Chapter 3:

Dancing, Love and Wolf

A Wolf's Kiss

It turned out that the event immediately following the feast was dancing.

A band appeared as if summoned from nowhere, carrying instruments Joash couldn’t even begin to name. Within moments, a lively tune spilled into the wide hall, bright and infectious. Couples quickly formed, filling the center while others laughed, drank, and clapped along from the edges.

Joash had never seen so much laughter gathered in one place.

Foebe, still holding his hand, noticed his stunned expression and giggled.

“I hope you know how to dance.”

He shook his head honestly.

“I’ve never danced in my life.”

She laughed, utterly delighted.

“Well then, this’ll be exciting, won’t it?”

She didn’t give him a chance to question that statement. With a sudden tug, she pulled him into the center of the space as cheers rose around them. Panic flared - briefly - but it vanished almost as quickly as it came.

Foebe was a magnificent dancer.

So much so that despite Joash having no idea what he was doing, his body moved as if it had always known. His feet followed hers effortlessly, steps flowing one into the next with unnatural ease.

She beamed at him, fangs flashing as she spun.

“There you go! See? You’re doing it!”

He stared at her, wide-eyed.

“I-I am?”

Her laughter rang out again.

“I’m helping you, silly! Magic! Isn’t it amazing?”

Ah.

That explained a lot.

He twirled her under his arm as he spoke, the movement coming naturally.

“What kind of magic?”

She grinned, leaning back as he caught her without hesitation.

“I blessed your shoes! As long as you’re wearing them, you dance like a master!”

He blinked. She could do that?

He didn’t get time to process it.

The music surged, faster and bolder, and suddenly he was lifting her - lifting her - until she stood balanced on his shoulder, laughing freely as she spun across before he guided her safely back down. The crowd erupted, clapping and whooping in delight.

Only then did Joash realize something.

They were the only ones dancing.

The guests had formed a wide circle, fully absorbed in the spectacle unfolding before them. Heat rushed to his face, embarrassment creeping in - but Foebe was radiant, laughing as though she’d never been allowed to laugh like this before.

And before he knew it, he was laughing too.

They danced - truly danced - perfectly in sync, spinning and leaping in the center of the cheering crowd until the song finally came to an end. Both of them were panting, breathless as if they’d run marathons, as thunderous applause washed over them.

They looked at each other.

Nothing needed to be said.

Then Foebe smiled, took his hands again, and as the next song began - slow, soft, and gentle - the circle dissolved. Couples paired off, bodies drawing close as the pace of the night shifted.

Despite their exhaustion, Joash and Foebe joined in.

They moved together, steps smaller now, deliberate and careful, guided by magic and instinct alike. Their breathing slowly steadied as they swayed, eyes locked, the world narrowing to the space between them.

His easy brown hair drifted across his forehead, stubbornly refusing to stay in place. Foebe noticed. The urge to brush it aside tugged at her, but neither of them could bring themselves to break the moment.

So instead, they held each other - arms light but certain - and let the music carry them.

Their thoughts tangled together in wonder, curiosity, and something warm that neither of them was quite ready to name.

Night fell, and one by one the guests began to depart. Joash did his best to keep up with Foebe, following her through the winding paths of tradition he didn’t yet understand.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out what was expected of him.

Without warning, the remaining guests began to herd them forward, laughter rising as they guided - no, ushered - the newlyweds ahead of them. Foebe’s grip on his hand tightened, worry flashing across her face as they were steered out the front doors and onto cool, dark grass.

Joash tried to ask what was happening, but the voices around them were too loud, the night too full of noise. They were hurried through the darkness toward a small building set slightly apart from the others.

Before he could properly see it, they were pushed inside.

The doors slammed shut behind them.

Locks clicked.

Joash spun around too late to stop it, his heart pounding as silence settled. Flickering candlelight revealed the room - and its purpose immediately.

A bed.

A large one, draped in clean, carefully arranged sheets, pillows fluffed and waiting. The entire building was nothing more than this single bedroom. When he looked back at the entrance, he noticed something else - there were two sets of doors, like an airlock.

Privacy.

He swallowed. He knew exactly what this place was for.

Foebe stood beside him, tense. Even in the dim light, he could see her worry.

He decided to speak first.

“It doesn’t feel right, does it?”

Her reply came small, but carried unmistakable relief.

“No. It doesn’t.”

He smiled gently.

“It is nice of them to give us somewhere to sleep, though.”

She let out a short, breathy laugh.

“Tradition.”

“Even so.”

She hesitated, then sighed.

“Because my species is so fragile… we’re expected to conceive a child on the wedding night. To ensure we don’t die out.”

Joash’s throat tightened.

But before he could respond, she shook her head.

“I don’t know. Something feels wrong about it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said softly. “I know what you mean.”

And he did. Married or not, they’d known each other for mere hours.

He smiled again.

“How tired are you?”

She returned it.

“Very.”

“Well,” he said lightly, “looks like we’re sharing a bed anyway.”

She nodded, then hesitated.

“You first.”

He climbed in, finding the bed surprisingly comfortable as he shifted beneath the covers. Before he could fully settle, Foebe slipped in beside him. Her tail brushed against his leg before coming to rest there, warm and impossibly soft.

He shivered.

When he looked over, she was already facing him, her head on the neighboring pillow, smiling faintly.

“I feel like there’s something you want to ask me,” she said, “but I don’t know what.”

He nodded.

“Yeah. I was wondering… why the first six said no.”

Her expression fell.

“The ritual only works if the summoned person’s feelings are genuine and well-intentioned,” she explained quietly. “Of the six, only one actually said no. The others said yes, but they didn’t truly believe they could love me. Or protect me. Or treat me well.”

She swallowed.

“So the summoning rejected them. They returned to the afterlife. And each time… I faded a little more.”

Then she smiled again - soft, warm.

“And then you came along.”

Everything clicked into place.

That was why she trusted him. Why she felt safe. Magic itself had confirmed it.

His cheeks warmed, thankfully hidden by candlelight.

“So that’s why…”

She nodded.

“Mm.”

There was a pause. Then she shifted closer.

“Oh, and I said I’d show my appreciation earlier. So… I will.”