Within the Walls [NEW VERSION]

Chapter 28

"We appreciate you taking the time to help us find our rhythm. No doubt, we will need it," Ruben says, shaking the man's hand.

"Of course! What with the wedding coming up?" He clasps his hands together. "You are going to be dancing the night away. The most beautiful couple."

The dance teacher then turns to the assembly of musicians in the corner of the ballroom and nods. I let out a sharp breath as the slow, deep bass of the cello thrums through my body. High notes pluck at my soul, and I meet Ruben's gaze.

"The most important thing to master is the near touch," the teacher says, wiping the bead of sweat dribbling down his temple. "It is how we develop tension and desire with our partners. Now, stand with your feet close to one another, and hold out your open hands. Move them towards each other."

We mirror one another, holding out our hands, and inching them closer until I can almost feel his fingers brushing against mine. Almost.

"Now stop!" the teacher barks, pursing his lips as his eager gaze flicks to me. "Keep your hands about an inch apart. Look into each other's eyes. Now circle one another."

Giggles bubble in my chest as we step around one another like lions. His breath fans my face and his lips sit slightly apart as his eyes roam my face. Then a smirk tugs across his cheeks as the teacher drones on about our wedding. I can't help but furrow my brow.

"What?" I whisper.

"Sorry, this is just really different from our constant arguing."

I arch a brow. "Would you prefer to practice dancing with someone else? Perhaps you'll be more comfortable, your Royal Highness."

He shakes his head and the sun shines on the freckles spattered across his nose. "I'm happy dancing with you, Elle."

"I think you'd prefer my father's jigs over this stiff, choreographed dance."

The teacher's arm slices between us like a wood chopper, breaking us apart. His beady eyes slide between us. "Are you ready to practice the dance in which you do touch?" The man salivates with anticipation and smears a dribble of drool from his chin. He puts his hands on his hips. "Or are we saving the touching for your wedding night?"

Ruben coughs and my face burns. "No!" I blurt out. "I mean, let's just dance."

Ruben rubs his temples. "I agree."

"Right." The teacher smacks his hands together. He then pushes me toward Ruben. "Put your hand on her waist. And hold her hand."

My skin burns at his touch and my stomach bursts into a forest fire as we spin and twirl around the room. The music grows into a colourful beast roaring in my ears.

"I realised I know little about your family," Ruben says, catching me off guard.

I school my face into neutrality. "Well, there's not much to say."

We twirl on the spot, and he leans me backward. "What happened to them?"

Bile fills my throat. "The king exiled them." I mouth the words.

"Why? What did they do?"

My jaw tightens at the peppering of questions. "It was my fault." The memories pummel my mind in agonising flashes, mixed in with the raw ones from last night. Arrows. Blood. The hanging man. "We were starving and desperate. I stole some fruit from a Tranq. My parents took the blame to protect me. End of story."

"I'm so sorry."

"My sister never knew." I stare out the window at the blue sky, silently apologising to her.

He grinds his teeth as we spin, and he flicks a hateful glare over my shoulder, to the doors as if the king stands on the other side. "He has a habit of exiling people who challenge him. Including my mother."

I almost stop dancing and swallow the gasp. "Oh, my gods. I thought died of pneumonia."

Ruben blinks, shoving back the tears. "That is the story I tell myself... and others. The easier, more palatable story. The truth is, she... tried to help the Convex people. She wanted to heal and blight and resolve the famine." He runs a finger over his lip. "But such a peaceful world would mean the king loses his power. His control. Can't have that. I was only eight. And up until then, my father had always shown my mother love. Kissed her behind closed doors. Giggled with her at the dinner table and late at night. He did love her. Protected her from the cruelty of her father. But in the end, he loved power more."

I shake my head, fumbling over my tongue. "He murdered your mother."

He loosens a taut, raggedy breath. "Had you not wondered where she might be in all of this?"

I cannot tear my gaze from his. And my heart tears anew, crumbling at the thought of Ruben as a child without a mother. A lost, lonely little boy with only a hateful, miserable drunk of a father whose interests were elsewhere.

That's when I realise, he and I aren't all that different.

The dance teacher slices his arm between us again, splitting us apart. "Let's pick this up next lesson. Your miserable energy is depressing me." He pinches the bridge of his nose, and gestures for the door.

We slink out of the ballroom, twisting into a deserted hallway. "Elle," he says, touching my wrist.

I whirl around. "What is it?"

"I want to know what is going on?" he says, voice low and husky. "Something is going on."

"What is it?" I say again.

Suddenly I realise it's only the wall behind me, and he is inches from me. His face is right there. Lips right there. A heat sears through me as every instinct tells me to do it. But fear jumps down my throat.

"Um, I have to knife train," I say and side-step him.

His gaze burns into me as I hasten away, and around another corner. I keep walking, past my bedroom, turning into various hallways, losing myself and all sense of direction in the maze of the palace, letting my quickened footsteps match my racing heartbeat.

"They're dying like flies," a voice in the room I just passed catches my attention.

I draw to a halt. My pulse booms and I clench my fists as if they might hear me, like a predator sensing its prey before it sees it.

"There are too many bodies filling the mass graves, Your Majesty," another voice says, haughty and obnoxious, making my skin crawl. "I fear the population will start to decline if we keep this up."

"I fear so much, too," King Talin says, voice gruff and my heart sinks. "But I have an idea. They have begun to act like there is nothing left to lose. An oversight on our part, letting the famine get... this bad. Utter desperation makes animals out of people. They will continue like this and, well, gentlemen, I would be lying to you if I didn't say that the throne would be at risk. After all, there are more Convex than there are us. But it doesn't matter. Insects are no match for the tread of a lion. They'll only get squashed."

But who eats the lion when it's dead, Your Majesty? I want to scream the question at him. And I want to run my blade across his throat.

King Talin's hiss digs into the marrow of my bones. "We need to give the Convex hope."

A pause. Someone shifts their chair. "Hope?"

"Yes. Just a sprinkle of hope to hinder their rebellious energy." There is another pause and the clink of glasses. I pin myself tighter against the wall as if they can see around the corner. Part of me wouldn't be surprised if King Talin could somehow detect the pitter-patter of my heart. "We give them an incentive. Those who report any suspected rebel activity to the Tranquillity will receive a week's worth of fresh food from the Concave supply chain."

"And turn them against each other?"

The king lets out a dry chuckle. "Precisely. Pit their desperation against one another."