Page 76 of Shadow Kissed
“Thank you, Commander,” Moryen says, stepping forward, essentially halting any further questions on the matter. “Classes will begin tomorrow. Mistress Warbow will hand you your schedule as you leave the room. Anyone late for class willcomplete chores after classes. Tomorrow marks the start of the most important journey of your lives. You are the chosen ones, and it is up to you to prove that the gods have chosen you wisely.” She claps her hands together once, effectively dismissing us, and I lead the line out of the hall. Mistress Warbow hands me a paper with our schedules, and I skim it quickly. My heart drops as I study it. Music, dance, etiquette, crochet, culture, history. Gods, spare me! Wait a minute! Archery, combat skills, and physical education. My face lights up with a smile. Thank the goddess, there are at least three classes I can excel at. I stride up the stairs two at a time, eager to be away from the suffocating presence of so many females. I pretend not to hear Saveya shout after me and make a beeline for our wing. I breathe a sigh of relief when I reach my room and close the door behind me.
Everything is about to change.
30
REYA
Istand at the back of the room, leaning against the wall-to-ceiling mirrors, ready to start our first dance class. I huff as I look at the ridiculous dresses we must wear for this class. Full length and layer after layer of organza.
I’d sworn like a miner when I’d had to put it on this morning. Orna laughed at me and told me I was being ridiculous. The shoes were the worst part, though. How in the goddess are these practical to dance in? It will be like dancing balancing on a needle!
There’s a murmur of surprise when a Shadow Borne male walks into the room. He looks to be middle-aged and has a perfectly groomed moustache sitting above his stiff upper lip. He’s small for one of their kind and wears a waistcoat adorned with crystals.
“Good morning, good morning, ladies. I am Arzhel Skystride, and I am your dance teacher! By the time you attend the ball, you will be masters of the dancefloor, gliding across it with finesse and grace.”
I can’t help the snicker that leaves my mouth. I mean, grace and finesse aren’t exactly two words I’d used to describe my dancing skills.
“Miss, you have something to say?” he asks me as he glides closer to us.
“No, nothing,” I reply. I’m hoping I can fade into the background, and no one will notice how appallingly bad I am.
He claps his hands together excitedly. “Your first ball is in two months. This will be your chance to impress and show your potential. Today we will learn a basic and traditional dance called the ‘Swaltza de Umbra’.”
He closes his eyes and touches his heart dramatically. He is passionate about his subject, that’s for sure. “Now choose a partner and decide which one of you will lead and which will follow, and we will learn the basic steps.”
Girls quickly pick their dance partners as I glance around the room, feeling hopeless. Saveya appears before me and winks. “Ready, partner?”
I grimace. “Are you sure you want to partner with me? I’m borderline terrible and have two left feet.”
Saveya snorts and dismisses my comment. “Nonsense, you can’t be that bad.”
I fight a laugh. “Oh, I am that bad.”
“Take your positions! One arm at the waist and one holding their hands for the male. Females with one hand on their shoulder and the other clasped tightly within their hands. And now we dance.” He closes his eyes for a second and sways to the rhythm of the piano notes. “It’s all about feeling the rhythm and becoming at one with it. Step right, step left, step back, right, right, left, left. Then release away and come back together. And again, right foot, left foot, back a step, right, right, ah very good. A natural Miss Willowshine.”
I roll my eyes. Of course, Shalia is a natural!
“Ouch,” Saveya groans, as I stand on her foot again.
“Sorry.” I grimace. “I warned you I’m terrible.”
Saveya shakes out her foot and forces a smile. “It’s fine. Hopefully, I’ll still have sensation in my feet by the end of class. Let’s try again. Ready?”
She looks at me with expectant hope and I nod my head. Right foot, left foot and then was it forward and back? I stomp on Saveya’s foot, and she lets out a yelp of pain, and we step apart.
A few of the girls on either side of us giggle and I flush red in the cheeks, feeling humiliated.
“Are you deaf or lacking coordination, Miss Lockwood?” our teacher asks as he strides over; disappointment written all over his frowning face. “Were you born with hooves for feet?”
One girl right next to us snickers and makes a neighing sound and I see red. I turn on my heels, ready to give her a piece of my mind, when someone grabs a hold of my wrist and twirls me into their arms.
“If dancing is all about the rhythm, Master Arzhel, then teach your students to feel the rhythm and not think in steps.” I look up into the steel-grey eyes of the Lord Commander. “Ridiculing your students is not the way to get the best out of them.” Raegal reaches out a finger and places it under my chin. “Close your eyes, Eretreya. Imagine you’re holding a sword.” He taps his fingers against mine to the beat of the piano tempo. “You sidestep right and avoid his sword and then left as you counterattack. You step back out of his attack and swipe and swipe with your sword to his right and then his left.”
I close my eyes and allow his voice to guide me. Picturing myself in the sparring ring with him, a sword in my hand, as we spar. He spins me out and then pulls me back in and he clutches at the back of my dress at my waist. “It’s just like sparring. You move on the balls of your feet and when your partner stepsforward, you step back,” he whispers into my ear, causing a shiver to tingle down my spine. “Follow the beat of your heart, buh-bum, buh-bum, buh-bum, buh-bum,” he instructs, as his fingers move against the tips of mine to the beat. “Now just feel it. Open your eyes and keep them on mine. No looking at your feet. Eyes on me the entire time.”
I open my eyes and the first thing I see are his near-silver ones staring back at me. I fight the urge to wrap my arms around his neck. “Concentrate, Terror. We’re following the rhythm, remember,” he reminds me with a knowing smirk. “Now sword up high and it clashes against mine and we push, and we pull.” His opposite arm holds mine in the air as his other holds mine at the base of my back. “There is nothing you can’t do, terror. You just have to believe in yourself. You dance like you fight, with grace and elegance.”
I’m lost in his eyes as we dance. My nerves and embarrassment forgotten as he thrums the beat on my fingers and guides me through each step, all the while our eyes are locked together. He spins me out and pulls me back in, with my back against his chest. He encircles my waist, my arms enclosed beneath his. “Dancing is like just like fighting. You follow the rhythm and mirror your opponent.”