Page 28 of The Red Woman on Mars

Ambient lighting bathed the manor, and the strains of string music echoed. The women mounted the steps and entered the great hall. Emerald vines adorned the spiral staircase cascading down into the spacious entryway.

In the foyer, they were met by Wim. He seemed to startle when he looked at her, then his head tilted as if he were listening to something far away. Wim bowed stiffly in her direction. “At the advice of the Intelligence, I take this opportunity of soliciting you, Miss Vivian, for your first dance.”

Vivian frowned. Why would he pay her attention, especially after her recent unsanctioned adventure? After a nudge from Luz, she cleared her throat and said, “I’m honored.”

Wim placed his hand lightly under hers and led her into the great room.

The walls of the room sparkled with glowing violet lighting. Tiered platters of food lined the edges of the room and discreet Earther servers moved through the crowd with trays of coupe glasses filled with pale sparkling wine. Martian couples circled elegantly to the classical music played by a six-piece orchestramounted on a low dais. Without giving her a moment to catch her bearings, Wim took her directly onto the dance floor.

The dance was mortifying. Wim was both awkward and solemn, often moving wrong without being aware of it. He spoke to her very little and seemed intent upon following the steps. She was relieved when he released her.

Finally free, Vivian found Luz and Delilah standing near one of the refreshment tables. “Did you not enjoy Reverend Adair’s undivided attention?” Luz teased.

“I think he bruised my toe with those awful little boots.” She looked sharply at her sister. “Why aren’t you on the dance floor?”

“Oh …” Delilah twisted her hands. “I’m just …” She looked across the room, and Vivian followed her gaze to where Caspian circled, shaking hands with his Martian guests and laughing jovially. Perhaps her sister cared about Caspian’s attention after all. “Have you tried the pastries, Viv?”

Vivian had just popped the pastry in her mouth when she sensed a tall, looming presence behind her. “Miss Bowen,” said Xavier. “I would like to claim the next dance, if you’ll have me.”

She gaped up at him, still chewing her pastry. Luz spoke for her. “Vivian would love nothing more.”

Xavier nodded seriously. “I will find you when the next song begins.” He walked away again immediately.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Delilah growled. “I can’t wait for him to come to me.” She marched determinedly away in Caspian’s direction.

Vivian glared at Luz. “I did tell you I hate the man, didn’t I?”

Luz smirked. “Hate is such a strong word. Don’t let your little crush on that soldier distract you. Xavier is on the approved list.”

“He isn’t approved,” Vivian protested. “Wim said so himself. Besides, he has no interest in this bizarre courtship ritual we’re being marched through.”

“For someone with no interest in finding a wife, he’s found excuses to put himself in your path a lot since we arrived.”

Vivian was spared having to form a response by Xavier’s return. He held a hand out to her, and she took it in silence.

The Martian style of dancing involved joining the man’s left hand and the woman’s right in a feather-light clasp. On the opposite side, the man kept his hand below the woman’s arm, and she rested her hand on his shoulder. When the women had practiced the dance forms in their dormitory, Vivian had been relieved by the distance and formality of the formation.

Xavier looked down on her with no expression as he turned her in confident, precise movements around the dance floor. His hand held hers in a firmer grip than was customary between Martians and Earthers. Elsewhere on the dance floor, Vivian could see Delilah and Caspian spinning and talking earnestly. Her sister’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled.

When she could stand the silence no longer, Vivian asked, “Do you dance a lot?”

“No.”

After another excruciating pause, she addressed him a second time with, “It’s your turn to say something now, Mr. Dorsey. Reverend Adair has stuffed us full of Martian ballroom etiquette. I talked about the dance, and you ought to talk about something equally boring. I don’t know—the size of the room or the number of couples.”

He looked down at her with a smirk. “Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?”

“I’ve never been to a dance before tonight. We didn’t have balls in a refugee camp.”

“Of course,” Xavier said soberly. “Forgive the impertinent question.” He said nothing for a time and then forced out, “Did you and your sister enjoy exploring the barracks?”

“We did.” Unable to resist the temptation, she added, “When you saw us there the other day, we were making a new friend.”

Xavier scowled. “Silas Gatlin is very skilled at making friends. He’s not as good at retaining them.”

“He told me he lost your friendship. And an inheritance too.”

Xavier’s face returned to its polite neutral mask. “Let’s talk of other matters.”