The Archshade

Twenty

My mouth falls open, but no sound comes from my lips.

"Yes," the Blue Bird Lady burbles quietly. "With a mere touch, those who are intended to die, do not." She snaps her dainty fingers for emphasis.

The green one nods in agreement. "Our honored Archshade is in league with an unknown evil. He must be!"

"Hardly!" the red one scoffs. "I heard the late Queen was just as beset with occult tricks. She was a Northerner, you know."

"Occult indeed," the blue cuts in again. "Eats him away like a sickness. A debt to death—or so the rumors say." She turns to me, shielding the side of her mouth with a delicate hand. "Even the Emperor of Aaru-Sheol fears the Archshade."

A million questions swarm in my head, but I struggle to grasp a single one and press the three bird ladies further. The massive hall suddenly feels too tight to breathe in. The whir of voices echoing off the stone walls turns to a dull buzzing in my ears as my eyes glaze over, no longer seeing the ballroom around me. In my mind, I replay all of the moments I've shared with Daynar, sifting through the evidence, trying to piece it together.

"Pardon the interruption."

An imposing shadow falls over me. Looking over my shoulder, a black shadow stands still in the whirl of merriment as if summoned by just the thought of his name. His green glass eyes are calm beneath his gold mask, and his face wrappings are tightly secured—no gaps in the bindings.

"My lady, may I have this dance?" Daynar offers his hand to me, his eyes glimmering with practiced charm.

"I... uh..."

An unexpected warmth rises in my veins, and I cast a glance at the three bird ladies. Their giggles have fallen silent as they peer at the Archshade from behind feathered fans which have suddenly appeared in their hands. Each one eyes the prince's impressive figure with unabashed scrutiny. I look back at Daynar.

"Um... of course." I take his hand and rise to my feet. The soft leather of his glove brushing against my skin.

Mimicking the behavior of a noble lady, I turn to the three bird women and excuse myself. They fall into a fit of hushed chattering as the Archshade leads me away from the table to the edge of the dance floor. Without saying a word, he pauses to bow politely.

"Oh... yes. Sorry." Graceless and unsteady, I bend at the knees and fan my skirts in a ladylike curtsy. Though I feel like a fool, Prince Daynar takes my hand in his again, delicately holding my fingers as if they are a sunbird perched on the edge of his palm. He guides my other hand to his shoulder, and lightly drifts his own palm to my waist.

Before I can protest, Daynar begins gracefully turning, stepping forwards and backwards in a swaying rhythm with the music. The connection of his hold guides my feet in step with him, pulling us toward each other, leaving no space between. By a slight tug of his arm or a lean of his shoulder, I feel his movements, the tension in his motions. Instead of merely following his step, I know exactly where he's going, exactly what he's thinking.

We float into the small sea of swaying skirts and clicking boots. All around us, well-heeled nobles twirl and step together. The music swells, mixing with the laughter and the pleasant chatter of the boisterous celebration.

"I... I did not know you could dance," Daynar remarks quietly.

I laugh beneath my breath. "I can't."

His eyes respond with a smile as he guides me through a slow spin. "I apologize for leaving you alone so long," he says, "but you seem to have acquired some new acquaintances in my absence."