Page 61 of To Dance with Death

I crisscross my feather-light ropes, and the flame catches, spreading from one to the other. Anton starts to back away to allow me the space to perform, but I swish one firelit sash near him, like the lash of a whip.

A warning.

No, Majesty. You will not be an idle observer tonight.

He freezes in place.

I walk a circle around him, the flame-fringed gossamer trailing in my path. He follows me, shifting to face me like a deer unafraid of a hunter’s bow. With one hand, I swing the gossamer high, spiraling it above us. This dance is not unlike the one from the other night, where I taught myself how to play with the fabric on the spot. After more practice now, I keep the strands in the air with ease. A lift here, a push there—

I whirl him around, curl into the nook of his arm.

I slant his chin toward mine—

“Have dinner with me again,” he breathes.

With my other hand, I guide his free one to my waist. “My time is not free, Sire.”

A gamble, but one I’m now confident I’ll win.

“Name your price.”

Another flick, and twin ribbons of flame coil and twist as if they were living things. Like serpents, spiraling around our orbit. “You said you can’t help me in the Abyssal,” I say, linking his arms with mine, “but you can certainly answer questions about this place, can you not?”

“Depends,” he says, swinging me around—taking charge of the dance in a way that weakens my knees.

It takes everything in me to concentrate. To keep the breath in my lungs, when he pulls my hips toward his. “Are there codices elsewhere in the palace? Besides the Abyssal?”

“Aside from the ones I borrow for the appeals, no.”

The ones in his study. But I hadn’t seen any names I recognized. Defeat tempts my spine into a slump, but I force it rigid again, stepping away and around his back. “What about children? Where are their souls? I’ve yet to see one.”

After Sundar mentioned it, I realized he was right. I haven’t seen any children here, nor have we seen any codices that are shorter in length.

“Children are the most innocent among us,” he says, spinning to face me, only I breeze away. “Moranya keeps them safe.”

“How? Where?” Dizziness rushes in, my heart pounding faster than it should.

“That,” he says, linking our arms, “is not for you to know.”

I tuck away the information, vague as it is, and slip from his grip. I throw a heel in front of his foot and whirl in front of him. “You are very protective of her. Moranya.”

“You forget,” he breathes, his eyes flashing in the firelight, “that it is Moranya who formed this realm—the one that preserves our souls past death. Were it not for her, we would flicker from existence after our short and meaningless lives. So yes, one could say I am protective—and grateful.”

Anger snarls in my stomach. I steal a strand, use it to spur him into a turn. “Do you long for her, Anton?” A pit plunges into my stomach at the mere mention, but I saw the strange pull she had on him, the way he leaned into her touch before he struck that deal with her. I have to know.

He surprises me, though, when he nabs the other rope of gossamer and uses it like a lasso around my waist. “I long for many things, dancer, but Moranya is not one of them.”

I want and wish for many things I cannot have,he said once.

I heave a breath, then two. “Then what is she to you, exactly?”

“An ally,” he says simply.

And then he’s the one guidingme.Twisting me, turning me, and I’m so surprised that I am pliant to his command, my body responding to his as if it were made to.

He told me once that he took dancing lessons, and I feel it in the way he moves, the way he knows where to put his hands. He’s gentle—far gentler than Copelan ever was, and far more playful. It’s almost as if he’s teasing me like a cat with a mouse, just to see how I might react.

“Have you reconsidered my offer?” he asks, nudging his nose against my earlobe.