Chapter 15
Fifteen
“You kept your word.”
Airen rose from the velvet chair, setting aside a book.
Tonight he wore a white shirt, the neck open, ruffled sleeves peeking out from his embellished waistcoat. His black trousers were tight, and a sudden shyness came over me as I looked at him, handsome, dressed impeccably, just like a king in his court.
As for myself, everything had gone as expected.
I’d retired to my room and then rifled through my dresses, searching for something appropriate to wear.
It felt wicked to put on a dancing dress and walk the secret passages between the Sacred Palace and the Hollow Kingdom.
I’d never been one to be disobedient or rebellious, yet there was a tingling low in my belly, a fierce wanting to keep going, to throw myself into this dark, this chance, whatever it was, and feel the euphoria of dancing with him again.
The slow drag of temptation, and little by little, I was aware that I was giving in.
I faced him with my hands at my sides, fingers worrying the short hem of my red skirt. It barely reached my knees, and I’d left my hair unbound, the soft waves falling down my back, the weight of it a comfort.
“As you suggested, I found a way.”
He flashed a smile, and my breath caught.
This was the first time I’d seen him smile, except the flash of white looked like a devious snarl for half a heartbeat.
There and gone before I could be sure of what I’d seen.
He stepped forward as if to touch me, then reconsidered, dropping his hand. “Let us go to the hall.”
The walls shifted, a door opening where none had been.
Old magic, ancient, the same magic I invoked when I said his name in the Sacred Palace.
I fell in step with him, curious about his power, his kingdom.
His home was a game of tunnels and doors that opened and closed at will, and I felt like a guest who could only come and go at his beck and call.
If I were honest with myself, I wanted more.
In the adjoining room we found ourselves, once again, on the stage. He walked over to the piano and pressed his slender fingers over the keys. “Play,” he commanded.
At first, I thought he was talking to me, but the piano began to play, a melody spilling out as though some invisible player sat on the bench, coaxing sound from the keys.
“Do you remember?” he asked, coming to stand before me.
Of course. It had only been yesterday when we danced together after leaving the lagoon. I lifted my hands above my head, feeling the invisible wind brush around me, the energy of magic ready to pour into me. “I remember.”
“Good. Mirror my movements.”
I did, watching him as we moved in sync, lifting, turning, dancing.
Magic combed through my hair like fingers, and I drank it in, soaking up the bright threads of life that bloomed in the air.
Then he was instructing me, his hand on my waist, perfecting each step, lifting my hands a bit higher, straightening out my leg.
I gasped when his fingers brushed the bare skin of my thigh, a shock going straight through me, low and bright.
My emotions rose with the dance until I shut my eyes and let it take me, the passion of it moving through the very core of me.
The steps he gave me were both familiar and foreign, and it was, once again, a struggle to remind myself to open up, to forget all that I’d learned in the past and focus on this newness.
It was a long dance, lengthy and intricate, full of steps that were strange and unique.
It felt like the offering of my being, like the worship of something beautiful, something I loved.
It felt much different from the ritual I performed, and suddenly he melted away, and I was on my own, spinning, leaping, flying through the dark.
Time passed as I moved, my world twirling. At times, I felt as though I were outside of my body, watching myself, part of the stones, part of the stage, feeling the butterfly-light tickle of my toes passing across the wood. Part of the air kissing my neck, swishing around my arms.
Then, the music stopped.
I came back into myself, unsure where I’d gone, but certain I’d been out of my body, flying high above the Hollow Kingdom. Or had it been some dream? Did I imagine him telling the piano to play, his fingers brushing my skin, his breath silky soft and warm?
I turned. Airen wasn’t beside me, dancing with me.
No, he sat at the piano, watching me, his expression unguarded yet still unreadable.
Because it came to me with a pang of surprise, I did not know him.
This lure, this attraction, this give and pull between us was all physical.
Nothing more. I could not say his full name, nor explain what he enjoyed doing with his time, what his hopes or dreams were, nor even something as simple as his preferred meal.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
Sensation came back to me, little by little. “Like yesterday. Tired but powerful.”
He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “The magic answers you. It reaches for you as though it knows you.” His eyes moved over my face. “I wonder why.”
I had no explanation to give him, but I held the same question. I guessed it was because I was a Lead Dancer, and the scroll had been an indication there might be more. Once again, I found myself searching for a way to change the conversation, so he’d stop looking at me like that.
“Sacred Mother has come to the city,” I said. “I haven’t met her, but she’s coming to the next ritual to watch the dancers. I don’t know how well she knows the dance, but others knew the moment I made a mistake, and I doubt she’ll miss it either.”
He frowned. “Sacred Mother. Does she have a name?”
“I don’t know it yet, but I’ll find out.” I paused; my thoughts tugged back to the scroll and the list of names. “Is there anything you can tell me about my bloodline, about the Lead Dancers?”
“Nothing that will bring you joy.”
I sighed, staring at the strange pattern on the stage floor. “I expected as much.”
“Bring me her name. I have an idea of what’s happening here, but I want to be certain.”
I stepped closer to him, to the piano, as though it would bring me peace. “Something feels wrong, broken in the Sacred Palace. As though some evil lingers there, waiting in the walls.”
“It is most likely that whoever is doing this is one of your number, perhaps someone close to you.”
“It makes me uncomfortable, knowing that we might be pawns. That someone knows the truth and uses it for personal gain.”
“Don’t do anything to bring attention to yourself,” Airen warned. “Ask quietly and stick to your routine.”
His words made a warmth settle within me, as though he cared when in truth I knew he needed me to free himself and the Hollow Ones.
This was nothing more than a transaction.
He’d help me, and I’d help him. I still moved nearer, as though it was more than that.
My voice drawn low, the question budding on my lips.
“What about you? You’re down here alone.
Where are your people? Are you not…lonely? ”
A whisper of magic hovered in the air around me, and he held me in the softness of his gaze. “You ask about me as though I matter.”
A boldness filled me. “You do.”
“Then you feel it, too, this tug between us.”
My breath caught, and I squeezed my fingers together. “Yes. I don’t know what it means, or how to explain it.”
His gaze dropped to the piano keys, and he played a single chord, low and resonant. “The Hollow Ones are sleeping. They will wake when we are free. Just like I woke—when I sensed you.”
His words felt so intimate I crept closer, studying the fall of his black hair, the straight line of his spine, the way his clothes lay against his body, the slim fingers curved over the keys as though he might start playing again.
“I don’t understand how this works,” I whispered. “Why the walls open when I speak your name.”
Those green eyes caught me. “I would always have my name on your lips.”
A fevered heat swept through me, and beneath came a low, dangerous pulse. “You were so thin that first night,” I said, because I needed somewhere to put my eyes that wasn’t his mouth. “I thought you might be starving.”
“My magic is coming back to me. Music feeds it, dancing helps, but more than anything, it is the opening of the gates to your world. You’ve given me hope, Gazelle, and that is rare.”
I had nothing to say. I stood there watching him, and he sat there, watching me back.
The silence pulled tight between us until it hummed.
Then, for one suspended moment, a vision bloomed in front of me.
Hot hands on warm skin, bodies moving together, swaying, rising, falling.
A tangle of limbs, skin against skin, mouth against mouth. Teeth.
My heart slammed, and I knew, with a hot lurch of certainty, that vision hadn’t come from me alone. That we had both seen the same thing in the same breath, and he knew I’d seen it too.
I stepped back, my dress too tight, the air too thick, too hot.
I started walking, waiting for the walls to open, to guide me back to my bed. I tossed words over my shoulder, too afraid to turn around. “I’ll return tomorrow night.”
His deep voice responded, sending delicious shivers through my body.
“I will await your presence.”