Page 65 of Lord of Dance and Desire

The man staring down at me was the opposite of indolent, and no where near safe.

“Do you think his invisible cage is better than mine, the one you can see?”

“I know you, Hasannah. If you felt the need to use this gem, then one day you would have walked away. You wouldn’t have given me a chance to defend our life.”

“Andrei, I?—”

“Be quiet.”

Andrei dragged me out of the closet towards the bed, flinging me down. I pushed up on my elbows, glaring, meeting him as he placed a knee on the bed and leaned over me. The internal struggle not to pounce, pin me, rippled through our bond. I didn’t care. I’d just call the luudthen, and they’d beat his ass down.

But abruptly he straightened, backing away. “You're right, Anah. I can't chain you to me. Oh, Icould. But I have no use for a weeping shadow at my side.”

He turned and left the bedroom.

It felt like he was telling me goodbye.

Andrei didn't speak to me the remainder of the day, or the next. He was courteous, still attentive, and he did nothing to distance the others from me the way he distanced himself. He came to mybedroom at night and lifted me into his arms, carrying me back to his bed. But he didn’t touch me other than to hold me, though the way he held me. . .

I couldn’t sleep that night. He held me like he was letting me go.

I said nothing, a slow dread building in my stomach because when it came down to it, I didn't want to leave this man, this family. I didn't want to leave this home I had been integrating myself into. None of my anger over what I considered the trampling of my basic rights of existence lessened—as I’d told him, I understood what he was. I accepted it.

It didn't mean I had to like it.

It didn't mean I had to take it.

Why couldn't he accept I needed the security of a backup plan? The way I accepted that by staying with him, I was agreeing to their twisted little societal norms. I was trying to compromise!

My resentment grew to match his until we were silently hissing at each other. The luudthen noticed, of course, and oddly enough no one said anything. Maybe they understood this was a battle we had to fight on our own, without intervention for once.

But Andrei came to me, told me to get dressed, and then escorted me into the nondescript coach. He was dressed down today, which for him meant no makeup or jewelry, and his clothing was plain and black though impeccably tailored as always. The Heir of Casakraine didn'tdosweats. He also didn't do “throw on a pair of jeans and t-shirt and run to the store.”

“Where are we going?” I asked. “I’d rather you torture me here. More comfy.”

He ignored me.

I stared out the window, arms crossed over my chest as I deep breathed during the trip, ignoring him in favor of not freaking out. Sweet Jesus, I really loathed coaches now. I'd gotten a little better, but the phobia had returned with a vengeance.

As it pulled to a stop, I wiped the back of my hand on my forehead and then the back of my neck, trying to dot away the perspiration.

So busy suppressing my nausea, I didn't pay attention as Andrei helped me out of the coach. I stared at the ground as we walked—slowly, so he must have realized I felt sick. The ambient noise of the outdoor crowd gained my attention once I felt well enough to lift my head.

“I know this place.” It reminded me of the train stations of old in movies. High, soaring ceilings, marble, milling people.

This was Casakraine’s Realm Gate station. There weren't many people, because it wasn't a train station, and travel through it was almost neurotically controlled.

Andrei led me to an anti-chamber and through one wall of one-way glass I saw the gate shining between two tall pillars, looking like a sheet of shimmering energy and nothing at all like inter-dimensional portal travel.

I was hazy on the magtech involved.

Wait? Why were we here? All of the reasons I could think of made me rethink a lifetime of conflict avoidance.

I was about to shove conflict right up Andrei’s ass.

I turned on him. “What is this, Andrei?” I fisted my hands at my sides because for the first time in my life—well, no, the second—I wanted to do real violence to someone. “This is?—”

“The Sahakian-Casakraine private entrance to the realm gate.” He continued to stare down at me, his arms folded over his chest.

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