Page 88 of Caged By Dance and Desire

I shifted on my feet. “When I went for the walk after the party? I kind of ditched my guard. I. . .persuaded him to let me go out on my own. That was how the abductors gained the opportunity.”

She gave me a flat, ice blue stare. “You beguiled one of the High Lord’s warriors into breaking their oath, which resulted in your kidnapping, almost death, and a brush with war in the High Court.” She paused a beat. “Is your guard still alive?”

“Yes. How did you conclude all of that?”

“Please, the insult. I can’t bear it. Your High Lord must value you.”

I looked away.

“I don’t envy you. Very well. Pay attention. Lamia-born means a mortal descended from Fae stock of the succubus sub-species—enchanters who use the power of voice to entice others to their will. You also inherited an affinity for dance, which means you can be trained in its use. If it were the wild magic, this discussion would be pointless. No one can train or reproduce Skills.” She quieted for another several minutes. “It’s almost better for you if you don’t call on the succubus blood, especially with the affinity.”

“Why?”

She smiled. “Oh, my dear, we have a word for mortals who can compel others through art. Though inspire is a gentler word.”

“The word?”

“Muse. And that makes you potentially dangerous, as well as merely valuable. Hasannah, do not tell Lord Issahelle. I have some doubts she would allow her Heir to take a consort who could potentially influence him.”

“She would make him break up with me?”

Coralene gave me a long, pitying look of the “you poor child” variety, then left the utility closet.

For rehearsals, Vargas took us for the first time to the main stage in the downtown theater to practice the group numbers. After that we were assigned time slots for solo rehearsal.

There was no practical purpose in holding back. Cora knew, at least one Lord of the High Court knew, Andrei knew.

During my solo rehearsal, I gave it everything.

On the stage, under the glaring lights, I sank into the music, the rhythm of my choreography, toes skimming the stage and leaving it all together as I soared through the air.

When I was finished, the theater was so entirely silent I thought everyone had left.

And then the talking began.

“That’s Cassanian choreography,” “She’s never danced like that in rehearsals,” “Han, what thehell, girl?”

A part of me had always craved the attention, the praise, but what I saw and heard was neither.

Envy.

Unease.

Anger and growing resentment.

“Humans can’t dance like that,” someone said.

“Did you hear about the pre-showcase party?” Xavi’s voice. “She showed up with a Lord of the High Court and there was almost a fight. She can’t be full human. What a lying bitch.”

“Fae can’t lie.”

“Yeah. They omit like a muthafucker, though.”

I stopped listening, left the stage and headed down the hall to retrieve my duffle bag.

I’d always known it would be lonely at the top.

But now the arrow had pierced me in the gut. . .I wasn’t certain I still wanted it. For the first time I wavered—then crushed the misgiving as soon as it rose. Too late to turn back now.

---