Long Live | | Helion

10

A friend could ask a friend to dance at a party, Helion decided. It was perfectly reasonable. Emelia and Azriel were just friends and they danced. It was normal and reasonable.

The other males waiting to ask her to dance stepped back when they realized Helion's intention. The irony wasn't lost on him—all those males stepping aside because he was High Lord when that was the reason she didn't want him.

"Emelia," he greeted when she drifted away from the male she had been dancing with at the end of the song, "may I?"

"Of course, High Lord," Emelia replied, and the smile she gave him was nothing like the one she gave all those other males she danced with. Not even close to it. Still painfully beautiful, but entirely disinterested.

"I'll hear you say my name one day," he half-jokes as they began dancing. "Have you taken a liking to any of the males you've danced with?"

"Oh, hardly," she answered in amusement, "this is a very high class party. Not where my interest typically lies."

"And, yet, you've ensured them all," he teased, "even now, they stare."

"That could be credited to the fact that you're their High Lord," she reminded him, "it's hardly about me."

As if everything hadn't become about her. As if he hadn't been quietly obsessing over her since the first moment he looked at her. As if at least half of these males looked like they might fall down that same hole of obsession.

"You forget how beautiful you are," he said instead of saying any of those other things that crossed his mind. The compliment didn't seem to land well. Briefly—oh, so briefly—she scowled as if he had somehow deeply offended her. Then her smile returned to her lips and her eyes reflected nothing but peaceful indifference.

"I am quite beautiful, aren't I?" she mused, thumb swiping back and forth against where her hand held his. "And what a valuable commodity beauty is. As if it's something rare."

"Is it not?" Helion asked despite knowing he should let the subject drop.

Emelia only shrugged.

"There are different types of beauty, I think," Helion began, "cold, warm, natural, subjective, undeniable. And all-consuming."

And what type of beauty was she? All of them. Cold, in those brief moments when he could tell just by that calculating look she sometimes got in her eyes that she had once been cold for the sake of survival. Warm, when she looked at Azriel. Natural, as she dazzled the entire room with a simple smile. Subjective, when he could not see her and still found himself adoring something as simple as her handwriting in a letter. Undeniable, as she commanded the attention of the entire party without caring. And all-consuming. So utterly all-consuming that just the thought of touching anyone else made him sick and the thought of wanting anyone else was laughable. All-consuming beyond any measure he could think of.

"How poetic," Emelia murmured, clearly done with this subject.

He stayed quiet after that, pulling her just the slightest bit close as they danced. And he knew he could never dance with anyone else again. What would the point be? He had never felt so simultaneously out of his depth and right at home as he felt dancing with Emelia. So fast, she had become everything.

And then the song ended and she smiled at him like she smiled at friends—at Cassian and at Feyre and at people she was not interested in. She drifted off to another male and danced with him for three songs before Helion watched them sneak away from the party together. He wouldn't be so bitter about if she hadn't somehow managed to find the absolute worst male in the bunch and pick him. Cauldron, why did it have to be him? The male had nothing going for him beyond being his parents' only child. He was notorious for being an utter embarrassment to the family.

"You've got that look on your face like your wondering how she managed to find the worst male in the room," Feyre commented, and Helion looked to her with raised eyebrows. "It's a talent of hers. She can find the worst male in any room."

"He's not...he is. He's the worst."

"I'm certain Az wants to kill at least half of the males she spends her time with," Feyre mused, "he's supportive but he secretly hates it. I used to wonder if he was attracted to her."

"I thought the same. He said there's nothing there. Just friends," Helion replied before letting out a sigh and rolling his eyes at himself. "It's hardly my place to be concerned about these things though."

"You can be concerned as her friend," she offered up, and he almost rolled his eyes again.

"I think it would be best for both of us if I didn't spend any time dwelling on her romantic endeavors," he said simply, knowing he would not be able to stand thinking about her finding the worst male in every room. "How is it being in a different Court than Nyx for the first time?"

"I know Elain is taking excellent care of him but it's not something I'll do again any time soon. I've almost winnowed back home twenty times already. Rhys too. I don't think either of us were prepared. We might go home tonight after the party ends. Don't mention it to Azriel and Emelia. I want them to stay and have their fun."

Helion gave a noncommittal hum. He doubted he'd see Emelia again tonight anyway, and Azriel exited shortly after she did. It was clear he had only come at all for her sake.

"I'm sorry, Helion," Feyre apologized suddenly, "I shouldn't have encouraged your interest in her that first day. I thought maybe...I don't know what I thought. I knew it wouldn't work."

"But you hoped I might be able to make her happy," he filled in, and she sighed.

"I hoped you might be able to make each other happy."