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“Excellent! Excellent!” Ali leaned back, his smile regaining its usual good cheer.
Someone must have been listening at the door because I was still standing in the corridor trying to think where I could find a suitable outfit when one of the maids appeared.
“Here!” She thrust it at me breathlessly. “Layla remembered that Kasim used to employ a dancer for this sort of occasion. She didn’t last long, of course, but she left some clothes here, and they’ve been stashed in a back cupboard in case Nyla ever managed to find a new dancer who would put up with her.”
I grimaced, thinking of how angry Nyla was going to be with me when this was over. I had purposefully concealed my dancing training from her to avoid being called on to perform at her dinners, and she must be furious that Ali had known when she had not. There was no time to worry about Nyla now, though.
I took the clothes gratefully, racing into the closest empty room to change. When I walked out again, jangling circles of metal chimed as I moved. Their music reminded me of Yasmine’s gown at the ball and her old history as a dancer. One at least of my audience was likely to be unimpressed by my performance.
None of the servants were proper musicians, but several played well enough to accompany a dancer. I waited outside the dining room as they tuned their instruments, pulling the door open only when they struck up the beginning of the first song.
My heart beat in my throat, my nerves jangling as much as my skirt as I skipped lightly into the room. It had been far too long since my days of dancing lessons, and my skills were well and truly rusty.
But as the music filled the room, my body took over. My mind might not remember all the moves, but my limbs did, the muscles moving as they had been taught so long ago.
Ali applauded loudly, calling his approval as I spun and clapped, my feet moving in time with my hips and hands. As the room whirled around me, I caught Rek’s expression, and warmth flooded me. He appeared to have forgotten all about both Yasmine and Isav, so I could only hope Adara and Navid were less distracted.
As I passed in front of Isav’s section of the table, however, disappointment filled me. More than anyone else at the table, we needed him distracted, his alertness dulled.
But if anything, his gaze had sharpened. He smiled in a polite manner as I danced past, turning to Ali at the head of the table.
“Lovely,” he said, his tone approving without holding any especial praise. “Your household seems to have a surfeit of lovely women. I saw one just the other day coming out of this house in a most exquisite golden gown. A younger daughter of yours, perhaps?”
I faltered slightly, only just catching the step before I noticeably stumbled. Esai must have told Isav about the girl who had followed him from this house—and charged him with discovering my identity.
Ali, who had never seen me in my ballgown, was cheerfully denying the possession of any daughters, but Mariam was staring in my direction. And she wasn’t the only one.
While Mariam might be trusted not to announce that they’d sent a servant to the palace in a beautiful dress, Yasmine had also seen me in my outfit at the ball. And she was now looking most intently at Isav.
Clearly he hadn’t thought to ask her if she knew the identity of the girl before tonight, and why would he? There was no connection between Yasmine and me that he knew of. But she must know his wasn’t an idle question.
She turned her calculating stare on me just as the song ended. I completed my final flourish, silence falling on the room. Yasmine turned back to Isav, her mouth opening, and I rushed to speak first.
“Yasmine!” My cry effectively cut off any words she was about to utter. “I have long heard that you are the true master of the knife dance, so you will know that a pair of dancers is required for the best of those. Won’t you consider joining me for one dance? If we can lure you out of retirement, even for a single dance, it will be talked of in the city for years to come, I have no doubt.”
Shock flashed in her eyes, tinged with anger. Yasmine wasn’t a woman who liked being surprised. But beneath it I caught the hint of other emotions. I had seen the buried longing in her face as she watched my first dance. She might have truly enjoyed dancing, if she missed it all these years later. And even the great Yasmine wasn’t entirely impervious to flattery.
“Yes, indeed, you must humor us!” Rek said into the silence that greeted my words. Ever since Isav’s mention of my gold dress, he’d been tense, ready for action. “I never had the pleasure of seeing you in your past career, but I have heard many tales, and I would give much to see the famous Yasmine perform with my own eyes.” He turned the full force of his devastating smile on her, and despite the gap in their ages, a flush rose up her cheeks.
“How could I refuse a request from my prince?” she purred, rising to her feet in one graceful movement.
Looking around the table, she gave a musical laugh. “But you mustn’t be spreading the story around. I shan’t allow myself to be tempted again.”
It was clear from her manner that while she might not intend to come out of retirement a second time, she most certainly expected us to do the opposite of her instruction and spread the story far and wide.
I wasn’t worried about what came after tonight, though. All that mattered was that I had separated her from Isav before she could reveal my identity, potentially unraveling our entire charade. And now I had the length of the dance to come up with something that would expose the secrets being so carefully guarded around the table.
The fact I was also now able to arm myself was just a secondary bonus.
Rek himself stood and offered me the knife from his belt with extravagant gallantry. I slipped into the role of a dancer, giggling coquettishly and swinging my hips as I approached to accept it.
But for the briefest second, the bare skin of my hand brushed against his as the knife changed hands, and a rush of real emotions nearly caught me off balance. A heady mix of admiration, alarm, and caution shone from his eyes, and I knew it was taking everything he had to keep his distance and allow the charade to play out.
I gave him a reassuring smile, before flicking my eyelashes ostentatiously and brushing unnecessarily close to him on my way around the rest of the table.
Some dancers used false, blunted knives when they performed these routines, but the professionals always used sharp blades. They knew that a hint of danger added to the excitement of the entertainment.
When I took my place beside Yasmine, I saw she had also acquired a very real looking weapon from somewhere. Had she been carrying it on her person?
