Page 37 of Of Song and Scepter
I place her hand on my shoulder and tuck mine on the small of her back. The princess’s body is taller than mine, but it’s the only plan we have. “I’ll be the prince.” I demonstrate the rhythm with my feet, raising onto the ball of my foot, then dropping for the downbeat. “Now, we count to three. Down-up-up. Down-up-up.”
Odissa watches my feet with wide eyes, then attempts to mimic my movements. Her toes slam into mine, stubbing both of our toes. I grunt to keep from cursing her out. We try again. And again. Odissa stubs my toes two more times, then elbows me in the ribs. Her arms are stiff as rocks.
“You’re off beat, Odissa. Count to three as you move. If you’re not saying a number, don’t move your fucking foot.”
“Watch your tone with me, pet.”
I snarl, my temper flaring.
She peers down her thin, perfect nose. “I know how to count.”
“It’s just the feet we need to fix, then. And the stiff arms. And the lack of effortless, royal ease.”
“That’s a lot to track at once.”
“It’s like floating in a current. Let your body be swept away by the beat. You don’t force your body to follow rigidly. It’s a feeling.”
Her arms turn heavy and soft on my shoulders, sagging like reedgrass. This is impossible.
“We’re fucked.” Odissa will attend five of these fucking balls, dance like the unhinged death-dealer she is, and Tephra will have her dessert.
She growls, grabbing my shoulders and shoving me away. Her nails dig into my skin, scraping flesh. I stumble two steps back. “It’s too much to keep track of at once,” she snaps.
“Says the brain behind this fucked-up operation,” I mumble.
She huffs, throwing her hands in frustration. “Can’t you just puppeteer me through this shit with your Voice?”
I shake my head. “I’d have to be touching you, or my light will attract attention. That’s not going to go well in a ballroom. I can think of at least one royal who would notice if you had a clinger.”
Odissa sets her jaw, then lifts onto the balls of her feet. She counts to three, stumbling by the first number. “These damn legs don’t work for me.” She eyes my legs with searing envy. “I don’tknow how you do it. No gel. No flexibility. You’d think it’d be easier with only two appendages to control, but goddess, it’s not. I want my body back.”
I storm toward her, grabbing the thin material of her chemise. She needs a fucking reality check, and I’m about to give her one. “It’s rotting in Tephra’s big belly, and unless you’d like to join it, I suggest you focus.”
Somewhere behind her, the doorknob turns.
Odissa’s eyes light with flame. Her palm connects with my cheek, hard. I release her shirt as the pain registers. I’m suddenly back in my father’s ballroom, cradling my sore face as he leered at me.
Clio gasps, and the pink cloth in her hands slaps to the floor.
“Ah, there you are, Clio, darling.” Odissa’s face fixes into her perfect, wan smile. Clio bends slowly, retrieving the fabric without a word.
Chapter twenty-three
Enna
In the Abyss, thereis only darkness. When I was tired, I slept. When I felt rested, I stirred. When I killed, I counted each throat. Time seemed nonexistent there.
Here, it is a slow, plodding thing, and yet it is also fleeting. Fast. I wait for the sun to rise, for the tides to roll, for the moon to change—and then suddenly, Audrina has changed, under my careful watching. How long does it take for a small sliver of her face to fill in? How many sleeps? How many rises?
The prince does not offer another tour. In the days that follow, we hardly see him. Busy with kingdom concerns, he announces at dinner. He receives his meals in his rooms, too busy even for dinner with his mother and his betrothed. And there are only so many things Odissa can say to the queen over a plate of charred sweetfish.
After seven sleeps of nothing to do but slather myself with reedgrass to heal my sunburn, attempt to teach a death-dealer to dance, and repeatedly brush Odissa’s hair, I tire of the waiting.
“The goddess said he’s a slippery catch,” Odissa reminds me, running her fingers through her long, silk hair. “He’ll call on me soon.”
When I ask her again what happened in the gardens, she just smirks and says, “Oh, you know what happened, chum-brain.” But as the week progresses, she starts to look worried.
I take to wandering the palace at night, exploring every twisting inch of its marble guts. Maybe there’s a secret hidden here, some piece I’ve been missing.
