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“Why?”
“There’s only one way to keep us inside this room, even with our own set of keys,” Luci says, “and that requires a particular metal bar that only Dante has access to.”
“So, you think he might be behind this?”
“Not just behind it. I think he authorized Seven to lock us in.”
“Okay … so he doesn’t want either of us to leave the room right now. Why would he do that?”
“I can only think of a few reasons,” Luci says, backing away from the door.
“Which are?”
“Neither are of your concern right now. Come, back to training.” I open my mouth to argue with him, but before I can say anything, Luci’s hand catches my own, the other wrapping around my waist as he pulls me to him. “Less talk, more training.”
We spend the next while dancing, or at least in my casetryingto. I can tell Luci is growing more and more frustrated with me, but there’s little I can do about my lack of rhythm, and my inability to remember steps for more than fifteen seconds at a time.
“This might be easier if we were able to listen to some music,” I say when Luci finally steps away from me in frustration.
“Somehow, I doubt that.” I feel my cheeks burn at this, and look down at my poor sore toes as I try to think of something to say. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”
“Yes, it was,” I say, swallowing past the lump forming in my throat.
I knowthisslight of all things shouldn’t be what makes me cry, but I can’t help it. I’m burnt out. I don’t know what I’m doing, or why I’m even here in the first place.
What did I do in life to deserve any of this?
“I think we’ve both had enough training for today,” Luci says, once again rubbing his temples as he moves to sit in a nearby chair.
I remain where I stand. I’m exhausted, but unwilling to find myself stuck in a chair with boning digging into every non-conforming curve.
“Are you sure you don’t need some water?” I ask when I notice Luci digging his knuckle into the side of his head.
“Yes.”
“I’ll get some water, anyway,” I say, turning toward the bathroom. “It might help.”
“No,” Luci says, suddenly behind me as he grabs my wrist to stop me. “I said, I don’t want any water. It’ll only make things worse.”
“How?”
“I don’t expect you to understand. Idoexpect you to listen.”
I press my lips together as I glare up at him.
“Fine, suit yourself, butIneed some water,” I say, yanking my hand out of his. Thankfully, he releases his hold on me so that I don’t end up pulling my arm out of its socket instead.
I angrily march over to the bathroom, regretting my quick movements as my breathing becomes strained. Turning the faucet on, I cup my hand beneath the cool water before bringing it to my lips.
The water is sweet, and I wish I could drink more of it at a time than my hands will allow. Still thirsty, I lean forward over the sink to allow myself to sip directly from the stream of running water. This helps and it’s not long before I’ve finally had enough to quench my thirst.
I move to push myself away from the faucet, only to discover that I’m stuck. Grabbing the edge of the counter, I shove against it, but to no avail.
Panic starts to rise in my chest as I struggle to right myself and only end up spluttering as I my face slips beneath the running water. Reaching over my head, I’m able to turn off the faucet, but not before soaking my neck and the top half of the bodice.
I can feel my legs starting to tingle as the corset cuts into my hips, cutting off the circulation. I run my hands around my torso and skirts as best I can, but I can’t seem to figure out what’s keeping me held in place.
Great.
