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“What?” I walk toward her, but he beats me to it.
“Belle. You are the most beautiful mermaid in the ocean tonight.” Holter steals the words from my lips. He takes her hand and kisses it.
“Thank you.” Her eyelashes flutter. “But you’re not going to be thinking that after you see how I can dance. Which is not at all.”
“You will do amazing. It’s all about mindset.” I take her other hand.
“Should we get started?” She steps into the room.
“Not here.” I nestle her hand into the crook of my arm. “The ballroom.”
“Oh, of course you have a ballroom.”
I smile. After today, I’m never going to be able to use the ballroom again. Not without thinking about how lovely she was today.
“Wait, my trident. I can practice my weaponized footwork too.”
I nod. How bad can it be?
14
Nico
I’m three hours in, and my muscles are just starting to loosen. Everything about the last week is exactly like me and yet not like me at all. Each punch of the bag that I want to bring me clarity hasn’t. With each kick, I’m no more focused on an answer that brings the Veiled City into the future and leaves me with Annabelle. I can’t find a solution where I get both: the mermaid and a new beginning for my nation. If I was a better male, I’d be satisfied with giving my life for the benefit of my people. If I was an even better male, I’d let Annabelle go home. But I’m neither. I’ve been with her now. I want her, and she gives me a reason to fight. To save myself, even if it hurts the Veiled City in the process.
I’ve just finished a quick shower and stepped into the hall. Music floats from the ballroom, not recorded but full music from the grand piano. I ease down the hall, hopeful to not run into any of Castor’s fathers. I’m not in the mood for their version of wisdom. I follow the trail of sounds. It’s a piece by Arnaud, one Holter knows by heart.
“It’s fine,” says Castor. “Don’t get discouraged. My feet are fine.”
“There’s no way your feet are fine.” Annabelle’s voice is full of frustration.
“Do you want to try with Holter again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?” She drops her hands to her sides. What in the hell is she wearing? The gown has symbols from all the domes, like it’s some sort of trashy chum for any merman from any dome. Her head hangs low. I hate seeing her cry. This is worse. She’s full of insecurities.
Her back is to me, her shoulders slumped. In a few strides, I’m behind her. I slide my left hand onto her hip. My right hand holds her arm out straight.
Annabelle twists her neck, her lips inches away from my chin.
“I’ll guide you,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“You can do this,” Holter says from the piano bench.
“What are we dancing?” I ask Castor.
“The minnow. We’re keeping it to the basics.”
“Indeed.”
“Ready, Belle?” Holter nods at her from the piano.
“I guess so.” She looks over her shoulder at me and then back at Castor. “It’s a dancing sandwich.” Her voice lilts with laughter.
The music starts, and I push and pull her hip, remembering the steps backwards as we go. “I learned to dance in this room,” I say over Castor’s counting into her ear. “And Castor stepped on my feet more times than you ever could.”
It makes her laugh, and she’s three steps behind where she should be, but her shoulders relax, dropping from the spot they’ve been holding under her earlobes. I’m not going to make her stop. We’ll just keep going until she gets it. The third time through, she’s still a few steps behind. But I’m sure she can do this even with a lack of rhythm.
