Arabesque: A Wings Companion

Chapter Fourteen

"And turn and right arm, and, yes, there we are!" Mitchell's frenetic coaching had finally turned positive. Victorious. It took a full weekend of dancing in front of Tamani's computer screen, and four days of working through the steps for hours after class, but finally, the pas de deux was coming together.

Mitchell laughed his contagious laugh as they struck the final pose. He left her, briefly, to turn off the sound-making devices Rowen couldn't have even begun to figure out, then ran back to kiss her on both cheeks. Walking was never good enough for Mitchell, who was eternally swaying, sashaying, or skipping to beats both real and imagined. "You're saving my career."

"Please, you're so good—I'm practically an ornament." She grinned up at him. She'd come to the realization that his overblown flattery really did make her feel more confident, even though she knew it was just that. Praise, much less exaggerated praise, didn't come easily Rowen, but she liked attempting to return the favor. He certainly beamed when she managed to do it without sounding sarcastic.

In fact he was beaming now, his eyes sparkling and with a brightness in his face that still made her shake her head in wonder that he wasn't actually fae. He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed them enthusiastically. "We're both exquisite, but it does help to know the choreography." He sobered and squeezed her fingers. "Row, it took a lot of extra effort on your part and you need to know that I really, really appreciate it. It matters so much."

"Anything for you," Rowen replied, letting his compliment roll off her.

"I," Mitchell said with a dash of melodrama, "am going to let you off early tonight."

"Early?" she said, an eyebrow raised.

"Only two hours of extra practice is early!"

And Rowen had to confess he was right—this week, anyway. All week long, neither had left the studio until the sky was dark. And once Rowen got home—to an empty apartment, as Tamani had gone back to Orick for a bit—she'd put in another hour with the computer and her barely-functional new knowledge of YouTube, mirroring the dancer on the screen, over and over. But the smile on his face when she'd managed to complete the dance without a single misstep had been worth it.

She and Mitchell hugged and made their farewells—with a gaiety that had been sadly absent since his discovery that she didn't know the dance—and Mitchell headed out of the studio ahead of her, already dialing his phone. Rowen moved more slowly. It had been an odd, lonely week. The plan had always been for Tamani to only come down to San Francisco occasionally; he and Laurel had a sprout to nurture, after all. But his departure had seemed ... abrupt, somehow. And while his absence wasn't terrifying, as it might have been scant weeks ago, it was a little scary to be surrounded by humans without a Spring faerie nearby to control them, if necessary.

Furthermore, his departure meant that she'd ridden the train in to the dance school every day. That by itself was almost as much an education as her hours exploring this Nutcracker. Humans in dizzying variety rode the train—old and young, large and small, every color of skin and hair and clothing imaginable. They were a mixed flowerbed to rival any in Avalon. And so many! Hundreds upon hundreds, everywhere you looked, like there was a festival going on at every place the train stopped. The humans talked, ate, read books, listened to music, or—like Rowen—simply sat in silence, hunched down in their seats.The children looked much more like fae children than the baby Rowen had seen at Cheslea's—still alarmingly slow-witted for their size, but Rowen had to keep reminding herself that in their minds, she was physically behind for her own age.