A Court of Innocents

41: Agilia

Half the crowd followed me with their eyes as I stepped onto the dance floor. The other half didn't dare to turn their gaze from the High Lord of Spring, who must be out of his mind for treating Helion's palace like his own.

I began to move. It was slow and clumsy and terrifying at first. I was painfully aware of so many eyes on me, so many thoughts of me wandering through dark, cruel minds. But when I closed my eyes, when I told myself that I was back at my favorite nightclub in Velaris, dancing with Mor, my feet became steady again. And when even that daydream failed, I told myself that there was no one here but Tamlin. There was no one in the world, except for us, and I would happily dance for him until my feet bled.

The music grew in volume as my confidence surged. Every twist and twirl and movement of my hands was precise, every bend of my legs practiced. The seaglass floor became the night sky, and I became the wind that danced through the clouds. This was an art that my mind may have forgotten, but my body never did.

Every pair of eyes in the courtyard was locked on me now, Tamlin suddenly forgotten. But not to me. He was the only thing I was aware of. Him—and the fire surging inside of me.

And then arms were around me. I smiled without opening my eyes, knowing who it was without having to see him. His legs moved in time with mine, never missing a beat, never faltering. We were magnetic.

When the song faded, transitioning into an even quicker beat, Tamlin whispered one thing in my mind: the Waltz of Amora.

I didn't have time to question if I could pull it off, didn't have time to grow nervous at the thought of such a challenging stunt. The music was already throwing us into the beginning of the new dance. The Waltz of Amora was a story in a song, a tale of two lovers trapped between worlds, fighting to find each other again. It was beautiful. But it wasn't notable for its lovely tale. It was famous for the fifteen spins at the song's climax. The last thirty seconds of the piece were nothing but a symbol of blind trust on the female's part. If she had any doubt that her partner couldn't hold her steady, couldn't be her center of gravity for thirty whole seconds, then she would falter. Either look a fool for daring to attempt such a feat, or worse—walk away with cuts and bruises.

But as we danced beside each other, against each other, with each other—there was no room for doubt. There was nothing but our pulses matching the rhythm of the song, drawing us together only to twirl us away. He laughed joyously, and I wanted to swallow that glorious sound. Wanted to memorize the taste of it.

I had danced like this once, wildly and freely and frequently. In another court, another lifetime. They'd nicknamed me Agilia, the girl with nimble bones. The urge to dance had been in my blood, in my heart, and every time I indulged, it became fuel to my fire.

Now, as I danced the way I hadn't dared to in centuries, it didn't just stir my power. It woke me up. It brought me back to life, and I hadn't even known I'd been dying.

And it was all for him.

My friend.

My mate.

My High Lord.

My eternal partner, in this life, and the next.

I moved for him, letting the beat of the drums become my pulse, my feet never stilling. No, there was no room for doubt at all.

The grand notes rose higher and higher, a crescendo of roaring sound. The first spin began. I made it look easy. Tamlin turned my arm, becoming a solid wall of strength for me to bounce off. We were grand and timeless in our movements, in our love. The second and third and fourth spins followed, and I didn't have to think of my next move, not when my feet already knew the path to take.