Eliuteria

Chapter 3

It would have been a lie to say that I didn't secretly love the rooftop ballroom. A dome, as thin and transparent as a soap bubble—and with the same iridescent colors occasionally coming into view, protected the room from the elements without giving up the view that a cloudless night offered. Floating lights hovered above each of the finely adorned tables. We had been up here for hours before the sunset setting each one up, making sure each tablecloth was without a wrinkle or unsightly crease.

After the sun set and two of our moons were well on the rise, the whole place turned into something magical. The lights that hovered above each of the tables burned like orbs of fire, but had no heat to the touch and were luminescent enough to offer visibility without taking away from the atmosphere. Not that it would be appreciated by any of the guests.

Watching the moons rise, I felt alone up there and relaxed.

Guests had yet to arrive. Like us, they had a full day though theirs was spent enjoying the battles, shopping, and drinking. They, of course, had to change into attire more appropriate for a party at the home of the zashar. For some, that alone would take hours. Many of the Morri used these parties as an excuse to don the most unique and expensive fashion.

But the musicians were already present and a melodic, quick tune filled the entire room. It was one of the few things of which I could not argue. The Morrí made music that was beautiful. And it was theirs entirely. Since humans arrived, they'd taken influence in many things, but their music had not been influenced by humans at all.

Humans had music and instruments and when I was growing up in a place freer than this, men and women would play the melodies and we would all dance, but it was nothing like the sounds the Morrí band created. What they played was impossible to ignore and even those with the coldest hearts could find an inkling of enjoyment in the tune. Listening to the music was the only time my soul - if I had one - was filled with something other than desperation and anger. It was the only time I felt something close to peace. I wasn't alone in my enjoyment of their music. Every girl, as she checked the room for any imperfections and readied for our guests, tapped a foot or swayed their hips along with the beat.

When everything had been double, triple checked, we lined in front of one of the tables on the perimeter of the room. Later the tables would fill with discarded glasses and plates for us to attend to. There were smaller daziems located on the table we stood in front of with the sole purpose of transporting dirties dishes out of sight. They would go largely unused, the Morrí weren't picky about where they discarded things.

Fourteen of us waited for the doors to open and the room to fill with loud, aggressive Morrí.

Tension built in my shoulders, fourteen for more than two hundred Morrí would make our evening taxing. Typically, twenty girls served at these occasions, but a virus kept several girls from attending. They'd been forced still, to complete their chores but were not allowed to attend the party. The elite wouldn't risk, especially on a night with out-of-town visitors, having a sickly staff.

Finally, the doors opened, and guests trickled in.

I looked to Mia, standing next to me. She raised her eyebrows and blew out a breath.

"Cheers to no fights," she whispered the same words to me she did before every party.

"And surviving the night," I returned.

With her free hand, Mia locked my pinky with hers and squeezed before letting our hands slip apart. Each holding a tray of glasses filled to the brim with bubbling drinks, we split off to serve the Morrí. There was a sort of nervous energy between us all as we made our way around the room, filling with more Morri by the minute.