Chapter 35 A Dance with Octavian
A Dance with Octavian
I’d forgotten how graceful Octavian could be.
I’d forgotten what it felt like to be spinning around in his arms, floating, caught up in the dance. I’d forgotten how beautifully we moved together, how lovely and light and elegant he made me feel when we twirled as one.
In his arms, it was easy to ignore everything else.
There was only the music and his strong arms around me.
I didn’t even have to think about where to put my feet—it was as if I’d known how to dance like this all my life.
My layered skirts billowed around me as I spun, and I felt like something wild and beautiful and otherworldly.
Octavian watched me, his azure eyes burning with a dark intensity.
For a moment, it was just like that first night—when he was all charming smiles and I was all breathless enthusiasm and there was nothing more complicated between us.
When the song ended and another began, we kept dancing. But I felt the press of unspoken words in my throat, and I could only ignore them for so long.
“Did you find Radven and Alastor?” I blurted as we twirled by the orchestra. It wasn’t the most important of my questions, but it was the easiest.
Octavian gave a single nod. “They confirmed what Talon told us—that the additional armed forces and defenses that put my brothers on high alert are here to help protect the town from roving beasts.” His expression went hard.
“Something is very wrong in Therador. We don’t know if the Circle is to blame or if it goes beyond even them.
” His gaze softened on me as he added, “We should be safe here, though, at least for the time being. Talon’s birds are keeping watch for zhespers, and his network of contacts within the town is more extensive than I realized.
We’ll know if Laitha or Mordren or any other potential threats set foot within the walls, and even if they do, the crowds will help us disappear. ”
“So they can’t…sense us?” I asked. “Laitha can’t use her power to, I don’t know, sniff us out among all these people?”
He hesitated. “It’s possible. But it’s not easy. And she’d have to have something that contained our individual essence—like hair, or blood.” His eyes sharpened on mine. “Did she bleed you when you were her prisoner?”
“I—” I was so startled by the question that it took me a minute to form words. “No.”
“Take a lock of your hair?”
“Not to my knowledge.” This was all starting to skeeve me out a little.
“Then we should be fine.”
Despite his assurances, this conversation had unsettled me. And for the first time this evening, I felt a chill ripple down my spine.
Octavian noticed the change in me.
“You’re safe, Marigold,” he said, his deep voice like a wave sweeping over me, trying to draw me back into the warm security of his waters. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
But that wasn’t what had upset me—no, I was mourning the loss of the wonder I’d felt only moments before, the sense of magic that had followed me throughout this evening and filled me with such breathless, seductive longing for this strange world.
I wanted it back. I didn’t want to think about all the things that could go wrong, all the dangers that lurked at the edges of my vision—I wanted that enchantment back.
If only for a night.
Our feet carried us past someone with a tray full of drinks. I didn’t know where they'd come from or where they were going, but I released Octavian just long enough to reach out and pluck a goblet from the tray.
Nectar.
This time, I felt only the slightest twinge of trepidation before I raised it to my lips. I was desperate to drown the fear, to reclaim the wild openness I’d felt before. I tipped my head back and drank the whole thing at once.
Octavian’s blue eyes had narrowed with concern. “Marigold…”
“Let’s dance.” I abandoned the empty goblet on the grass and pulled him back into the current of dancers, and he caught me by the waist once more and spun me around, even though he still looked at me like I was some sort of soft, sensitive thing who had to be protected from her own impulses.
So what if I make a few bad decisions now and then? I thought as he spun me around. I’m strong enough to deal with the consequences. And in the meantime, at least they’re my decisions. It’s better than sitting home alone in my apartment, being too afraid to live.
My head was starting to feel light and dizzy, but I was pretty sure that was more from all the spinning than from the alcohol.
If it were the alcohol, I told myself, I would be tripping over my own feet.
But Octavian and I were as graceful as before, our bodies perfectly in tune with each other as we twirled to the swelling strains of the strings.
He still looked like he wanted to say something, though, so I cut him off before he could.
“I don’t want to think about anything unpleasant tonight,” I told him. “I don’t care if you think it’s foolish, or careless—I just want to live in the magic for a little while. The rest of it—the curses, and Laitha, and the monsters, and Esmerine—can wait.”
I didn’t realize I’d said her name out loud until Octavian’s nose twitched—but there was no recognition in his eyes when he asked, “Who’s Esmerine? One of Talon’s crew?”
I had no answer for that question. So instead, I said, “Kiss me.”
His eyes widened at my forwardness, but I didn’t let that stop me. The hand I had resting on his shoulder moved to the back of his neck and tugged his face down to mine.
If he was surprised, his body hadn’t gotten the memo.
The moment our lips touched, his mouth melted against mine with an urgency that suggested he’d been thinking about this all night.
The hand he had on my waist slid around to my lower back, dragging me against him and clasping our bodies together, soft curves against hard muscles.
My lips parted, my tongue flicking out to find his, and he answered with a groan that I couldn’t hear over the music—but I could feel vibrate all the way down to my core.
His fingers curled against my back, digging into me as if he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t control himself, wanted to drag me right into his body.
And then he lifted his head, pulling back. “Marigold—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I told him. We’d stopped moving, but the sea of dancers was parting around us, flowing past without missing a step.
“I don’t care if you can’t give me your heart.
It’s just a kiss, not a promise.” Tonight was just about holding on to the magic in front of me for as long as I could.
His hand came up, brushed a stray bit of hair away from my cheek. “I wish I could believe that you don’t care.” Even his touch felt like a kiss, the rough pads of his fingers moving across my skin with a tenderness that made my knees go weak.
“And I wish you’d take me at my word.” The Nectar was making me feel bold, so I added, “Even if you do break my heart, that doesn’t mean you’ll break me.”
That was, apparently, the worst thing I could have said. He peeled his hands away from me, looking at me as if I’d somehow just confirmed all of his worst fears.
And I was back at the bath—naked and hurt and humiliated.
“It’s fine,” I said, taking a step back and nearly colliding with a couple as they twirled past. “I get it.” I took a deep breath, trying to hold in the mad rush of emotions trying to force its way up my throat. “I’m sorry for pressing the issue, and I promise I won’t ever try to kiss you again.”
I spun away from him before I could say anything else—with the buzz of the Nectar coursing through my veins, I would only make this even more humiliating for myself if I kept talking—and quickly slipped through the dancers.
“Marigold!”
He chased me, just like he’d chased me from the bath, but he was blocked by the dancers. It was far easier for me, being smaller, to slip between and around the couples and make it to the edge of the hilltop.
From there, I darted to the steps, then hurried down, my skirts floating out behind me. I felt a bit like Cinderella fleeing the ball—only in most of the stories Cinderella didn’t get rejected by the prince. And I was pretty sure she wasn’t tipsy, either.
Despite my very strong urge to put as much distance between myself and Octavian as possible, I was sober enough to realize that running off on my own in a strange world wasn’t the smartest choice, so when I reached the street below the Hill I made a beeline for a narrow alleyway between two butter-yellow buildings across the street.
There, I was out of sight and out of the crowds but still had a good view of the steps so I could keep a lookout for anyone else I knew. Hopefully Ary. Or even Talon.
I slumped against the wall of the nearest building, equal parts embarrassed and ashamed and hurt and—well, too many things to count.
Somehow, since crossing into Therador, I’d become the sort of girl who performed dramatic exits.
But I needed the space to think, and to process, and honestly, to wallow a little bit, too.
Back home, I never put myself out there, and this—this twisty, vomit-y feeling—was exactly why.
It’s possible this isn’t even about you, I reminded myself, recalling Talon’s theory that Octavian might be punishing himself over Esmerine.
But why would he be punishing himself for something he couldn’t even remember?
I couldn’t decide whether I should be pissed at him, or pissed at myself, or if—
“Something wrong, butterfly?”
I jumped, letting out a squeak of surprise. Once again, Radven had managed to sneak up out of nowhere, and my poor heart wasn’t prepared.
“I’m fine. I just needed a break,” I told him once my nerves had—slightly—recovered.
“I think we both know that isn’t entirely true.” He leaned against the alley wall beside me, his sharp eyes scanning the street beyond, ever watchful.
It was clear he had more thoughts on my current state, but apparently he decided he would hold his tongue and leave it to me to make the next move.
I held out for as long as I could before my frustration bubbled over.
“Do I look like some sort of…delicate flower or something?” I choked out. “Why are men so obsessed with this idea that sex must be all or nothing for a woman?”
They were both rhetorical questions, but Radven answered them anyway. “Have I ever given you the impression that I believe either of those things to be true?”
”If a woman makes a big deal out of sex—if she decides to ‘save’ it, or be selective about when and how she has it—the world calls her a prude,” I said, too worked up to do anything but continue ranting.
“But if she acts like it’s no big deal, if she’s okay with having sex just because she wants to, no strings attached, then obviously she must be lying to herself.
Because god forbid she just wants to have a little fun.
Or, I don’t know, live in the moment for a change.
” I kicked at the cobblestone street under my boots. “Either that or she must be a slut.”
“I know I’ve never given you the impression I believe any of that.”
My anger deflated a little, and for the first time, I turned my head and really looked at him.
His eyes were hazel tonight—new colored contacts, I guessed—and rather than give his hair the dull, tousled look he’d preferred in his disguises so far, he’d tied it back.
His clothes were still relatively nondescript—at least compared to what most people around here were wearing—but I noticed he’d acquired a printed scarf with embroidery along the edges.
And a long, dark green coat with an enviable number of pockets.
Apparently even Radven, with his penchant for blending in, couldn’t resist getting a little dressed up for a good party.
“You, sir, aren’t completely innocent here,” I pointed out. “Don’t pretend like you’re not obsessed with me being a virgin.”
“I’m interested, not obsessed,” he replied casually.
“Believe me, butterfly, there’s a difference.
” He’d produced a dagger from somewhere up his sleeve, and he spun it around in his fingers.
“I’d be happy to drop the subject, but I believe you’re forgetting about the deal we made back in the woods. ”
Oh shit. He was right—I had forgotten our deal.
He‘d revealed something about himself that no one else knew—that he was, somehow, incapable of ever falling in love—and in exchange, I’d promised to open up about my virginity and supposed ‘repressed desire’.
Or something equally juicy. Only we’d been interrupted before I could fulfill my part of the bargain.
“But I’m feeling generous today,” Radven continued, “so if you prefer to give me some other great secret about yourself, something that has nothing to do with the subject at hand, then I’ll consider it a fair trade and our deal satisfied.”
I sighed. “As I know I’ve told you before, I’m not exactly brimming with juicy secrets here.”
“Then save it.” Radven’s eyes flashed as he pulled them away from the street and met my gaze. He looked like he wanted to devour me whole. “Someday, you’ll have a secret I want. I’ll take that one instead."