Page 177 of Anathema

“I swear he gleans sadistic pleasure in making me miserable.” It was interesting, the way she constantly perceived him as a threat to her recklessness, much the way Aleysia probably perceived me.

“Or maybe he cares about you quite a bit.”

“If he cared so much, he wouldn’t lock me away in that horrible place.”

“And you still see fit to pair us together?” I wondered if our commonalities were obvious to her.

“It’s diverting to see him so provoked. And you, dear Maevyth, provoke him.” Through the crowd, she led me toward a man with black hair pulled back from a face that was painted in silver and purple. He also wore a skintight suit of black, purple and silver. Guests had gathered in a circle around him, as he performed strange contortions of his body, bending and stretching into positions that seemed impossible.

Light throughout the ballroom dimmed, and the guests gasped in unison, as something moved overhead. I glanced up to see ribbons falling from the domed ceiling, where they hovered just above the floor. Two men in skintight suits–one the pattern of a snow leopard, the other like iridescent green scales—dangled from the ropes at the top. Both of them dropped down the threads, and I held my breath. A few screams from the audience echoed in the otherwise quiet room. The men caught themselves about six meters from the ground, where they hung suspended in the purple and black threads. The green-scaled man held a glass globe of fire, which he kept undisturbed while balanced on his palm, as he flipped and twirled in the long ribbons. The leopard-skinned man spun impossibly fast in the ribbons, the speed of which left me dizzy as I stared, mesmerized.

The man in the circle below them bent backward, which thrusted his groin upward, drawing attention to a massive bulge between his slender thighs. Some of the guests whispered and giggled amongst themselves.

“Oh, my,” Rykaia said beside me, clearly enraptured by it, as she also stared.

While they ogled his anatomy, I found myself looking around in search of Zevander, and felt a slight tug of my arm. When I turned back toward the circle, the contortionist stood before me, twisting his body in a way that had me wincing. In his painfully disfigured form, he somehow managed to slide his hand down into the tight neck of his shirt and pulled out a black rose with silver edges.

Frowning, I stared back at the flower, which matched the one I’d discovered in the book Dolion had given me.

Straightening himself upright again, he stood and bowed as he handed it off to me, which I reluctantly accepted.

The crowd clapped, and the contortionist slid his palm across my stomach, his gaze lingering as he sauntered away.

“Well, you seem to be hard to ignore.” Rykaia chuckled, and when another servant passed by, she traded the empty goblets for two more, freshly poured drinks, one of which she handed to me.

Music rose above the babbling voices, and Rykaia darted forward, waving me after her toward a massive clearing. For a moment, my stomach gurgled, thinking we were about to witness The Becoming Ceremony, as Princess Calisza stepped into the center of the clearing. Her brother strode up to her, lifting his palm to hers, and the two engaged in a dance.

“As he represents the future, Dorjan will be the one to give her away,” Rykaia whispered beside me.

Others from the crowd joined the prince and his sister, forming a line of synchronized movements that complimented the music. In the dimness of the light that persisted after the acrobatic act, an enchanting seductive ambience blanketed the room. The more people joined, the more the clearing filled, until I could hardly make out the other side where Zevander stood. The line broke off into couples, performing the dance with each other.

Through gaps in the crowd, I saw the prince wave to the grump, who raised his hand to decline at first, but the prince seemed insistent, calling him into the circle. My heart shivered at the sight of him in his black jacket and breeches–a shadow in the crowd. A wolf in the birch.

A new song played, one whose drums pounded through my chest with a sensual rhythm, the beat so powerful, it vibrated my lungs.

Zevander’s gaze fell on me, and he flicked his fingers, calling me toward him.

“Do you know how the scorpion chooses his mate?” Rykaia whispered in my ear. “Promenade à deux. By asking her to dance.”

My muscles trembled as I handed her the rose and stepped through the crowd toward him. On one hand, I was surprised he’d called me over, placing me in the center of the room with everyone. On the other hand, it made sense. Fewer were standing on the outskirts, as more guests joined in the dance, which would’ve eventually drawn attention to me.

“I’m not familiar with this dance,” I whispered, glancing around for some instruction by watching the others. Rykaia had only shown me the waltz, and this was far more seductive.

“Follow my lead.” With that, he banded his arm around my waist, his other palm against mine.

I managed to step on his boots a few times, and nearly tumbled backward before he tightened his grip around me, but his hands guided me with gentle force.

“I understand you intended to send me off to Calyxar.” I kept my voice low and between us, glancing around at the others, whose movements reminded me of a battle between the couples, circling, pulling, pushing.

“You’d have been safer there. Far safer than you are now.”

“What could be safer than dancing with a king’s assassin?” My whispered voice held a small bit of amusement, but he had no reaction. “You gave your blessings to see me go. You must truly want me out of Eidolon.”

“I don’t.” He dipped me backward, his masked face low to my throat. “But you clearly have no idea what hunts you here,” he said, guiding me upright again. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been so foolish to come.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak behind your back.”

“It isn’t you who should apologize.”

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