Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Idid not sleep again that night. How could I?
The days that followed passed in a blur of dread and elation.
Sacred Mother did not come to watch us practice again. Not this day, but my dance held the memory of what she’d done to me. I stumbled, I made mistakes, and it was a shadow of fear that kept me from being my best.
But it was overlooked because the rest of the dancers felt the same. I saw red eyes, tired faces, and the fear crept back into my throat even as I counted down the days until the full moon, when I’d release us all. Or perhaps it wasn’t release. But I would shift the tides of power.
Even throughout my fear, I remembered my purpose. To seek truth, to find out as much as possible about Sacred Mother without it being noticeable and discover who was killing people and why. And through it all, I was helplessly, hopelessly distracted with thoughts of Airen. The Hollow King.
My heart strained toward him, a physical tug, as though I couldn’t stand to be away from him an hour longer.
It was barely past the supper hour when I’d sneak to the dungeons.
My new chambers were too high up in the palace to open the passageways.
Or so I assumed. It was also far too near the Sacred Mother’s new chambers, and I worried what she might require of me.
I did not want to sleep there. Spending a moment longer in the castle made me feel physically ill.
So my days fell under the shadow of fear, while my nightmares I exchanged for bliss. Counting. Waiting. Every morning at practice, I felt Sacred Mother’s eyes on me, even though I wasn’t sure if she was there or not. I never allowed myself to look up, not again, and dwelled in those terrors.
Finally, the night of the full moon approached.
The routine was always different on a night we danced. We practiced; we lingered in the pools, stretching, preparing ourselves. The chatter was thin.
Betta found me as I was leaving the pools. “Gazelle, there will be a speech tonight.”
“An announcement?” I asked. There wasn’t another Rift Mother. The vote had never taken place.
Betta closed her eyes as though something pained her. “Sacred Mother wants to speak before the ritual begins.”
I sensed that Betta knew but would not tell me. I nodded. “I’ll wait until she’s finished.”
“Are you sure you should dance?”
“You know what happens if I don’t.”
She wrung her hands. “I’m worried about you.
You’ve been absent, your behavior strange.
You’ve been murmuring to yourself, jumping at shadows.
Some of the dancers have mentioned it—some days you’re kind to them, teaching, guiding—other times you ignore them, as if they are strangers. I wonder if rest would be best.”
My temper flared. All these people who supposedly cared about me, and they wanted me to stop. I took a deep breath, fighting to stay calm. “It’s too late for tonight. I’ll rest tomorrow.”
Betta squeezed my arm and hurried away, but I couldn’t shake the sense that she wasn’t satisfied.
I took my time preparing, pulling on a red gown made of lace, with skirts that fell just above my knees.
The straps were thin, and I imagined in the moonlight I’d look like a blood sacrifice.
I’d never thought of it before, how my red gown was in contrast to the white the other dancers wore.
How I was the clear sacrifice, the one whose soul was earmarked for death.
But not tonight. I wouldn’t feed Sacred Mother’s immortality. I wouldn’t allow her to drink my soul.
I always danced barefoot, but I took the time to arrange my hair, letting the waves fall loose past my shoulders. Many of the other dancers braided theirs or pinned it up in a tidy bun. I liked the rawness of being unbound, the freedom, the way it moved when I moved.
Closing my eyes, I counted the steps, and my pulse thrummed. It was time for deception. Was I willing to go through it? To turn my back on everything I’d known, everything I’d been taught, to risk bringing hell on earth?
I forced the thoughts from my mind, the deliberations, the what ifs. I reminded myself that when I freed the Hollow King, we could be together. I would show him my world. The sky he’d never seen, the sun he only knew from tales.
The beat of the drums guided me to the amphitheater, and I stood among the pillars, waiting.
Sacred Mother appeared from nowhere, a procession trailing her down the wide stairs to where she took her place in the center of the ring. The statues looked as though they were bowing to her, and a great dread filled me as she pulled back her veil and let the people see her face.
An awed hush moved through the people. I felt her power emanating, radiating from her core. I’d never thought of it before, but I was certain she had magic. Especially if she was my ancient ancestor. What god had given her a blessing? What god had gifted her with eternal life?
She lifted her hands. “My children.”
It was curious of her to call us all her children, as though she birthed us, and we belonged to her.
“Long have you dwelled here in peace. Keeping back the demons, ensuring your children, and your children’s children are safe.
Until last month, when an enemy stole in, slew Rift Mother and many others across the city.
” Her voice carried to every stone. “I have come to restore that peace, to give you back your confidence and security. We have found that monster that stole into the Sacred Palace. We have found the one who killed Rift Mother. The execution will be tomorrow, at sundown.” She paused, taking the time to look across, letting her gaze linger on uplifted faces.
“Tonight, let us give thanks. Let us perform the rituals that keep us safe and rest in the assurance that we are, indeed, blessed.”
My mouth fell open, and a titter of whispers came behind me. They’d found the killer? Who was it?
Then Betta was at my side. “Gazelle, it’s time.”
I walked out of the shadows of the columns into the middle of the circle of stones, standing under the white light of the moon while the stone statues looked down at me.
I lifted my hands as I’d done hundreds, nay, thousands of times before and took a breath, preparing myself for the dance.
I let everything else fade to the background, what Sacred Mother had said about finding the murderer, about her intent to stay here.
I would deal with it and my rioting emotions later.
All that mattered was the here and now, the outflow that came from my heart. The dance.
I took up the original pose and started off with the steps of the dance to seal the rift.
To keep the demons out. Again, that heaviness came to my soul, and I felt as though a great stone pressed on my chest, weighing me down.
My throat went tight, the cough threatening to spill out.
My whole body shook from the effort of keeping it inside.
I closed my eyes and felt my limbs move, guiding the magic.
It surged around me, lifting and swirling, reaching like fingers, the same way the mist above the rift reached and lurched.
My thoughts shifted, thinking of him and the dance, and I rolled into it with barely a pause.
Instantly, the reaction within me changed.
The murderous cough was suppressed. The weight on my chest lifted, and it was as though I were back there on the stage, listening to the piano play, listening to the dreams of the demigods.
Their desire for freedom was so strong it had become music.
It felt as though the music surrounded me. Not the drumming of my people, nor the sound of strings, but something swelling and hollow, deeper and darker and bolder than any music I’d heard before.
I moved through the steps, the complicated footwork. I twirled, and I was dimly aware of people standing, shouting, gesturing. They were pointing at me. Shouting for me to stop. The dancers were waving me back, and all I saw on the faces of everyone as I spun was fear and horror.
I’d changed the dance, and every soul in the amphitheater noticed. The ritual was imprinted on their memories, too, and this new dance was unacceptable. Still, I carried on. My mouth set in a grim line. Determined to finish.
I leaped, and a bolt of iron struck my shoulder, hurling me to the ground.
I landed on my back, ears ringing, the breath knocked out of me.
Then immense pain came, radiating out from my joint.
I reached up and felt not my own flesh but the head of an arrow, its tip buried deep in my shoulder.
Dimly, I was aware of screaming; it took me a moment before I realized it was my own.
I’d changed the dance, and they’d retaliated and taken me down.
Even Airen’s magic wasn’t enough to protect me.
I lay there, gasping, struggling to retain consciousness while blood enveloped me.
A gift. A sacrifice. The gods got their way after all.
I struggled, feet twitching, my fingers reaching, clinging for purchase of something.
Shapes ran toward me, lifting me. I screamed out as they bore me away. A liquid was pressed to my lips. Unthinking, I swallowed, and only then, in the haze, did I hear the words.
“Hold her down.”
“Stop the blood.”
“Apply pressure.”
“Sacred Mother will be furious if we lose her.”
A numbness came over me. As I faded, I realized what I’d done.