Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
H is attention motivated me. Not enough to throw away my strategy to dance just a little under the radar, but as the music queued and we began the choreography, I let a touch more of myself into the dance. As usual, the less throttle I used, the harder it was to remain restrained. I danced for him, a soft demand he give me his eyes. Well, his focus, because I had no use for a set of freestanding eyeballs.
Satiny energy filled my body, doubt fading.
Samuel moved in for a lift, executed flawlessly. Of the male dancers, I trusted him the most. As tall as Coralene with a wiry strength, his dark brown South African coloring complimented my golden-brown hues—and he had yet to drop me. I wasn't the most svelte of the dancers, and I'd worked on building enough muscle to support my naturally. . .uh, lusher. . .thighs and chest, which added to the weight cavaliers must shoulder during our lifts.
Vargas dismissed us back to the barre after we finished, and the Cassanians continued to observe until we broke for individual rehearsals.
Letting a little of my inner dancer out to play had me moving faster to the solo practice rooms. I needed to burn off some of the energy. I needed to truly dance.
After a grueling but joyful session I began my cool down, emerging from my head and once again taking note of my surroundings.
I halted on a dime the moment I saw I wasn't alone. I'd locked the door behind me and only Vargas had access to open it.
The Fae man who I’d glimpsed in the rehearsal room stood far enough from me for politeness, but not far enough for my own personal comfort, his gaze fixed, posture still as if he'd been watching for some time.
Which was possible. When dancing I could completely lose myself.
“Can I help you, sir?” I asked, shutting down everything. Voice flat, expression bland. This was probably my fault. I’d eye flirted. . .a little. But I hadn’t meant that as an invitation to follow me. I must have crossed some cultural wires accidentally.
He wasn't as tall as Andrei, though like most Fae he wasn't what humans would consider short. Wavy hair, soft pink threaded with dove gray, draped over one shoulder. His skin was light, his mouth only a slightly softer pink than his hair. He wore a deep rose jacket, open to reveal a cream silk shirt dripping lace at the neck, and fitted dark trousers.
Though he wasn't threatening me in any way, I didn't move closer or smile, the human social norm for inviting conversation.
My coolness didn't seem to bother him, but he wasn't unaware of the implied criticism because he asked, “May I approach? I mean you no harm.”
“I would rather you didn't.”
He took several steps forward then halted, close enough that I saw his eyes were a cornflower blue, and a charming sprinkle of freckles dusted his nose and high cheekbones. It was the first time I'd seen freckles on a Fae, and if he hadn't invaded my space and ignored my request not to come closer, I would have been off my guard, thinking him charming. If I didn't know better, I'd assume he was in his early twenties.
I knew better.
“You interest me, mortal girl,” he said, a note of whimsy in his voice accompanying the soft curve of his rosebud lips. He was trying to appear nonthreatening in a way even Andrei didn't aspire to. No man went out of his way like that unless the opposite was true. “Why do you hide yourself in this fashion?”
I couldn’t help but look at the door. If I tried to walk around him, would he block me? “I don't know what you're talking about.”
I didn't remind him that I had a name other than mortal girl because I didn't want him to know my name. Though if he wanted, he could get it. If I recognized that he certainly wasn't in his twenties, I also recognized the subtle arrogance and authority in his posture. The same aura that surrounded Andrei, a cloak of power and unconscious command as if he fully expected the world to situate itself to his preference and benefit.
He could be a Low Fae with power, wealth, and political influence, or he could be High Fae, or a High Fae Lord. I hadn't been around the castes enough to tell the exact difference—but I was betting a Lord of some kind. He was too bold.
Where was Mathen?
The Rose Lord smiled a little, lowering his head, showing lashes several shades darker than the gray strands in his hair. “I understand. I applaud your strategy. Welcome it, because it means no one but I will be expecting what emerges on that stage.”
He paused, then lifted his lashes again. “You have greater talent than you know, yeralleah. When Lord Issahelle sees you, she most certainly will take you as her own. But you also have an ally, and perhaps a patron, in myself, should you find me acceptable.”
Because he was waiting for a reply, I said, “My gratitude for the offer. If there comes a time I'm in a position to consider it, I will.”
“Then I am happy.” He bowed and left without further prompting.
I hadn't asked his name, and he hadn't given it. Either he assumed I knew who he was, or he had plans to make sure we met again.
In the common lounge an hour later, I debated asking who he might be, though I’d learn more information—more truthful information—by listening rather than asking questions that might give my rivals ammunition.
Coralene entered the lounge, feline satisfaction in her icy eyes as she lowered herself gracefully onto a couch.
“I've confirmed the attendance of two more Lords at the showcase,” she said. “I'm not offering this information for free. I expect future favors in return, mortals.”
Taima abandoned the bottle of water she'd been sipping and leaned forward. “Who? And who were the Cassanians observing us earlier today?”
Coralene waved her hand. “Flunkies, quality control. No one worthy of note in and of themselves.”
“What about the one who was dressed in dark rose with the pink and grey hair?” I asked.
She frowned at me. “I saw no one fitting that description.” She paused. “Pink and grey hair? Describe this person again.”
I shrugged, backtracking, and glanced away. “I wasn't paying attention, I just got a glimpse of all that pink.”
Coralene watched me with narrowed eyes for a moment longer, then dismissed me. “High Lords Andreien and Euthaline will be present. The High Lord's son, and a cousin. Both are powerful potential patrons, though Lord Andreien rarely bothers. He must be bored this season. The Courts have been quiet.”
Taima's eyes widened in excitement. “What about Lord Miahela? Is she coming?”
“I have no confirmation of that this year.”
The name of the High Lord's son had caught my attention. Andreien was very close to Andrei.
“Is that a common name?” I asked. “Andreien?”
Coralene looked at me again. “Does it matter? I swear you ask the most random questions.”
I ignored her condescension. She couldn't help it. “I've heard the name before.”
This time she lifted her gaze to the ceiling as if praying for the patience not to smack me.
“Of course you've heard the name of the High Lord's son before. He is city Heir. One of the most powerful High Lords in the territory. A bit lackadaisical, though.”
“Does he have a lover?” Samuel asked, sliding into an armchair opposite me and stretching out his long legs. “I saw him in person once. Hot. Broody but not cold, and he knows how to accessorize without overdoing it. Some of these Lords are so gaudy. If he were my patron he would definitely get all the perks from me.”
“I haven't heard he has a concubine,” Coralene said. “He certainly has no consort. He may have a casual lover, but he would be discreet about their identity, of course.” She snagged Taima’s water bottle and took a long sip without her lips actually touching the rim. I wasn’t certain if that was a courtesy or an insult, which was typical in dealing with Cora. “You'll only have one chance to gain his attention in that way, though there is no guarantee he'll come to the mixer.”
The company hadn't announced the dancers who would attend this year. Right before the showcase the top dancers were invited to an evening social to mingle with potential patrons and other selected guests. Historically, it was a chance to gain a patron's attention before the showcase. By attention, the not quite unspoken context was that many of the patrons would seek those perks Samuel mentioned.
“Anyone not gonna put out?” Samuel asked with a salacious grin.
Taima and I exchanged a look. Neither of us was religious now, but we’d been raised in similar conservative backgrounds, her parents Catholic and Muslim, mine Protestant though my mother still semi-practiced Buddism. I had ten years away from home though, and Taima had only been on her own a few months.
“Technically it isn't supposed to be required,” Taima said, chewing on her bottom lip. “You all know I haven’t done it before.” She blushed. I’d forgotten she was only eighteen. “Maybe we can find patrons who don’t want sex.”
Coralene grimaced. “Save me from. . .good luck finding that unicorn. I’ve never met a High Fae who wasn’t ridiculously oversexed, and if you hope that means vanilla then I would love to enlighten you. We’re physically attractive dancers seeking financial and social support, our patrons rich, powerful people with appetites. I suggest you start lining your stomach now.”
I frowned. It was an aspect of the program I'd struggled with, and I hadn't yet made any decisions. A decision complicated now that I was in a situationship with Andrei. I was almost certain he wouldn't allow me to take a patron and if he did, he’d ixnay any requests for sexual favor. Considering how he’d ixnayed Larry. . .I took a deep, cleansing breath. That image still caused nausea.
Andreien, the High Lord's son. Andrei, my High Lord.
It could be a coincidence.
But was I that stupid?
. . .still. It would be the sort of coincidence that implied I was a beneficiary of extraordinarily magical good fortune. Come on. Lord Issahelle’s son? I didn't believe in that kind of luck, not for me.
If it was true—could I take advantage? I made myself consider it for a coolly pragmatic moment. A guaranteed spot in Lord Issahelle's company if I just asked my new boyfriend.
“Girl,” Samuel was saying, “if I were you I’d throw myself a cherry picking party and get rid of it. I wouldn’t want to pop that pie with a High Fae. Talk about going from zero to one hundred in sixty.”
I kind of agreed.
“I’d volunteer,” he added, “but, you know. Team dick.”
Taima grimaced at him. “Thanks. I’d prefer a girl, anyway. Boys don’t wash—I know, I have three brothers—and I don’t need that taste in my mouth.” Samuel choked on his water, then howled with laughter. She rolled her eyes then turned to me. “What are you gonna do, Han?”
I drummed my fingers on the table. “I may have alternative arrangements.”
Coralene gave me a sharp look. “Oh?”
. . .no. I cared too much about my art to climb the ranks in that particular time dishonored tradition. My ambition wasn't just for success, it was to be the best. If I earned acclaim through politics, then I’d never know if I was the best. I'd rather be an honest soloist than a fake prima.
But maybe it was time to ask dear Andrei a few more pointed questions.
I focused on Coralene. “When I’m certain, you’ll know first.” She traded in information and favors, and that would earn me points.