40. Dancing with Death
Dancing with Death
The rising sun painted the dining hall in bloody hues, light spilling through the tall windows. I picked at the assortment of exotic fruits on my plate, not truly tasting any of it. Xül sat beside me.
I wasn't sure when he'd started sitting next to me rather than across the table. Perhaps it was after Kavik's attack—his silent way of keeping me within arm's reach. My hand unconsciously rose to my throat, where the bruises had finally faded. The memory was still fresh.
If Xül hadn't arrived when he did… I shuddered. Someone had controlled a Legend—made him try to kill me. And that someone was still out there, perhaps planning their next attempt.
"You should try the blue one," he said, nodding toward a cerulean fruit on my plate. "It's sweeter than it looks."
I speared it with my fork, examining the strange flesh. "It looks poisonous."
"If I wanted to poison you, I'd be far more subtle," he replied dryly.
I rolled my eyes but took a bite, surprised by the burst of sweetness. "It's good. "
A servant materialized at Xül's elbow, presenting a sealed envelope on a silver tray. The paper was pale lavender, edged with gilded silver, sealed with an intricate wax design of intertwined moons.
Xül's expression darkened as he broke the seal, eyes scanning the flowing script. "Fantastic," he muttered, the word dripping with sarcasm.
"What is it?"
"They give us longer to prepare for these frivolous events than for the Trials themselves," he said, passing me the invitation.
The silver script shimmered on the page:
The Divine Syrena, Aesymar of Illusions and Desires, requests the honor of your presence at the Midnight Revelry, a celebration of those blessed contestants who have survived the first two Trials.
All Legends and Divine Beings of appropriate standing are welcome to attend.
Three nights hence, in the Crystal Palace of Lunadaire.
Attendance is mandatory for all mentors and their charges.
"A ball?" I looked up, finding Xül's expression carefully blank.
"More like an elaborate evaluation," he said, taking a deliberate sip from his goblet.
"Wonderful," I muttered. "So I'm to be paraded around like prized livestock."
"More or less," he agreed, not bothering to soften the truth. "Though with considerably more expensive clothing."
I dropped the invitation on the table. "What exactly will this entail?"
"Conversation. Dancing. Navigating the shark-infested waters of divine politics without getting yourself killed." He set down his goblet. "Speaking of which—you'll need to learn to dance."
"I can dance."
"No," he said. "Court dances are specific, formal. They have rules, patterns."
"I assume you'll teach me?" I asked, pushing my plate away.
"Of course," he said, the words touched with that aristocratic arrogance that used to infuriate me. "Then I suppose we should begin lessons immediately," I said, rising from the table. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your illustrious peers."
His eyes narrowed slightly at my tone, but he nodded, standing. "We can use the east wing ballroom."
I followed him through the labyrinth of corridors.
Each step deeper into this palace felt like another step away from the person I'd been.
The Thais of Saltcrest would never recognize the woman I had become—someone who walked beside Death without flinching, who'd survived two brutal Trials, who felt her power growing with each passing day.
Was this transformation freedom or corruption?
Was I finding my true self or losing it entirely?
And why did it feel so natural to follow him, to trust him, when every instinct I'd cultivated over years of survival screamed that he was the most dangerous being I'd ever encountered?
Xül stopped before a set of double doors and pushed them open, revealing a vast chamber with polished stone floors and mirrored walls. The ceiling arched high above, decorated with intricate frescoes.
"This entire room just for dancing?" I asked, unable to hide my cynicism.
"This is actually one of the smaller ballrooms," he said, removing his coat and draping it over a nearby chair. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing the strong lines of his forearms. "The one in the Eternal City could hold three hundred couples."
I shook my head, still struggling to comprehend the scale of luxury. "In Saltcrest, our entire house could fit in this room. When we danced, we pushed furniture against the walls to make space."
"Show me," he said unexpectedly.
"What?"
"Show me how you dance in Saltcrest." His expression held genuine curiosity.
I laughed. "Here? Now? There's no music."
"Imagine it," he suggested, his eyes intent on my face.
I closed my eyes, thinking back to the Last Light celebration— the last time I had danced freely, before everything changed. I could almost hear the fiddle, the stamp of feet on packed earth.
I began to move, letting my body remember the rhythms of home. I spun, arms outstretched, feeling the weight of my hair as it swung around me.
When I opened my eyes, Xül was watching me with an expression beyond his usual calculation or amusement.
"That's not dancing," he finally said, though there was no judgment in his tone. "That's freedom."
I stilled, suddenly aware of how I must have looked to him. "Well, it won't do me much good at Syrena's ball, will it?"
"No," he agreed, stepping closer. "There's only one dance you need to learn for that."
He positioned himself before me, one hand extended. I placed my hand in his, trying to ignore the warmth that spread through me at the contact. His other hand settled at my waist, firm but light.
"Your hand goes on my shoulder," he instructed.
I complied, acutely aware of the solid muscle beneath my palm.
"Now, follow my lead. It's three steps and a pause, repeated in a pattern."
He began to move, guiding me. I stumbled almost immediately, my foot catching on his.
"Sorry," I muttered, frustration building.
"Try again," he said, his patience surprising me. "Keep your back straight, chin up."
I met his gaze and we began again. This time, I managed several steps before faltering.
"Better," he murmured. "Keep your focus on me, not on your feet. The body follows the eyes."
I looked up, finding myself caught in his mismatched gaze. The contrast had unnerved me once. Now, I found it oddly mesmerizing.
"What was the first thing you ever stole?" he asked suddenly.
The question caught me so off guard I nearly tripped again. "What? "
"You heard me." There was a hint of amusement in his voice. "I'm curious."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "What makes you think I've stolen anything?"
"You’re a rather talented locksmith," he said smoothly. "One does not acquire such skills for no reason."
I flushed. "A fisherman's knife," I admitted. "I was eleven. It had a handle carved like a leaping dolphin." I concentrated on the steps, remembering. "The fisherman was cruel to his children. Used to beat them with a strap when they didn't clean the catch fast enough."
"So it was vengeance?"
"Not exactly." I shrugged. "I just wanted him to feel what it was like to lose something he valued."
"Did it work? Did he change?"
"No," I said. "If anything, he got worse. I didn't understand then that some people just... break something else when they're broken."
Xül guided me through a turn, his hand steady at my waist. "An early lesson, then."
"I suppose," I said. "What about you? What's the first rule you ever broke?"
His lips curved into the ghost of a smile. "Who says I've broken any rules?"
I gave him a flat look. "Please."
He considered for a moment. "I was seven. There was a library section I wasn't permitted to enter until I was older."
"Let me guess," I said. "You found a way in."
"Of course. I spent months observing the patterns of the guards, learning which books the scholars requested, mapping the layout from glimpses through the door."
"All that just to read some books?"
"Forbidden knowledge is always the most tempting," he said. "Eventually I discovered a hidden passage—a maintenance tunnel."
"What did you find?"
"Disappointment, mostly," he admitted. "Most of the ' forbidden' texts were just tedious political histories and diplomatic records. Though there was one shelf of love poetry that proved educational in other ways."
I couldn't help but laugh at the image of a serious child-Xül sneaking around to read poetry. "Did you get caught?"
"Eventually," he said. "Though not before I'd memorized several of the more explicit verses. My tutor was rather scandalized when I recited them during a lesson."
"I bet," I said, finding it easier now to follow his steps. "Did you get punished?"
"Three days in isolation," he said matter-of-factly. "Though I considered it worth the price."
As we continued to dance, Xül adjusted his hold slightly, drawing me into a closer position.
"This section requires more precision," he explained. "And trust."
"Trust is in short supply these days," I remarked.
"Indeed," he agreed. "Tell me something you've never told anyone else."
I eyed him curiously. "Why?"
"Because it's easier to tell secrets to someone you're not looking at." He spun me so my back pressed against his chest, one arm wrapped around my waist. His lips nearly touched my ear as he spoke. "And because I want to know."
"I almost ran away once," I admitted quietly. "When I was sixteen."
His steps never faltered, but I felt a subtle shift in his attention, a new focus. "From Saltcrest?"
"Yes. I had everything planned. I'd saved money from odd jobs around the village, packed a bag with essentials, mapped out a route inland." The memory was sharp, sudden—the desperate need to escape after my powers manifested. "I was going to leave the night of the autumn harvest."
"What stopped you?"