Page 10 of Blood Slumberm

She had no right to possess such a delightful laugh. Troi scowled. “I am not scandalized, merely surprised. We always maintained rigid decorum during dances.” He smirked at her. “It was part of the chase. Pushing the boundaries of what the dance would allow was a skill, and after the ball, the private dances in the dark were the reward.”

Faint color rose along her sharp cheekbones. “Do not push any boundaries at Rixor’s ball—or tonight during our lesson. This isn’t a chase. It is a matter of life and death.”

“Seduction always is,” he found himself saying.

“Ha. I suppose so, according to your ancestor who killed my ancestor’s husband. But I don’t need Prince Troilus’s arts of seduction. I need Firstblood Troilos’s power.”

She commenced the dance, proceeding around him with graceful sweeps of her feet. He followed her lead, circling with her, their hands touching and bodies half-turned toward one another.

“Hear the music in your mind.” She began to count the beats under her breath. “One, two, three, four…”

“I doubt mages of Chera do the Widow’s Weave after dusk rites. When was the last time you danced?”

“More recently than you.” She spun in place and motioned for him to do the same.

“Fair enough.” He mimicked her, then brought his opposite palm to hers, and they repeated the steps in the other direction. “How long has Rixor been sitting on your throne?”

“Ten years,” she spat.

A decade was plenty of time for a grudge to turn into madness. Troi knew that from experience. “How old are you?”

“Your sleep has rusted your manners. It’s uncouth to ask a lady her age.” She danced backward, leaving his palm cold, and beckoned to him.

He pursued her. “I am one hundred forty years old. I promise that no matter your age, you will seem like a spring maiden to me.”

“I was a twenty-four-year-old widow when Rixor stripped me of my power. Now I will teach him never to underestimate a thirty-four-year-old mage.”

“He would be a fool to do so. It is not the spring maidens but the autumn matriarchs a man should watch out for. And don’t let me start on the winter crones. They’re the most terrifying of all.”

Amusement glinted in her gaze as she positioned them for another turn. This time she placed his hand on her waist.

She hadn’t eaten well in the last ten years. He cupped her slim waist, circling with her again, while she held her hand in front of her face as if wielding a fan in a gesture of mock modesty.

He was beginning to understand the story this dance told. It too was a chase, and he could learn to push her boundaries.

She looked him up and down. “How can you be one hundred forty? You look like you were younger than me at your transformation.”

“I was thirty, then I spent ten years as a Hesperine before my hundred-year slumber.”

A frown creased her brow. “That’s not what the legends say.”

“Do tell me the stories of my ‘curse.’ Are they very terrible?”

“Tragic, gruesome, and unfit for the ears of delicate ladies.”

“Well, we have established you are no delicate lady. Go on.”

“The tales say the women of your line were secretly heretics, worshipers of Hespera who practiced her dark arts, but you wanted nothing to do with the forbidden goddess. When your father died and you inherited your principality, you held a coronation feast at Summer Solstice. You invited a representative from each of the Mage Orders but refused to set a place for a sorceress of Hespera to attend in disguise.”

They turned in place once more, and she guided his other hand to her waist. He held her a little tighter this time.

She extended her hand, palm toward his chest, nearly touching. “In revenge, the sorceress turned you into a Hesperine, dooming you to serve Hespera for all eternity. The guests fled in terror—there are conflicted reports on howmany you ate before they escaped—but the mage of Anthros in attendance bravely fought you. Although you proved too powerful for him to slay, he banished you into a one-hundred-year sleep that would drain your power. He swore that his successors would come for you and…” She paused.

“Oh, do tell me what torture they’ve been dreaming up all these years. It had better be worthy of my fearsome reputation.”

“They plan to sacrifice you to Anthros on the Summer Solstice.” She gave him a push.

It was his turn to dance away from her. “One of those ostentatious affairs at the Temple of Anthros? Immolation on the altar?”

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