Girl.
GIRL.
That was flirting. Blatant, canon-level flirting. And I was not emotionally equipped for that while holding a fancy cup and being soaked in magical drizzle.
"Sure," I said weakly. "You can… visit."
He chuckled—CHUCKLED—and walked away to join his council, leaving me clinging to the railing like a faint Victorian maiden.
Meanwhile… Still no Princess Milabuella. Still no Sir Alex.
But at this point? I no longer cared.
The rain fell harder, but the deck glowed brighter.
The icepeople danced, the thunder rolled, the air thick with music and grilled meat and joy.
It felt like a long nightmare had ended. Like we had breathed life back into an ancient world. I looked at my people—laughing, eating, being chaotic—and felt something warm inside me.
Tomorrow, Viking and his people would return north to fix their land, rebuild their homes, restore their lives.
But tonight? We feasted. We celebrated. We lived.
And I, Seraphine…I felt alive too or drunk.
*****
