.
caitria’s smile deepened, her lips curving in quiet delight as he spoke. tion peake. she knew the name well—had tucked it away along with a dozen others, each belonging to a man of ambition, power, or proximity to both. but tion had always stood out.
not just because he held a seat on the council, though that was reason enough to pay attention. but because he watched. and that set him apart from the louder, hungrier sort of men who tended to gather like flies around court. tonight he seemed to be the kind of man who didn’t often seek out the center of a room, but who noticed everyone in it. she had been waiting for the moment his gaze found her.
and now that it had, she wasn’t about to waste it.
cait tilted her head just slightly, enough for a few rye stalks woven into her crown to shift with the movement. her hand slid away from her goblet and came to rest gently at her waist, the gesture fluid, practiced—meant to draw the eye without appearing to try. "a partner worth dancing with," she echoed, as if tasting the phrase on her tongue. "that’s a high bar you’ve set for the evening, my lord. i do hope i live up to it."
there was a playful lilt to her words, but her eyes stayed locked with his, warm and steady. she extended her hand toward him, not with hesitation but with a measured grace, a flicker of anticipation threading through her chest.
her smile was warm, genuine as she followed him out to the dance floor. stepping in beside him, the distance between them closing like it had been always meant to.
"so tell me, lord peake," she asked, as they joined the others near the fires and fiddles, "are you the kind of man who dances for luck… or for something else entirely?"
he took her hand with more familiarity than formality, despite not knowing her beyond her name and her face. the clover siren, they called her, and looking at her now it was hard not to see the merit to the epithet. she was undoubtedly a good looking woman, clad in a gown that flattered her perfectly, her movements graceful and poised. exactly the type of woman he had always given a second glance, and now had he had made a name for himself, could ask to dance in the assurance she would accept.
he let out a low chuckle as he led her to the dancefloor, the sound rich, coming from deep in his chest. "you'll do your best, i'm sure," he shot her a look that held in it a hint of playfulness. "but it's a bar i'm certain you can clear with ease." a misplaced confidence, perhaps. he had never seen caitria blackbar dance, after all.
they began to dance, and for a moment, the conversation paused as they attempted to find rhythm with one another, his free hand settling on her waist as they took to the dancefloor. his had cocked as he looked at her, taking a moment to consider how to answer her question. "i suppose that depends on the night. sometimes luck is all a man can ask for."
he released her waist briefly, holding their arms aloft so she could spin underneath them. "but i didn't come here tonight for luck." he had come here because he had agreed on an alliance with lady seffora, but he didn't say that aloud. "if luck is what you're after, i hear the rye stalks are brimming with the stuff. you might have stacked the deck in your favour already," he nodded to her choice of headwear.
.
caitria laughed, her head tipping back slightly as she twirled beneath his hand, the silk of her gown catching the firelight like liquid gold. when she returned to his side, her palm met his once again, fingers light, but not tentative. she danced like someone who understood rhythm not just with her body, but with her whole being. timing, cadence, knowing when to lean in and when to hold something back.
"so you didn’t come for luck." she echoed, her voice velvet-smooth over the swell of the strings. "now... that is an answer that invites more questions than it answers, lord peake."
her gaze lingered on his, thoughtful now, not teasing…but not entirely sincere, either. the clover siren knew how to balance the illusion of openness with the art of withholding. it was part of the game. still, there was a curious tilt to her head as she studied him.
her lips quirked. "maybe you came here hoping to be charmed by women in rye and silk. there certainly are plenty here"
she let the beat pass before adding, "though if it was the headpiece that drew you in, i’ll be sure to wear wheat next time we meet and see what might happen" she joked with him
cait’s tone was light, but her fingers tightened just slightly in his as they spun once more, drawing closer than before. her voice softened, and though it was still warm, there was a flicker of sincerity beneath it now. "but i could give you a piece of rye…for luck if you need it"

















