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As Tyr took my hand, circling us around to the center of the ballroom floor, the High Mer looked down at me. Her face remained carefully composed, her eyes were trailing us as if she were a spectator and not a queen. Ione wanted me to think she did not care if I twirled about in her lover’s arms all night. I couldn’t be fooled. The dullness of her cheeks was overcast, but her eyes were a storm. How she hated the very sound my lungs made to breathe. And after I had my stone and had taken the Light back for Leoth, she would hate me even more. Tyr was the first of many things I was going to steal from her.
At least I planned to givehimback.
The music began. A rich moan of violin strings rose as they moved against the player’s bow. Tyr and I bowed deeply to one another, and this time I did not let my chin down in womanlydeference. I refused to let my gaze drop from his as he cupped his hand under my arm and hung it at the nape of his neck. My fingers drifted into the firm curls of his hair, scraping my nails lightly until I was sure his skin had risen with chills. I rested my other hand across his muscled shoulder, gripping him with just the right amount of pressure to make his head swim. It was clear that I was feeling him up, and I let him feel me just the same.
His hand explored the width of my hips and caressed the curve of my waist as he drew it to my back. He looked down, distracted by the feeling of my skin through the cutout panels of my dress and I took the opportunity to let my nose drift across his cheek. A shiver rippled down his back, and I smiled.
This was a duel, I thought. One for honor and soul.
The hum of the strings stopped suddenly, then changed pace, melding with a melodic percussion that propelled us across the ballroom floor. Tyr was light on his feet, the steps moving through him without any effort as he pulled me along. I did my best to keep up, but as Kalen said, I hated dancing and it was becoming obvious I had not taken any training in the art form in my previous life. My legs kept their line, but I tilted at a clumsy angle each time we shifted position. Tyr watched me, amused, as he seemed to notice the crease along my forehead, a telltale sign of intense concentration and my shrinking confidence. His shoulders slacked as his own confidence grew. I did not know this dance. I hardly knew anything at all, and I had the sudden thought that I was perhaps the most idiotic girl alive.
Frantically, I searched the room for Kalen and found him quickly. He gave me a small nod of encouragement, his hands holding steady his sword, fingers tapping along the metal hilt in time to the music. I took a breath and closed my eyes. I could do this, I thought, picturing Kalen’s count of the beat and giving numbers to it in my head. I found the sequence easily, and the rhythm spread from my toes into my center almost immediately.
I opened my eyes again, and Tyr was looking at me with inextinguishable curiosity. I stepped forward as he took his leading step back, finally easing into the count without much thought.
My grip on his arm squeezed tighter as I pulled him to my chest, putting my lips against the shell of his ear. “Mind if I take the lead?”
“I’ve been waiting all night, Gwynore,” was all he replied.
Quickly, I switched our hand placements; laying my palm against his and clapping my other hand over the curve of his back. Tyr gasped, and I prayed he wasn’t reacting to how sweaty my skin had become.
I twirled us around at a dizzying speed, taking wide circles across the floor and trying not to trip over the tail of my dress as it fanned out around the two of us. Other dancers hopped awkwardly out of our way, some taking considerable leaps in the opposite direction to avoid our barreling sashay.
The music swelled, cymbals crashed and the bass line stomped us through the crowd. I peered over the collar of Tyr’s uniform and sighed to see the shining flash of mother-of-pearl inset in the dais stairs. Moving my feet even faster, I pushed through the crowd. Tyr’s face was a mixture of relief and shock as I careened us to the foot of the steps, spun him out to my left, and yanked him back to me. As the curve of my arm caught his neck, I dipped him low, and the whole room cheered at the spectacle. That was, of course, before they saw The Preserver, leaning over Tyr with the blade of his longsword to their general’s throat. I looked at Kalen, our faces level to one another, and he winked.
“I hate to be the prude,” Tyr said below us, his chuckle quavering against the weight of Silverwood. “but I’m a firm believer that three is a crowd.”
Kalen looked down, pressing into his weapon ever so slightly. “Not to worry, General. I don’t find you nearly as pretty as shedoes.”
“Kalen,” I squeaked.
“Enough!” With the whip of Ione’s hand, the music stopped, replaced by the sound of a roaring sea. The High Mer stepped down from her throne and rushed towards us, a violent mist whipping at her back.
By the Light.
I sent the Tyr sprawling to the floor, the hand I was holding him with swiping at his belt. Before I could chance any second thoughts, I ripped Kalen’s dagger from its sheath and held on tight to my stone.
ALL WAS PEACEFUL INour meadow. Even the wild mice had stopped scrounging in the dirt long enough to listen as I read the words of a long-dead poet to the boy I loved.
For what are the birds and the fish if not dreamers?
To live without fear among the tides and the winds.
To want only a life far beyond the high clouds.
Never needing the air to breathe again.
I closed the book, letting its hollow clap inform my dozing company that our lesson was finished. “You know,” Kalen rolled over in the soft grass, a playful smile dancing across his face. “I would have never pegged Gwynore, the Brave and Ruthless, for such a romantic sap.”
He snatched the leather binding from my lap with one long arm and squinted at the title. “A Soul Without Tether,” his lip quivered as he fought to stifle a laugh. To his credit, he almost managed. As the snort broke out through his nose, he buried his face into the branded cover.
I swiped at the arm propping his head up in leisure, but he only laughed harder when his face struck the ground with a thump. His eyes shut tight and his mind lost in our fun, I jumped at the chance to admire my dearest friend.
He really was magnificent. His skin was covered in a soft sheen of sweat as the sun beat down on us. Like oil paint as it dried against a canvas. The soft gold strokes of his hair cascaded into the grass below him, his summer tan fading at the cut-line of his trousers. The way his long, burnished lashes fluttered slightly whenever my eternally cold fingers brushed the soft curve of his side. Always on accident, of course.
It was easy to do, as we lay next to each other for hours onend. Sometimes, I wanted to run my hands up to his chest, rest my ear against it, and count how many times his heart skipped under my touch. But I never did. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.
“What, no snarky remarks today?”
