As usual, Ari was right, Sastra did not want to watch Kivan dance the Atellia with Daile. It started harmlessly enough, as the couples circled one another, shoulder to shoulder. But the steps wove further apart then closer and closer each time, so that her hip overlapped his and shoulder overlapped shoulder. Daile lifted her hand, holding it Kivan’s cheek as they spun, gaze locked intently upon one another. As though the sky might catch fire between them. Flushed, Ari turned away from the dancing, pulling at the neckline of her robe in hope of easing the sudden rush of heat through her body. Because it mingled with jealousy and left her feeling sick.
Ari had the good grace, not to say that she’d told her so. Why was it so difficult to watching him dancing with another woman? They weren’t
