and if he failed now like he’d failed the day his?—
No.He would not allow himself to think about that. Not now. Not when every second might mean the difference between safety and catastrophe.
“Faster,” he muttered to the carriage. “Please, faster.”
