66
“Lady Nauriel,” Yelgnib, a second cousin of mine, called out to me, suddenly standing up at the end of the third course of freshwater fish.
He was slightly taller than me, with a gentle face and thick auburn-blond hair that highlighted his very light green eyes.
He had become infatuated with me at a young age.
Many centuries later, he had even attempted to court me, ultimately giving up not because of my constant but polite refusals, but because his parents, with a stern look, had made him understand that I certainly could not be the mate the Spirits had chosen for him.
Thus far, on the threshold of thousand years, he still hadn’t found his soulmate. And from the way he looked at me during occasions like this, I sadly suspected he hadn’t given up hope of us being together.
“Yes, Cousin Yelgnib?” I asked, pretending to be curious even though I already knew what he wanted.
“Would you do me the honor of opening the dance with me?” he asked, smiling so broadly that wrinkles appeared at the root of his nose.
Araton covered a laugh with a cough. Even my father had a hard time hiding his amusement as he encouraged me to accept.
“Of course, Cousin,” I replied, holding back the temptation to stick out my tongue at my brother and father.
As soon as I rose from my chair, I felt as if an unseen force was grabbing my wrist to pull me back down.
I gasped suddenly, confused. Out of the corner of my eye, I looked at Amlach, who was clutching his fist on his thigh, and for a moment, I had the impression I could only hear his irritated breathing.
I chased away the senseless turmoil that had snaked inside me and reached the dance floor with Yelgnib.
The orchestra and the three singers performed a lively ballad about a little elf whose love for life, expressed through dance, lifted a dark curse that had gripped her village for years, restoring light to the faces of its people.
My cousin and I began moving around each other like fawns, never actually touching but clapping our hands in time with the music.
Before long, I realized I was smiling, caught up in the song’s lyrics and rhythm.
Soon, more elves, including three of my beautiful cousins, joined us, and we all ended up dancing together in a large circle.
As the music concluded, we all appeared to glow with inner happiness. We clapped for the orchestra, then I let Yelgnib guide me back to our table, giving him a quick nod as he bowed.
“You dance divinely, Princess,” Amlach complimented me as I sat back beside him.
Despite his smile, his eyes made me feel as though he wanted to pulverize me.
“And the music . . .” he continued, turning to my parents. “I’ve never heard more harmonious notes! Our ballads sound off-key and, alas, terribly dull in comparison.”
“Your Majesty,” said the maiden who had stayed beside him instead of joining her sisters, “would you honor us with a dance from your people? I don’t know about you, Uncles, but I’m very curious! And I’m eager to learn more about your customs, King Amlach.”
A surge of anger made my blood boil. It was crystal clear that my cousin had just hinted to Amlach that his choice should fall on her, the most suitable and mature of the four.
“Oh, yes!” one of her sisters exclaimed, still flushed from the group dance.
“Please, Majesty!” the third sister followed.
“We want to see how you dance in your court!” the last one said.
“Unfortunately, I must decline the request, my ladies,” Amlach replied, with a touch of amusement. He cast a wise glance at my parents. “I believe our dances are not appropriate for the delicacy and elegance of you elves.”
“We know how to be passionate, too,” I interject, in a peppery tone, causing my cousins to chuckle sheepishly.
Amlach’s eyebrows went up as he grimaced indulgently. “I doubt that.”
Without thinking, I rose and extended my hand to him with my palm facing down. “I dare you, Your Grace.”
My cousins gasped, and the rush of cold that lashed my bare shoulders told me Father was not pleased with how things were unfolding.
I didn’t care.
Nor did Amlach, whose gaze was locked to mine, oblivious to the anxious expressions of my relatives. A slow smile stretched his lips. “As you wish, Your Highness,” he said, rising from his chair and towering over me with his usual smugness.
The instant he took my hand, all the guests appeared to hold their breath. Even the musicians stopped, captivated, as Amlach and I moved to the center of the water-surrounded platform.
The pad of his thumb brushed slightly across the back of my fingers before he let me go to greet the orchestra with a modest bow. After that, he positioned himself in front of me, just over three feet away, and crossed his hands behind his back in a haughty manner.
“Play Dei Musa, please,” he told the musicians in a thundering voice, cunning coming alive in his eyes.
My heart leaped.
A shocked buzz arose in the hall.
Even though I had my back to our table, Father’s gaze was so furious it pierced me like a million blades.
Dei Musa was a dance used by witches during their mating rituals.
I had seen it just once, when a queen from previous centuries had invited us to witness her union with her husband.
It had been so unsettling that Araton had teased me for weeks afterward.
Since that experience, whenever a new sovereign had invited us to her wedding, I had always let my family go without me.
And now Amlach wanted to perform Dei Musa with me.
Here, before my subjects. My family.
And I had no intention of refusing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the musicians’ attention was fixed on the King of the Elves, awaiting his approval to proceed.
Seconds passed, perhaps stretching into minutes. Maybe into ages. I wasn’t sure. My universe had narrowed to the man standing before me. So irresistible, so forbidden, so dark.
Amlach suddenly looked away from me, and from his small nod, I realized he had just thanked my father for his approval.
The lead singer began to emit a deep vocalization in a fluctuating key, echoing throughout the hall with such force that the sound bounced between the columns, causing the water to vibrate.
I took a deep breath, shivering with excitement for what we were about to do.
Amlach glanced at the goosebumps on my arms, then focused on my chest, which was rising and falling faster and faster. His greedy eyes snapped back to mine, and he bowed. “I hope you know you’re playing with fire.”
Yes, and I had no fear.
“Then burn me,” I countered, heedless of others hearing me, making a curtsy brimming with malice.
Amlach’s mouth lifted to one side. “I’ve been doing that since we met, Elf.”
He moved closer, aiming to grab me, but I dodged him with a pirouette just as the musicians started tapping their percussion and the singer began singing the verse in the ancient, passionate language of witches.
Amlach bowed his head with an amused half-laugh.
I provocatively circled him, keeping myself at arm’s distance.
His vulturine eyes followed me, inciting me to seduce him with more sinuous movements I didn’t think I could do.
I clapped my hands in rhythm with the drums, signaling the moment he would make his move.
And when the other two singers joined in a cathartic choir in a much higher key, Amlach quickly wrapped his arm around my waist and caught my right hand in his left, pulling me into a couple dance that was completely different from the ones I knew, where partners barely touched each other’s fingers.
I held onto his shoulder with my free hand and let him lead me across the dance floor, my legs intertwining with his in swift, complicated steps I didn’t know. Yet, somehow, I managed to follow them.
I followed him.
Araton was right. Amlach had become the center of my world, and I no longer wanted to hide that.
That’s why I let a radiant smile brighten my face, laughing with my heart as he, returning my smile, guided me in a twirl that made my skirt bloom open like a flower bud.
The audience gasped at that visual effect and then applauded.
But in the next moment, happiness vanished from my gaze and Amlach’s, as the silence of the singers and the entrance of the flute marked the start of the second part of the piece.
More tribal. More haunting.
I pushed Amlach back from me, and the carnality I saw in his eyes took my breath away. We stayed very close, circling each other like two wild beasts prepared to pounce.
And when I reached out to touch his cheek, he caught my wrist and grabbed my throat with his free hand.
Violently. Possessively.
In time to the music, he made me recoil to the edge of the platform. His fingers gripped me as if he really wanted to strangle me, his irises burning like embers, and the slight bend in his smile was nearly wicked.
I allowed myself to grin, too, because I cheated and used my elven strength to wrench out of his grasp.
Or at least, I thought I had.
With the skill of a puppeteer, Amlach spun me around and tugged my hair, pulling me to him with such impetuosity that I groaned as our bodies collided. His other hand moved forcefully from my breast to my lower abdomen, causing me to pant.
After that, I completely surrendered to him.
And he made every part of me sing, playing me like a dark violin, maneuvering me as if I were a doll at his mercy.
Each sensual motion heightened the percussion’s rhythm.
Amlach commanded me, and every fiber of my being obeyed him desperately, craving his erotic touch.
I felt myself drowning in the twisted melody his gaze created within me.
Near the chorus, Amlach cupped my chin, pressing his fingers into my cheeks so hard that I reflexively clawed at his wrist with both hands.
A moan escaped me, and he immediately leaned toward my lips, sucking the sound into his mouth.
Then he sharply tilted my head to the side, and his breath in my ear sent a shiver down my spine.
“Claim me,” he ordered in a whisper.
Those words joined the Rise up from my soul, creating a vortex of scratchy darkness that took hold of me.
And before Amlach could stop me, I pulled his hand away from my face and leaped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his hips.
He pressed his fingers into my bare shoulder blades, sliding down to the edge of my neckline, as if he intended to tear my dress off.
I ran my hands through the hair on the back of his head, being careful not to expose his ears.
The second chorus arrived, and I leaned backward with my bust, letting my arms hang in the void as Amlach spun faster and faster, encouraged by the singers’ high-pitched voices.
I closed my eyes, fully trusting he would never drop me, enjoying the firm pressure of his fingers on the sides of my torso.
Suddenly, he slowed to a stop and slid one hand between my breasts to grasp my throat. He lifted me with a deliberate, exasperating, tremendously arousing slowness.
I returned with my feet on the floor and, just as slowly, while the soloist repeated the first verse, I removed Amlach’s fingers from my neck and pressed my palm against his. For some inexplicable reason, that contact felt even more voluptuous to me as we moved in a circle.
My eyes were in his. His eyes were in mine.
He was in all my feelings and in my blood and in every thought of mine and in my maddened heart and in the oxygen I breathed.
He was everything.
The music faded gradually as the singers’ voices diminished, and Amlach held my hand while I bent my knees into a deep curtsy, with my skirt fully spread out around me.
I expected to hear a round of applause that would shake the glass ceilings, given how intense our dance had been.
Instead, there was only silence.
Little by little, the euphoria from the dance faded from my flushed face, and I felt as if I were being lashed by a cold gust that abruptly brought me back to reality.
A reality where every single elf in the room was staring at me in horror.
As my breath grew increasingly shallow and my eyes started to burn, I gazed at my family. Araton and my mother looked so sorrowful that it clenched my heart in a vice.
But when I met Father’s eyes, the unspeakable wrath I saw sailing in them annihilated me.
The next moment, I dashed out of the hall.