The Price {Completed}

Chapter Three

As I flew through the air, headed for a ground I couldn't see, I felt Ferdinand's hand grip my wrist and tangle in the veil. He couldn't stop me from falling entirely, but he slowed my decent to something that looked controlled. I managed to press my other hand beneath me to cushion my landing, and then rolled to my back and a stylized pose that I hoped hid the fact that this was not part of the ballet.

                It wasn't until I had my arm draped over my head and I faced down the length of the stage that I realized I was staring into the face of Ferdinand without the veil to shield my face. Panic coursed through my stomach as I saw that the veil had caught on his arm, and a violent churning in the pit of my being started until I thought that I would surely unleash whatever food I had consumed that morning onto the polished wood.

                Ferdinand, standing above me, wore only a pair of black pants and a lace mask over his eyes. For a moment he stared at me without moving, perhaps unsure of what to do just as I was, before he leaped into a high jump and landed on one knee by my side. His face dipped toward mine until his breath fluttered against my eyelashes and his hand slid across my waist. My breathing only came in jagged gasps but he eased me to my feet and soon we were back on choreography.

                A few more minutes and he lifted me over his head while I draped in anguish. He brought me to the grave, laying me across it as the music died to a single drum, creating a heartbeat that slowly died. The silence stretched for a moment before the thunderous applause. It startled me, the volume of it. General Masha stood, smiling and clapping and his companions soon joined him. Whistling and cheering filled the room until Ferdinand picked me up in his arms and carried me offstage. The corps girls took our place on stage, and Ferdinand set me on my feet at the base of the steps.

                We spent the next minute leaning up against anything that supported our weight and trying to make our lungs work again. I pressed up against a pillar, closing my eyes against the stinging sweat that dripped into them. I heard Ferdinand's ragged breath somewhere behind me. I sneaked a glance over my shoulder to see him bent over, his hands on his thighs, staring at the floorboards. His blonde hair caught the light, seeming to glow through the haze of exhaustion. He looked up, and I quickly looked away.

                While the music continued, I limped a few feet toward the backstage room. Before I got very far, a hand tapped me on the shoulder. Expecting Mr. Lennox, I turned with my apologies about the botched dance ready, but the words died on my lips when I saw Ferdinand Popov looming above me. With shoulders broad enough to block my view, and height that dwarfed my own, I felt like a child shrinking under the gaze of an adult.

                "Did you hurt yourself?" he asked.

                My mouth moved in silence before I cleared my throat. "It's fine," I replied.

                "You stumbled on stage for a reason, and I can see your favoring that leg," he said, swooping down to one knee before I could stop him. He felt my ankle, and I cringed when he pressed on it. He looked up, and I noticed for the first time that he had blue eyes under the lace mask. "You might have sprained it. And, at the least, it's a bruising that you shouldn't be walking on."

                "Really, I'm all right. I'll just sit down..." I waved my hand toward the backstage door.

                "Allow me." Getting to his feet, he scooped my legs up and supported my back until I was cradled against his chest and rocking with the movement of his steps. My eyes grew almost as wide as my gaping mouth and I was certain he felt my heart beating out a frantically.