Page 75 of Vervain

I clasp my hands behind my back. “Very well. Keep your secrets.”

“Don’t deny that you enjoy these secrets,” he says. I take his hand, and he quickly looks at what I am doing. A guarded expression crosses the Lord of the Undercity, ears unsure if they should stay alert or fall victim to vulnerability. “Kamai…”

I cup his hand and press it to my lips as he does so often to mine. Eyes on him the entire time, I ask, “How do I say, ‘thank you’ in Daryun?”

“Hengyo ko,” he breathes.

With my mouth pressed to the back of his hand, I murmur, “Hengyo ko, Serun.”

His ears bend back, and for a moment, the vulnerability I’ve been looking for appears. The chip in his armour. The softness in his eyes. They don’t melt, as I’ve seen. They glow, becoming round, shimmering crystals visible in the darkest depths of his shadows.

He quickly retracts his hand from mine and scratches his chest. After clearing his throat, he says, “Would you like me to play music while you dance?”

I nod, unable to speak.

He makes his way to the side of the room. Shadows swirl around his hand, and the harp and stool appear. As he sits, I look at the mannequin—the strong desire for what I’ve always craved, becoming more than just illusion.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

BALLERINA

Saya Claymore

Maybe it was never a nightmare. The fear of dancing in front of nightwalkers, the red in their eyes, hands clapping in unison.

What if it was a dream?

What if it was something I wanted?

I slip my foot into the pointe shoes after cracking, twisting and whacking them against the sprung wood. With every bang, Serun’s ears bend back, and he tweaks an eye, but he doesn’t ask what I am doing.

After some adjustments, my feet fit snugly. With one leg crossed over the other, I wrap and tie the ribbon around each ankle, the movements automatic. Comforting.

A perfect fit.

I rise and tap each toe box against the wood before briefly going up en pointe to check for pain. I’m a little stiff, but it’s bearable.

I face Serun, and with a shaky breath out, I nod. It’s stupid of me to dance without stretching. It has been years since I’ve done this. Still, the idea of delaying this excitement causes my heart to stir.

Serun rests his chin against the harp and holds his hands in position. Anxiety grips my stomach, churning when the music, ethereal and slow, flows through the room.

Crap, I don’t know where to start. I stand there, legs locked, while the music calls me to begin.

I close my eyes, hoping a memory rises to the surface, when a bite of cold touches my hand. My eyes fly open to Serun standing before me. The harp plays on without him, shadowed fingers flowing across strings while he is here with me. “Perhaps we can dance together.”

“You can dance?”

He takes my hand, lifting it and leaning down as if to kiss my knuckles, but instead touches his forehead to it with a bow. “I’ve been around long enough to learn.”

I breathe a laugh and step towards him, our bodies pressing against each other and eyes locked. “One day, you’re going to tell me how old you are, nightwalker.”

“One day.”

We dance slowly, my feet following his. My body knows more than my mind, feeling not thinking as we spin in a circle. Serun’s other hand grabs my hip, pulling me closer and picking up the pace.

My breath sharpens, but I keep up, my movements becoming more vital, feeling as if our dance was made before the goddess herself.

Silver hair spins as Serun twirls me around like a ballerina in a music box. The harp grows louder in my ears, suffocating me in tranquil music, and the room blurs before we stop, my back snapping against Serun’s chest.