Bride Of The Beast

Dance training

The walk back from the library felt longer than it should have. I was nearly at the turn for my quarters when I saw Kiya. She was standing by one of the narrow windows, her hands folded in front of her. She looked peaceful, just watching the sun.

I tried to keep my pace steady, but she turned and offered a small, warm smile before I could pass.

"Oh, you were still at the library?" she said. Her voice was soft, almost kind. I stopped a few feet away, keeping my hands hidden in my skirts.

"It’s a beautiful room, isn't it?" she asked, stepping away from the window. She moved toward me with a slow, easy grace. I nodded, not sure where she was going with this.

"Eilís belongs to these mountains, you know," she said, her tone still light, like she was sharing a fond memory. "He’s part of the pack, part of the cold. It’s in his blood. That’s why we worry about him so much."

She reached out then. The movement was so natural I didn't have time to pull back. She ran her fingers through a stray lock of my hair, smoothing it down.

"You have such pretty hair, Raven," she murmured. "It’s so soft. But a human girl... you’re a temporary fix for him, aren't you? Something to keep the edges from fraying until the Moon Goddess decides he’s suffered enough."

I felt my stomach drop. I forced myself to stand perfectly still, my jaw locked so I wouldn't flinch. Her fingers were ice-cold against my neck, right near the mark.

“What—”

“Don't get me wrong,” she cut me off. “I don't think you're bad for him, I just think it's a pity for you to spend your life never really meaning anything to Eilis. It's a waste.” She sighed.

"It really is a lovely color," she said, letting the hair slip through her fingers. She patted my shoulder lightly, the way a friend might. "But it won't keep you warm when the real winter hits. And it won't change what he is."

She stepped back with a polite little nod. "You should get some rest." She didn't wait for me to answer. She just turned and walked down the hall, her footsteps light and rhythmic.

I stood there in the middle of the corridor, my skin crawling where she’d touched me. Why couldn't I just get a normal day? I had no idea if she was threatening me, advising me, or just commenting. It wouldn't be the first time someone indirectly threatened me, though.

****

I got to my quarters and slept off, sometime later I came awake with the sound of someone moving in the living room.

When I went there to check, Calani was already seated, a ball gown laid out beside her.

“What now?” I asked.

“Well, if you've been catching up to the ways of the royal wolves, you'd know a ball is being thrown in honor of the family visiting.”

“Okay, but why do you look stressed?” Her eyes looked pale and droopy.

“What!” I shouted. Calani winced like I’d physically struck her. “We both know I can’t dance, Calani. I have the grace of a newborn giraffe on ice.”

“But you have to.”

“The last two times a ball was thrown, I didn’t dance. I sat in the corner and ate appetizers while trying to avoid the leering nobles. It was a perfect system.”

“That was because Eilis didn't ask you and you weren't required to,” she snapped, her eyes looking even more droopy and stressed. “But this is a ‘Family Unity’ ball. It’s specifically for the visitors. If the Prince’s mate is the only one sitting out while the music is playing, it looks like a snub. And Denis... Denis practically demanded it.”

“Who are you attending, Denis or me?”

“Raven…”

“Did you tell him I can’t dance?”

“No!” she barked. “How would I explain that? ‘Oh, sorry, Lady Raven Dearna of the North never learned the waltz because she was too busy being a boy’? You’re supposed to be a noble lady, Raven.”

“Oh, Gods.” I threw my hands up and started pacing the length of the rug. “I’m going to be a public scandal. I’m going to trip on my hem, take out a waiter, and headbutt a Duchess. It’ll be a bloodbath.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Calani said, though she didn’t look convinced.

“Am I? I once tried to skip in the garden and nearly broke my nose, you were there. Now you want me to do it in front of the entire Royal Court while wearing three layers of silk and a corset that’s currently cutting off my oxygen?” I stopped and looked at her, horrified. “What if Eilis tries to lift me? I’ll kick him in the face. I’ll accidentally assassinate the Prince on the dance floor.”

“Just... try not to lead,” Calani sighed, rubbing her temples. “And for the love of the Moon Goddess, try to look like you’re enjoying it instead of marching to your execution or maybe we should do a little dancing exercise.” She smiled.

———

"One, two, three. One, two—Raven, for the love of the gods, stop looking at your feet!"

"If I don't look at them, I won't know where they're going," I snapped, nearly tripping over the rug for the fourth time.

Calani sighed, dropping her hands in defeat. We had been 'practicing' in the center of my sitting room for twenty minutes, and so far, I had managed to kick her shins twice and almost rip the lace off her sleeve. My brain was a mess of counting and panic, and my legs felt like they belonged to two different people who weren't on speaking terms.

"You're marching," she said, looking horrified. "You aren't going to war, Raven. You’re supposed to be floating. Think of a swan."

"A swan that's been shot in the wing?" I suggested, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. "Or maybe a drunk duck? Because that’s the best I can offer on short notice."

"It’s a waltz, not a mountain climb," she groaned, grabbing my waist to reset me. "Just follow my lead. Don't think, just move."

"That’s how people get hurt," I muttered.

We tried again. I focused on the rhythm she was humming, trying to make my heavy boots feel like silk slippers. For three glorious seconds, I actually felt like I was doing it. I was turning, I was gliding, I was—

CRACK.

I stepped squarely on Calani’s toe. She let out a muffled shriek and hopped back, clutching her foot.

"I told you!" I threw my hands up. "I’m a public safety hazard. If I do that to Eilís in front of the nobles, he’s going to have to exile me just to save his reputation."

"You're just... tense," Calani gasped, her face twisted in pain. "You're holding your breath like you're underwater. If you pass out on the dance floor, it’ll be even worse."

"At least if I'm unconscious, I can't step on anyone," I countered. "Maybe that should be the plan. You just tell everyone I have 'fainting spells' and carry me out before the music starts.”

“Calani, please,” I groaned, watching her limp back into position. “Can’t we just tell them I have a highly contagious foot fungus? Or a sudden, unexplained paralysis from the waist down?”

“Raven, shut up and dance,” she snapped, grabbing my hands again. Her grip was like a vice. “If you don’t learn how to spin without looking like a malfunctioning windmill, I’m going to tell Denis you’re doing this on purpose.”

“That’s low,” I muttered, but I let her yank me back into the rhythm.

One, two, three. One, two—oops.

“That was my toe again,” she whispered through gritted teeth.

“It moved! It got in the way!”

“Toes generally stay attached to the feet, Raven. They don't ‘move’ out of spite.” She stopped and looked at me, her expression shifting from annoyance to genuine pity. “Look, just... don’t try to be graceful. Just try to stay upright. If you start to fall, grab onto the princes’ shoulders and pray he catches you.”

“He’s a werewolf, Calani. He could catch a falling piano,” I reminded her, the image of Eilís catching me mid-tumble flashing through my mind. “But catching me is one thing. Catching me while I’m accidentally headbutting his chest is another.”

I slumped into a chair, the heavy fabric of my skirts pooling around me like a trap. “I’m going to be the only person in history to be executed for crimes against choreography.”

“You’re not going to be executed,” she said, finally giving up on the practice and heading toward the wardrobe.

I stared at the dress hanging on the door. It was beautiful—shimmering silk that looked like moonlight trapped in fabric.

“Fine,” I sig

hed, standing up with all the enthusiasm of a bride walking into a marriage with a man she hated.