~ ~ ~Chains of Starlight~ ~ ~

Chapter Six: Starlace

"And politics. And poison, depending on your taste."

His gaze dipped—once. Then returned to her eyes, unreadable.

"You wear it well."

"I wear everything well."

That flicker in his expression—approval? amusement? pride?—flickered like static between them before he turned to the gathered masses.

"Honored Regents. Sovereigns. Witnesses of war and bearers of peace," he said, voice clear. "Tonight we gather not for conquest... but curiosity."

Murmurs.

"A human stands among you. Not by accident. Not by force. But by choice."

Kyla's fingers curled.

Liar.

"Vaulron Prime does not fear the unknown," Nadyr continued. "We study it. We honor it. We protect it."

You cage it, she thought. And call it mercy.

Then—he turned.

Offered his hand.

"Shall we begin the evening with the Dance of Sovereigns?"

Her spine straightened.

A refusal would shame him—and her. An acceptance would play into his game.

So she smiled tightly, before placing her hand in his.

The moment they touched, something snapped—like air charged before lightning. A flicker passed between their fingers, and Nadyr's jaw ticked.

The music began.

Not music as she knew it. Deep harmonics, alien chords stitched from gravity and light. The floor itself pulsed faintly in response. A rhythm of stars.

She followed.

They moved together—imperfectly at first, then smoother. Her body learned as it went, responding instinctively to the pull of his form, the guiding hand at her waist, the glint in his eye that made her heart skip for reasons she refused to name.

"You enjoy this far too much," she muttered.

"I've never danced before," he said.

She arched a brow. "Liar."

A pause.

"No need. Until now."

His grip tightened.

"You want me to be your spectacle," she said coldly.

"You are not a spectacle."

"Then what am I?"

"A variable," he whispered. "A beautiful, uncontrollable variable."

She stopped.

"Let. Go."

"Kyla—"

She yanked free, heels biting into the floor. And walked off the dance floor.

She didn't know why she was angry, but she was. He saw her as a science experiment, and that drove her furious. She wanted... more meaning. 

Ugh

A server appeared—petal-eyed, jade-skinned, draped in translucent silk. They offered a chalice of luminous liquid, swirling like molten pearls.

Kyla didn't hesitate.

She downed it .

Gasps erupted around the room. The music stumbled. Whispers surged.

The translator buzzed: ["Warning:—sensitive species—unauthorized dosage—"]

It was already too late.

Her pulse exploded. Blood shimmered. Her vision pulsed with color.

Velvet heat. Sound became texture. Gravity flirted.

Nadyr was at her side in an instant.

"You drank Starlace," he said, barely hiding the edge in his voice. "You shouldn't take what you don't understand."

She leaned toward him, breath laced with heat and defiance. "I understood it perfectly."

"Oh? Did you?" he asked, voice tighter now.  

"It looked beautiful," she whispered. "And I was angry."

His fingers twitched.

"At me?"

"Always."

And then she laughed. A low, raw sound. Wild and bright and cracked with fire.

She stepped away.

And the court descended.

Compliments. Curious hands. Regal flirtations.

"You are exquisite," one murmured. "Does your Sovereign allow conversation?"

"He doesn't allow anything."

Laughter. Gasps. Her name repeated in alien tongues.

And across the room—Nadyr burned.

He didn't move. But the air around him darkened.

Then—

She laughed again. Full. Unfiltered.

And he was there.

He reached her in three strides.

The other regents recoiled. They felt it—his storm.

"You've made your point," he said, voice low, controlled.

She tilted her head. "Which point is that?"

"That you can stir an empire with a glance."

"No," she said, stepping closer, breath laced with Starlace fire. "That I don't belong to anyone. Not even you." She poked his chest with her index finger.

He exhaled.

Her scent. Her flush. Her spark. All of it dragged something feral from beneath his ribs.

"Come with me," he said.

"Are you asking, or commanding?"

His voice cracked. "Asking."

She smiled  and followed.

They entered a chamber made of glass. Stars flowed around them like a river.

He turned—

She kissed him.

Not out of obedience. Not because he summoned her. Because something in her—fierce, incandescent—chose him, even if only for a heartbeat.

Her lips tasted like rebellion. Like Starlace and fury and grief twisted into desire.

A soft gasp, her hands pressing to his chest, her lips urgent and Starlace-sweet. He froze—then pulled her close with a groan he couldn't contain.

Their bodies collided—fire and fate.

He had meant to put distance between them. He failed.

She wasn't sure if this was her, or the Starlace. Uncertain if it mattered anymore.

She pressed him back against the glass wall.

"You're still mine," He growled.

She contested back, her breath at his ear:

"Not tonight. Tonight, you are mine."

And neither of them pulled away.

The stars watched. And somewhere deep in the palace, something began to unravel.