Page 95 of A Dance of Lies

Esmée was Copelan’s partner. Then, nine years ago, at the Gathering, she captured Illian’s eye. Illian, not Anton, like I had assumed. And Illian took her away, took her for himself, and Copelan never saw her again.

Until now.

But no one could enter the isle once the Gathering had begun unless all the crowns agreed. How had they managed?

“Esmée,” Copelan breathes. He says her name like it’s the answer to a long, unanswered prayer. “How, why—”

“I heard what a show you’ve been putting on,” Esmée says, her dimples deepening.

“I admit I had hoped to make a reunion of this,” says Princess Aesir. “I was younger, then, barely seventeen, but I so adored the way you two performed together.” She lets out a breathy sigh, throwing her hands against her heart. “Like fated doves. And itseems I was not the only one to feel this way, because when I proposed the idea to the other courts, they agreed she would be an honored guest.”

Then she pivots a glance my way, mouth curling. Copelan follows it, then scrubs a hand over his face. He mutters a quick introduction: her name, my name. Esmée doesn’t recognize me. She wouldn’t; we only danced together at the Melune for a few weeks, and even then, I had been in the background.

I wonder where she’s been in the years since. She tips her head in greeting, and though her gaze isn’t unkind, I feel small enough to sink through the cracks in the walkway.

They talk. She tells him about the job she took in Brisendale in a boutique theater near Kurst, the capital, and all the while I stand there, awkwardly, trying not to read their expressions. But I can’t help it. They look at each other like they were lovers. Like they were ripped apart, and now, all their feelings have slipped back through time.

I sense the princess’s gaze once more. Then she claps once, loudly, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Oh, I have the most fabulous idea. Why don’t you two perform together for us? My, what a treat that would be after all this time!”

Esmée bites back a smile, but Copelan does not. His cheeks spread, but then he shakes his head and scrubs his hair. Meanwhile the princess ticks off her ideas.

I stop listening, watching Princess Aesir.

I tell myself she couldn’t have planned this for me, but then I remember the time I’d seen her sitting with Illian that night, talking for hours. I’ve found them together several times since, both watching me whenever I stepped in the room. Then, after the Razami dance where Copelan kissed me, she’d pulled him away.So then, if you’re not lovers,she’d said,that means you’re free for the taking, no?

It’s as if she tried to lure him from my side. And when she failed to keep his attention, she found the one person who could. Shethen convinced all the other courts to break the rules and let that person in.

It would almost be extraordinary if it did not send shivers up my spine.

You can keep your pup for now, if you manage to hang on to him.

Somehow, Illian knew where to find Esmée and must have had the princess collect her.

If only she had been his Jewel instead.

After dinner, where I barely managed to keep down a slice of cheese and a sliver of bread, I take a walk. My mind is spinning out of control like a runaway wheel. Nothing adds up. What does Illian want? Why does he waste his time with trivial matters such as Esmée? All he has to do is order me to avoid Copelan and I would have to listen. So why go to the trouble?

Why care so much about whatIdo, when I have no choice but to obey him?

Then I recall the girl he had dressed like me, what he did to her in the night.

His tongue, tasting her flesh.

My name, a prayer on his lips.

The image is imprinted onto my memory with the permanence of a stain.

I shake my head and press on. I still need inspiration. I could still be kicked from the Gathering if I don’t play my part, as meaningless as performing seems right now.

I enter the Dome Hall and slip onto the veranda. I sit, squeezing my legs between the balusters, allowing my feet to dangle in the air. Rainfall drapes over the ocean in the distance, a few flashes of light contouring the clouds. I watch it, letting the wind pull curls from my braid. Below, commotion bustles about a pavilion, but I’m so high above it, I can’t hear.

So I focus my thoughts, leafing through what I know of Serai:mellow mountains; dry, cracked earth. Big walls. Ahead of me, the sun inches through the clouds and mist, and threads of color light the sky in a brilliant arc. I breathe out.

Color.Why hadn’t I thought of it before? Emilia once told me that it was Serain artists who first designated the significance of color and its meanings, and even now, creators from around the world strive to mimic the vibrancy and elegance of their palettes.

An idea knits itself together in my mind as I study the rainbow before me, memorizing which color laps over the next. I think of what I can sew, the dyes I can use. I think of their fashion, the way they bespeak rank and emotion. While the Sovereign Lord’s robes were dark, void of color, his court is swathed in vibrant hues—rouge draped in orange and gold for energy and stimulation, blue scalloped with violet and emerald for peace and harmony. Carefully selected analogous hues, paired together with purpose and a discerning eye.

I leap up. I have to find Copelan. It’s a stretch, but if we start right away, we might manage. It’s the perfect idea to follow last week. Not too risky, nothing risqué. It’ll be eloquent, soft. I hasten back inside.