Light and Shadows

Dances with Venthyr

Takes place before the imprisonment of Denathrius, a few weeks before "An Ember Court to Remember"

Under no circumstances was he to dance with the Maw Walker, Renathal told himself sternly.

It did not matter if the idea had haunted him since she first mentioned booking the Lost Chalice Band for the Ember Court. And it did not matter if every other Venthyr in Sinfall had taken a turn whirling themselves on and above the courtyard's makeshift dance floor. It was far too dangerous a prospect even to contemplate. If anything was likely to reveal to the Maw Walker - and everyone else watching - the extent of Renathal's decidedly non-platonic feelings for her, it would be that. And while their regular evening briefings may have drifted from the sheltered harbor of casual conversation into the ocean of open flirtation, he still preferred not to announce to the entire realm they were testing those unchartered depths.

And, anyway, the point was moot. Apparently, the Maw Walker had no wish to dance.

Renathal played a reckless game of jealousy, guilt, and relief as guest after guest approached her to request the honour and one by one she refused them all. Occasionally, he was close enough to hear her excuse. She did not dance. She would love to dance, just as soon as she finished some other important task. She had done something wretched to her foot. She was swamped with her duties as hostess and simply could not spare the time.

Not until court was nearly concluded did someone manage to sway her reluctance.

Renathal watched in ill-concealed horror as the Maw Walker gave a small, almost genuine smile to a Venthyr male a head shorter than she, and escorted him onto the dance floor. She spent a minute helping him appropriately place his hands, and a dredger near Renathal grumbled as it mopped the puddle under the Prince's upset teacup. At last, the Maw Walker took a painfully slow step forward and began to lead the other Venthyr in what could only generously be termed a dance.

Her partner was - in Renathal's entirely objective opinion - the most uncoordinated being he'd ever had the displeasure of watching. He spent the first few perambulations trampling the Maw Walker's toes. He tripped on his cloak, his own feet, and thin air; twice he nearly knocked his partner flat. Nevertheless, the Maw Walker patiently reined in his haphazard limbs, corralling his awkward steps into some semblance of structured movement. The jealously roiling in Renathal's stomach as he watched made him physically ill.

The Maw Walker was certainly entitled to dance with whomever she liked, and he could hardly expect her to choose himself when he had spent all court studiously not asking her. But him? This clumsy buffoon of a Venthyr was the Maw Walker's pick of the whole Ember Court? Because there was no doubt she was enjoying herself. In spite of the dance's distinct lack of grace, her usually small, inscrutable smile nearly burst the seams of her face.

And it was that face, that expression, which broke the Dark Prince's adamant resolve. His desire to see the Maw Walker look at him like that, to be the reason her smile blossomed and her blue-white eyes softened, subsumed all other instinct. And surely, he consoled his bruised better sense, this was part of his royal duties? Was he not obligated to show his mortal champion - and dear friend - what a proper Venthyr dance should look like?

The song ended, and the dancers stopped to politely applaud. With a little bow, the Maw Walker passed her partner on to a female waiting nearby, then stepped off the platform, panting slightly from the exertion of keeping the other Venthyr in line. She paused to drink deeply from a glass she had left in the care of her dredger butler, and Renathal glided over swiftly, composing his face into something suitably arch along the way.

"I confess," he said without preamble. "I am fascinated by your choice of dance partner. With the entire Ember Court at your service, your selection is somewhat ... unexpected."