Chapter 9
Nine
The passage opened into a great chamber—drapery on the walls and dried rose petals strewn across the floor.
Velvet cushions and statues, carved in gold and silver, along with strange shapes that lay cloaked in shadow.
There were portraits, too, not painted but sculpted out of filigree, clay, and precious jewels, a hundred colors woven together into figures of people.
Old kings and queens, I suspected. Royalty.
They appeared alive, as if I could reach up and run my fingers over the intricate details, feeling every indent of the material, the fine fibers of cloth, the ridged cracks of clay, and the smooth surface of the jewels.
It was like descending into the hall of an ancient king, a dead kingdom long past its prime.
Faint music drifted toward me, and as I neared, I deciphered the notes of a piano—an odd, longing sound, but not the compelling call the Hollow King had threatened me with.
Still, it made me want to dance, for dancing was my body’s natural response to music.
I paused for a moment, just to be sure it was my desire and not a compulsion, but I was still fully in control of my mind and body. So I continued.
Pale light glimmered, but I did not see any candles as I left the hall.
Instead of stone underneath my feet, there was carpet, with rows of seats on either side.
Above me, balconies overlooked a stage, and my breath caught.
It was an indoor theater, built for an audience that had been asleep for an age.
On the stage stood a lone piano, and the Hollow King sat at it. Playing. His eyes were closed, and his body swayed as he poured himself into the music, as though it were the only thing that would give him life.
I crept up the stairs onto the stage, and only then did I shed my layers of extra clothing.
I hadn’t bathed. And I was sure I smelled like the dungeons.
The shame of it heated my face while he sat there luminous, all lean energy, smelling of wine and spice and that bright thread of citrus.
A powerful beast buried in this dying kingdom.
I didn’t know how dangerous he was, but I allowed myself to acknowledge my attraction to him.
Nothing about this was right or normal, but I had decided to risk it anyway.
He must have sensed me, for he lifted his head, nodding in acknowledgment as he finished his sweeping melody. “You came.”
“I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to. They put me in prison for the murder of Rift Mother.”
His expression darkened. “Is that why you called my name?”
He’d heard that? Surprise moved through me at the thought of my voice reaching him here, in the dark, his name in my mouth like a summons. “I wasn’t sure what else to do. You never played the music. You never compelled me to come to you.”
Those green eyes fixed on me. “And I never will. I only showed you what was possible, but I will not take your free will or demand your obedience. I want your help—need it. Without it, my court will fade and die, sinking into the endless slumber. But you will help me because you desire to. Not because I forced you.”
I stared at him, my heart loud. Freedom. From him. It should have released me, but it didn’t feel like freedom. Likely because I was still trapped, still blamed for a murder I did not commit.
“I need your help to clear my name,” I said.
Something like a self-satisfied smirk came to his lips, and I half regretted speaking at all.
I pressed on. “And you need me to dance a new dance, to wake your court and free them. Because you aren’t demons.”
He shifted on the piano bench, and again came the long shadow, a brief hiss, followed by that odd clicking sound.
“You don’t trust me,” he said. “Yet, in time, I hope you shall see the truth. Time is short. You have three weeks to learn the dance and perform it at the next full moon, when the magic is strongest.”
I stepped back, thinking through his request. “They think I did it. They think I made a mistake on purpose and then killed Rift Mother. They believe I sabotaged everything.”
“And did you?”
A swift kick of anger went through me. “No.”
He stood. “Then someone knows. Someone knows the dance is a lie. Perhaps this Rift Mother you speak of knew what the performance truly was. Perhaps she was silenced before she could speak.”
“It is a simple explanation.”
“Often the truest.”
“But there was a symbol on her hand, and words written in blood.”
“Tell me.”
“It looked like a moon sprouting thorns, and the words said, ‘The dancer bleeds so the dark one feeds.’ Does it mean anything to you?”
Airen drew a sharp breath and turned away from me, leaning heavily over the piano. “So that’s how it will be,” he murmured.
“You know it,” I breathed.
He straightened and approached me, but when he spoke, it was not an answer. “Time is precious. How long do you have until they miss you?”
“I’m not sure. I can’t tell whether it’s day or night.”
“Nor can I. Time loses its glow without the sun.”
I swallowed hard. Of course. He was trapped down here without light, without time.
I’d thought nothing of his perspective, only mine.
Selfishness still drove me, as well as fear of what would happen to me, the city, and the people should the demigods be released.
They’d been imprisoned for mischief. Would they take revenge if they were free?
Would they prove worse than the demons, feeding, ruling, making life miserable?
“If I dance your dance, they will know,” I explained. “They knew I made a mistake, and they might do something much worse to me if they sense my treachery.”
“It is a risk,” he admitted. “But your people know that if the magic of the rite is interrupted, it will spell devastation for all.”
A chill traced my spine, and a cough shook loose from my chest. I bent over, hot and shaking, remembering what he’d said to me the night we met. When the coughing fit passed, my voice came out a rasp. “Tell me truly, what does the rite cost?”
“The dance will cost your soul. Surely those who danced before you knew the truth? You dance for a time. Little by little, pieces of your soul are snatched away, used to keep the rift closed. Then, you die. You already feel it, don’t you?
The drain on your body, the cough, the blood.
You need a new dance, Gazelle, one that does not steal your soul and feed on you. ”
“Sacrifice is noble,” I repeated the mantra, though the words had already begun to lose their luster.
“Not when you’ve been deceived into believing a lie.
They tell you the dance is noble, that losing your soul is valuable because of who it saves.
But you’re a puppet, living for their lies while they profit from what you lose, everything most precious to you.
Let me help you. Let me show you a better way, one that allows you to live. ”
He drew nearer with each step, his presence making my limbs tremble.
I forced myself to speak. “Yet you would make a bargain with me and force me to sign in blood? It doesn’t make you any better, especially if you are seeking freedom.
Our goals are at odds. How do I know that the Hollow Ones you rule won’t cause mischief, that they won’t bend us to their service and ruin a city that has mostly known peace? ”
He placed his palm on the flat of the piano. When he spoke, his voice was low, dangerous. “You don’t know. And you have no reason to trust me. But you have to make a choice.”
It was the honesty that caught me.
“Teach me the dance.”