Page 9 of Caged By Dance and Desire

It wasn't that I didn't want him; of course I wanted him. I wanted him with a force that bewildered me because I hadn’t thought myself capable of the strength of what I felt. Every last drop of passion funneled into my dance. Into surviving and managing my healthsoI could dance.

It was too soon, too new. The confusing whirlwind of thoughts, emotions, desires that were and weren’t mine. . .I needed time to put my head back on straight. To consider and absorb the implications of asoulbondwith a High Fae Lord.

Having sex with him would be the depth of idiocy at this point, even if the logistics weren’t already tedious.

Still, with a few drugging kisses, a melody of heated whispers, he could have eroded away every last iota of common sense.

He hadn’t.

It. . .gave me hope. Hope that I meant something to him, or else he would have taken me because my feelings and reticence didn’t matter. A man with his power didn’t wait for a woman unless he wanted to keep her.

I let myself out of my apartment. Mathen appeared in the hallway and took in my appearance; freshly showered and dressed in leggings, t-shirt, and flats, my hair in a slick bun. He offered to take my gym bag with a silent glance. I smiled and shook my head, sipping on my thermos of cold brew.

“Oh! Did you start your shift early? I have cold brew.”

He glanced at me, a smile in his eyes. “Thank you for the offer, Lady, but I had what I needed this morning.”

“Well, settle in for a boring day. I don't suppose you're a dancer? Well, all Fae are dancers, right?”

“Not in the same sense that you dance, no.”

I chatted at him as we left, using the shield of bubbly conversation to slip in a few innocent questions. But he was one of those annoying men who stopped to think before he spoke, so I wasn't sure if my tactic was working or not.

After a few minutes of conversation, I was sure it wasn't, beginning to notice his skillful deflections and re-directions. The occasional slightly amused or bemused glance. He wasn't quite the stoic, stern Fae bodyguard I'd envisioned in my head, though he was watchful and serious enough.

Once we left the building I began walking down the street as usual, heading to the transportation stop three blocks away.

Mathen clucked and touched my shoulder to halt me, gesturing to a coach I'd almost passed.

I stopped, feeling my mouth fold in a stubborn line. The practical side of my nature tried to swat away my instinct towards independence. The coach was nondescript, and just scruffy enough it could more or less blend into everyday traffic, but clearly of excellent quality and in perfect repair.

Mathen glanced at my face, his lips twitching. “I thought taking a private conveyance rather than public would be more expedient for your schedule. It would leave you time in the morning to meditate and what not.”

I looked at him, narrowing my eyes. “Oh, you're good. Real smooth, mister. You can tell your Lord that I'm perfectly capable of getting to the studio all on my own, like I have been for the last several weeks.”

“Your capabilities are not in doubt, Lady. It's safer,” he added quietly, again with that air of a boy coaxing a baby bird out of it’s nest. “A public conveyance would make it more difficult to secure you.”

He waited for me to make my decision. If he'd tried to bully me, or said something condescending or patronizing, I would've turned on my heels and Dora Explorered all the way to the public bus stop. Backpack, backpack. But I had a weakness for good manners, and he hadn't said anything impractical.

“Fine,” I said with a grumble. “We'll take the rich man's way to work.”

“There are benefits,” was his placid reply as he opened the coach door and helped me inside, “to being the consort of a High Lord.”

I leaned my head against the back of the coach and closed my eyes, sighing. Mathen was right. . .I could use this time to meditate.

“I don't doubt it. But what are the benefits to the High Lord for claiming a lowly human?” I wrinkled my nose. “That was rhetorical, by the way. My ego doesn't actually want to hear you scrambling for a flattering response. She can hear false flattery a mile away.”

Mathen snorted as the coach lurched into motion. “You will see.”

The company building was a three story stone and wood structure with an inner courtyard and an amateur theater for performances. Professional performances were staged in the official theater deeper downtown.

As I jogged down the halls, I caught a glimpse of Iliweh, the High Fae Cassanian opera singer, painted on posters advertising their upcoming concert, and felt a pang of longing.

I sighed. This was not the season for play or relaxation. One day I’d have the time and money for things like concerts and travel and real food.

I shimmied out of my outer layers and approached the barre where Taima, Samuel, and Coralene were already warming up. No, I didn’t make friends easily, but the four of us had gravitated to each other from the beginning of the season. Even if I hadn’t genuinely liked them, it was good business to cultivate allies. Sabotage was always a not so distant threat, competition for spots in the company cutthroat.

“Judging isn't supposed to begin until the showcase,” Taima was saying unhappily.

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