Page 11 of Stealing Samantha

“Hi—that’s me. I’m here to observe the rehearsal,” Sam said as she nodded towards one of the many posters featuring the Xithilene dancers.

“Yes, follow me.”

She didn’t miss the once-over he gave her, and she knew he was probably wondering why she was here. She was wearing half of her outfit from yesterday evening along with one of her audition shirts, and although it wasn’t an awful combination, the look didn’t exactly scream theater aficionado, and although she carried her flute case at her side, she knew this probably wasn’t how hired musicians entered the venue.

“You’re the only guest the Xithilene have requested. We have press teams coming in later this afternoon to take vids and some more stills, but that’s fairly standard.” He didn’t come outright and ask, but she knew what he was wondering.

“I spent a little time on Xithilene earlier this winter. I’m…acquainted with one of the dancers. My sister is in a relationship with a Xithilene captain,” she told him as they walked. The place was a bit eerie when it was empty like this. It was almost a relief when he took her down an unmarked hall and she was able to hear the sounds of people talking and a faint drumbeat.

The man just made a noncommittal sound in his throat and opened a black painted door, motioning for her to enter first. She could hear that the voices were speaking in Xithilene. Another familiar noise made her hesitate long enough that her guide jostled into her back with a bit-off exclamation.

“Sorry,” she said, even as she tried to shake off a sudden chill. If she hadn’t known she was here in the heart of Seattle, she’d have thought she was back in Uvaess’ forest village. Wings—rustling and snapping feathers—that sound overwhelmed everything else.

The man moved ahead and walked her right across the stage towards the group of about twenty Xithilene men and women. She hurried to keep up, her low heels clicking noisily and drawing every glimmering, jewel-toned eye her way. Every single one of them was winged, and the way they tilted their heads as they inspected her felt sickeningly familiar. She clenched her hand around the flute case and felt the slickness of her sweat.

They’d be able to smell it if she let herself get scared. Uvaess had made sure she knew it—that she couldn’t hide anything from him, that her body would betray her no matter how she tried to deny its signals.

“Lady Sam.”

Her eyelids fluttered closed as that voice broke through the rising panic threatening to overwhelm her.

“Jaess,” she replied. Her own voice barely shook. “Thank you for inviting me. I’m so glad to be here,” she added with a smile towards the rest of the Xithilene watching her. “I’ve never seen any formal performances of Xithilene dancing, just what people in the village chose to do while I was visiting Lisseethi. I’m looking forward to observing.” She felt as if she’d done an admirable job of pretending her time in Lisseethi had been as simple as a pleasant visit to the countryside.

That admission and its implications brought on a new flurry of rustling as inquisitive crown feathers twitched and lifted around her.

“You’ve visited Xithilene then, lady?” one of the other men asked.

She dipped her head slightly in his direction so she didn’t have to meet his eyes. “Yes, that’s right. A failed mate portal match,” she told them, hoping the shock of it would keep them from asking for more details. “I can understand Xithilene,” she said as she tapped the area behind her ear where the alien doctors had inserted her translation device after her arrival in Verkissat.

Her guide cleared his throat, a distinctly human sound as he glanced at her as if he’d tasted something sour. “If that’s all, I’ll return to my duties.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly before she turned back to the dancers. “I don’t want to be a bother. Where do you want me to go while you rehearse?” She pretended she couldn’t feel the weight of Jaess’ gaze as she waited for their directions.

Jaess stepped forward, but before he could get any closer, a tall woman with short, red-tipped green feathers approached her.

“Hello, Samantha Chang. I’m Lithi, the director of this branch of the Cultural Exchange Initiative. Welcome. We are happy to have a guest of Captain T’xith among us. Why don’t you go sit down. My dancers and myself will be happy to discuss our work with you after the completion of the rehearsal.”

“Thank you—I can’t wait to watch,” she said, giving the other woman a brief smile before she scanned the edges of the stage for a stairway down.

She’d almost made it to the far side of the stage before she glanced back. He was turned away from her now, his large wings relaxed, the outer tips almost brushing the back of his knees. Xithilene wings weren’t supposed to be quite that big or that long. Could he feel her watching? Was that why he chose that moment to stretch them out? Did he understand the way it’d transfix her to see their full span and the faint patterns made by the shifting colors of his feathers?

His markings were as distinctive as his coloring, halos of brighter golden green blossoming amid the celadon streaked feathers that made up the majority of his wings. Jaess still possessed the black crest of bone that edged the top of each wing, tipped in scythe-like talons, but those dark lines only served to give his feathers a more ethereal glow in contrast.

He didn’t turn back. She shouldn’t have expected him to.

Sam made her way down the steps and took a seat a few rows back. Her fingers curled around the edge of her seat, catching on the velvety red fabric. The lights were still on in the auditorium, and the dancers seemed to have recovered enough from the surprise of her arrival to go back to their light chatter. It was all very typical, incredibly normal.

She set her coat and gloves in the seat beside her and nestled her flute case over them before she bit her lip. She couldn’t leave now, even if it was starting to feel like an awful decision to accept Jaess’ invitation.

The noise coming from the stage gradually faded. Sam glanced up and saw a human woman with her head bent towards the leader of the dance troupe. The woman turned and gave a thumbs up towards the back of the theater and the lights dimmed around her. The dancers spread out in small groups around the strange set pieces she’d only briefly noticed earlier. Flat topped tubes of different sizes and heights were placed throughout the open space.

She didn’t have to wait long to learn their purpose. The music started with a simple drumbeat. At first, none of the Xithilene moved. They all stood like living gargoyles, their heads bowed, wings slightly lifting and lowering above their shoulders with each breath. It wasn’t until the first notes from a mellow flute joined the drums that she even heard the flutter of feathers.

The women stepped forward and began to move with rapid steps and turns so fast she could barely see their feet touch the stage. Not long afterwards, several men ran forward, their wings extended as they leapt towards the tube shaped platforms. More joined them until there was a dark feathered man dancing atop every platform, but she still didn’t see Jaess’ pale wings.

The tempo shifted, and the dancers’ feet moved faster. More Xithilene appeared from the wings as the men on the platforms all jumped down simultaneously. There were so many feathers on display that she could barely see the back of the stage. Each man settled into place behind one of the women, and just as they lifted their partners, sweeping them into the air as if they were weightless, their scales in every shade of green reflecting the harsh stage lights, the music stopped.

It left Sam breathless, as if she’d been running towards the edge of a cliff and somehow managed to stop just in time. She felt as if she should still be falling, as if she were still waiting to be released so that the moment could finish playing out.

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