Aerisian Refrain, page 37
part #1 of Beyond the Sunset Series
“If you’re looking for your High-Chief and Chief Captain, they’re in there.”
I pointed towards the room I’d just left, hoping he didn’t notice how tight my voice sounded. Tight with the effort of trying to rein in my feelings.
“Thank you.” He paused. “Annie—”
I shook my head. “I have to go.”
It probably seemed rude. It probably looked like I was still angry with him. That wasn’t it, though. I couldn’t bear talking to him right then, knowing what his lords had implicated. Before he could call me back, I whirled and practically ran to get away from him, but I couldn’t run far or fast enough to get away from the grip of all the secrets I carried inside, secrets threatening to shatter my soul into a thousand pieces.
Chapter 49
The Dance
The Artan had done well, was doing well.
That was the common sentiment tonight, at the celebration to mark the momentous occasion of so many Aerisian leaders gathered in one place, many of them historic enemies.
Standing alone, at the fringes of the crowd, Lord Cole surveyed the scene before him. The Grand Chamber was full to overflowing with Aerisians dressed in an array of finery. The light of candles and moonstones lit the vast chamber, winking off precious stones bejeweling clothing and hair, sparkling on the wine flutes, and glinting on the silver trays. Bouquets and wreaths of flowers perfumed the air, and in the background palace musicians played softly. Servers in grey and white wove in and out with offerings of drinks and food. Half of the vast, floor-to-ceiling windows were open, emitting fresh air from the palace’s central gardens, thinning the sometimes-stifling smells of rich perfumes.
Most considered this a night to be remembered, and while the warrior-lord did not discount Lady Hannah’s hard work, he had seen over six centuries in this land and did not necessarily trust that traditional rivals such as the Warkin and the Tearkin would hold to their sides of any agreements. Tonight, Prince Kurban and Princess Vashti stood side by side, outwardly at peace, accepting the well wishes of those who came by to greet or congratulate them. Only to an insider’s trained eye was the stiffness in both their countenances seen.
The Dragonkind princess barely reached the giant’s waist, but she held her head high, the smattering of scales across her flesh glistening in the candlelight. Her abundant copper curls were pinned up for once, and on her head was a small golden crown to mark her station. She wore a gown of black and white, its patterns like scales, with a high, stiff white collar. Blood red rubies encircled her neck and weighed down her fingers. Kurban wore a golden circlet and looked like the royalty he was. Cole knew little enough of the Warkin princess, but he did believe, for his part, that Kurban would strive to keep the terms of whatever agreements might be reached. Possibly Vashti would, as well. However, the Warkin were wild tribesmen, at war as often with each other as with the Tearkin. The Tearkin were better controlled, but the hatred and rivalries between the two peoples were nearly as ancient as Aerisia itself. Whether Kurban and Vashti could convince their subjects to obey the agreements was the great question.
Leaving aside his contemplation of the giants and the Dragonkind, the Simathe’s gaze skipped about the crowded chamber, picking out faces he knew. It stopped on Lady Hannah, who was entering the Grand Chamber on his High-Chief’s arm. At the sight of her, there was cheering and clapping, as people welcomed her with joy for the peace she attempted to bring. She smiled and waved, nodding and exchanging a word with those she passed as Lord Ilgard brought her into the celebration. Few addressed or acknowledged him, even as they besieged his wife. That was as it was, as it had always been. Accustomed to being avoided, he simply stood back, letting her be encircled by well-wishers, his gaze never leaving her. His pride in his wife was unmistakable, at least to a fellow Simathe. Few outsiders would have been able to tell.
In the wake of the Artan’s entrance, she slipped in nearly unnoticed, but a flash of scarlet caught his eye and Cole’s gaze latched onto the one person he’d been waiting to see. Quickly, people began approaching her to introduce themselves or pass a word. She held no rank, but as a visitor from Earth and the Artan’s established friend, she was an oddity, a thing of interest. Most here tonight had also either heard her sing in the city, or heard of that event. As she had done that night, she seemed to know when to smile or offer her hand, when to speak a few words and how to look at someone to make them know she was listening.
She moved through the throng, being greeted by this group or that, maneuvering her way towards the back walls. Finally, the mass of people thinned and the Simathe lord could fully see her for the first time tonight. She wore an unusual gown of deep red, with a sweeping skirt whose large pleats across the front emphasized the slenderness of the tight, wrapped waist. The neckline was off the shoulders, leaving her upper arms and throat bare. Around her neck was a single strand of pearls, and her raven hair was held back from her face by pearl-studded pins. Earrings of pearl were in her ears, and her brown skin glowed against the scarlet of the gown, the white of the pearls. Never mind the other women in attendance; like a simpleton, he could not take his eyes from her.
As if feeling his attention, she happened to glance up and catch his eyes on her across the space and people separating them. He looked at her and she looked back. She did not smile, but neither did she seem angry or flustered as she had at their last meeting in the hallway. Another guest stepped between them and the contact was broken, but it had only confirmed his resolve to speak with her. Perhaps he could not mend the rift between them, but he could at least explain his actions.
He started to wend his way across the chamber, but stopped when the Chief Steward tapped his staff on the marble floor, signaling for silence. He made an announcement, introducing one of the Elders, who then stepped forth to orate about why they were all there, highlighting the gist of concessions already made and saying that, although there was still work to do, she had every confidence in the Artan and Council. There was another brief speech, at the conclusion of which there was the anticipated clapping and cheering. Another door at the far end of the Grand Chamber was then flung open by servants, revealing a second room containing tables laden with food. Guests were invited to partake. More applause.
They were so very tiresome, these events. However, now that the initial formalities were concluded, he was free to speak to the girl. Only, try as he might to subtly wend his way towards her, she was constantly surrounded and pressed into conversation, often by those who had heard her sing and wanted to remark on their enjoyment. Either that, or folks who viewed her as a rarity, and wanted to see her up close.
Two hours passed, then three, and Cole had all but given up. The guests had eaten, the first excited swells of conversation had muted, and dancing had begun. The Simathe might have been surprised to see an Aerisian Elder leading Annie to the dance floor, except her dancing skills were unquestioned after her performance in the city. He was not surprised to find her, after a moment or two’s hesitation, grasping the pattern of the Aerisian dances, flowing through one to the next with ease. She danced with a grace that no one else on the floor could hope to match. Elegance was in every motion. In a sweep of red skirts and black hair, she was spellbinding to see. Scarcely had one song ended before another began, and she changed partners just as rapidly. A half-dozen songs went by until she pleaded off the next fellow who approached, waving a hand at her flushed cheeks and nodding toward a table at the edge of the room bearing drinks for dancers and guests. The man smiled, bowed, and let her go. Annie wended her way towards the table.
An idea that had been forming in his brain burst into full fruition now, and the Simathe followed her. He would rather have spoken with her in private, in the silence of the stables or an open balcony, as they had done before, but there would be no opportunity for that tonight. Likely, she would not have consented to be alone with him, anyway. He would have to fall back on a different strategy, one brash enough to hopefully prevent her from taking flight. As he walked up behind her, the Aerisian noblewoman chatting with her stiffened a little, her eyes widening with surprise.
“Excuse me, my dear,” she said to Annie, and with a slight frown at Cole hurried away. Annie half turned, taken aback, to see why the woman had fled. When she did, she caught sight of him over her shoulder. He saw her glance once, twice, and hesitate as if uncertain what to do. Then she turned to face him, her expression carefully neutral.
“Hey.” She allowed a small smile. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting to see Simathe here tonight. I wouldn’t have thought y’all were into this type of thing.”
“Attendance for lords is mandatory.”
“I see. Gotcha.”
There was an awkward little pause as if she was searching for something to say but fell short. Into the silence, he extended his hand.
“Would you care to dance?”
There was no mistaking the widening of her eyes, or how she stared at his hand as if it might have been a viper. She looked back up at him.
“You’re joking, right?”
He shook his head.
“None of the other Simathe are dancing,” she observed, glancing around the room.
“Nor will they.”
“So why are you asking me to dance?”
“If you would rather decline...” He started to withdraw his hand.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.” She reached out and caught his fingers. “It’s just—” She leaned closer, her voice hushed. “Do you know how to dance? I’m not trying to be rude, but I can’t see that being a part of Simathe training and etiquette.”
Cole hid a smile. “Could I stand here for years at such events, having nothing to do save observe, and learn nothing?”
“I guess I hadn’t thought of that.”
He decided to bait her. Leaning down, he asked quietly, “Can you follow this dance?”
Her head came up. She seemed almost affronted. “I’ve never met an instrument I couldn’t play or a dance I couldn’t follow. That’s a part of my gifts, my inheritance from the Raven, like it or not.”
“Then you will dance with me?”
She was still clinging to his fingertips. After an instant of visible indecision, she made up her mind and slid her hand fully into his.
“I’d be honored, Lord Cole of the Simathe.”
He didn’t bother correcting her, reminding her his official title was Cole, Lord among Simathe. Instead, he took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, as any other Aerisian gentleman would have done, before leading her towards the center of the Grand Chamber where dancing took place. Seeing them walking together, headed that direction, people fell out of the way, murmuring. Due to elevated senses, a part of his heritage, he could hear most of what was said but ignored it all, surprised by none of it.
At the edge of the dance floor they stood together, waiting for the current set to end. Whispers were tracing around the room, like ripples in a pond. Although it did not bother him, he glanced down at her, standing next to him, to see whether she was being affected. If she was, she did a masterful job hiding it. She was simply watching the dancers, smiling a little, as if she hadn’t any idea the Grand Chamber was buzzing like a hive of bees with gossip about her. Perhaps, due to her former life, she was accustomed to it. At last, the song ended, some dancers leaving the floor and some staying. Other couples started to drift forward and she looked up at him.
“Ready?” she asked.
He nodded. His pace measured, unhurried, he took her out onto the middle of the floor. They separated, turning to face each other, waiting for the music to begin. The entire Grand Chamber was now awash in whispers, with far more heads turned their way than not. Cole chose to ignore them. Annie was staring up at him, her features so serene he could not tell what she was thinking. An opening chord was struck. He stepped forward and placed a hand on her waist, registering the shape and feel of her hip. Another chord. She stooped slightly to catch up her gown before placing her hand in his. The satin was smooth against the callouses of his palms. Her fingers were warm in his. She set her other hand on his shoulder.
The music began to flow and he put them in motion. A half-turn. Stop. Another half-turn. Stop. Then sliding into rhythm together, into three full circles. Stop. To the right side. To the left. She caught on without hesitation to the pattern of steps he’d observed enough times to memorize without intending to. He spun her out and back in to a musical flourish. When she whirled back, she turned into his hold a little tighter, pressing a little closer, placing her hand on his chest instead of his shoulder. That was not necessarily correct, but she did not remove her hand as she continued to move with him. Throughout each step and turn, she stared up at him, trusting him to lead her. He could not deduce her thoughts, but she was certainly not stiff in his hold.
“I’m impressed,” she said, after several moments had gone by. “You’re very good on your feet.”
He supposed that was high praise, coming from her, considering what she was supposed to have been on Earth.
Three more full circles. A pause. Again he spun her out, her flaming skirts swishing across his boots. He pulled her in, even marginally tighter, missing the heat of her palm against his torso when her hand crept back to his shoulder. She may have changed hand positions, but she did not lean back. She was content to dance so close their bodies nearly touched.
“Annie,” he said finally, “Allow me to explain about our quarrel.”
She shook her head and looked away, breaking eye contact. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything.”
But he did.
“From the beginning, I was drawn to you,” he confessed. At that, her eyes darted back to his. “However, my Chief Captain distrusted you just as soon, suspecting your heritage. He bid me watch you, told me the Artan’s safety, Aerisia’s safety, hinged upon it.”
A decided coolness draped itself across her features. Nevertheless, she continued to move her body in rhythm with his, with the melody offered by the musicians seated in the corner of the Grand Chamber.
“You must understand,” he continued, searching for the right words, wondering if any of this was right. He was Simathe. He was not given to words, but he wanted her to know. “My life has been Treygon. There was I taken as a child, raised and trained. My purpose has been obeying my lords and serving Aerisia. I liked you, lass. I saw no darkness in you, but I had a duty to my lords.”
“So you kept spying on me and lying to me because you were told to, even though you didn’t like it.”
“I did not lie to you.”
“I think cozying up to me, pretending to be my friend while secretly spying on me, counts as deception, don’t you? And isn’t deception a form of lying?’
“As you deceived Lady Hannah and the rest of us by not disclosing your past and your gifts with music?”
Anger flashed across her face when he turned her argument back on its head. For the first time, her feet missed a step and she stumbled. He stopped entirely, giving her space to recover, but didn’t release her hands, her waist.
“Everybody is staring,” she whispered furiously.
“Let them.”
She spoke true. Nearly the entire room had gone silent while they danced, with every Aerisian except the couples actively on the floor stopping their business to gaze in disbelief at the sight of a Simathe lord on the dance floor. On the dance floor with a woman from Earth.
“Fine, but at least start moving again, so they’re not watching us fight in the middle of the dance floor.”
He complied, sliding them into rhythm with the music. She took several breaths, whether to calm herself or give herself a chance to think, he did not know. He waited until she was prepared to speak.
“I guess you have a point,” she said reluctantly. “I was just…hurt…because I thought you were my friend, only to find out you’d been watching me and reporting my every move to your lords. It felt like a betrayal of whatever was between us.”
“I did not report everything.”
That caught her attention. “You didn’t?”
His mind skipped to the night the Raven had assaulted her in her room, calling her his daughter, the night he had decided not to share her business with his lords.
The warrior shook his head. “Some things I thought were your own to keep.”
“Oh.” She appeared at a loss, a frown puckering the skin between her brows.
“Just as you thought some things were your own to keep.”
“What?” She glanced up, surprised.
“Servants talk. Did you truly think to conceal the fact that you were attacked and injured?”
Her cheeks flushed a dusky rose. “I—I just…”
“Why would you not wish me to know, Annie?” he asked gently.
She looked away, pursing her lips, refusing to answer.
“Because you were angry with me?”
She was moving with him, but her mind seemed very away. “Let’s talk about something else,” she said.
Silence drifted between them. The dance was preparing to end; he could tell by the strains of the music. Without seeking permission, he pulled her fractionally tighter, his fingertips pressing into her back, causing her to look up into his face.
“I did not seek to win your trust so I might spy on you,” he said. “I befriended you because I wished to. Treygon had naught to do with that.”
She stared at him a long, weighty moment, as if gauging the sincerity of his words.
“Is that true?”
“I rarely befriend anyone, much less the people I watch.”
