Page 180 of She Who Devours the Stars
I shrugged. “Only when it’s funny.”
He snapped his fingers, and the music doubled in speed. “Show me.”
I did.
I wasn’t a good dancer, not by any stretch, but the narrative lets me cheat. I leaned into it, letting the field push and pull me, letting the gravity tricks bleed into my movements. I kicked off a wall, flipped backwards, landed, and watched as the crowd lost its collective mind. Someone sprayed soda in the air. Perc shrieked, “NULLARCH DANCE-OFF! NULLARCH DANCE-OFF!” and the whole mess joined in.
Dyris watched from the edge, smiling that tiny, mean smile that meant she was genuinely impressed.
I turned, stuck my tongue out at her, and finished the set with a jump that landed me at her feet.
She extended a hand, helped me up.
I caught my breath. “You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?”
“Never,” she said, and kissed me, hard, right in front of everyone.
I let her. I wanted to.
When we broke, the crowd roared. Someone threw confetti. I caught a piece on my tongue and swallowed it.
Vireleth, voice booming over the speakers, declared: “NULLARCH DANCE-OFF: FERN WINS. PLEASE REFRAIN FROM MAKING OUT ON THE DANCE FLOOR.”
Perc screamed, “ONE OF US! ONE OF US!” and the chant caught on.
I let myself laugh, really laugh, for the first time in forever.
It felt good.
It didn’t take long for the energy to spiral.
Perc, emboldened by the crowd’s adoration (and a direct power tap from the Myth-Oven), was now doing slow laps of the dance floor, servo arm outstretched to deliver “liberation espresso shots” to anyone who dared meet his gaze. I watched, cackling, as he hunted his next victim, a shy, stubble-jawed security intern who tried, really tried, to avoid him, only to be ensnared and doused in foam before the next beat dropped.
Dyris pulled me back into the party, her fingers laced through mine with a grip that said “You leave, I break you.” The thought was hot. I liked it.
“Round two?” she asked, nodding at the mess.
I grinned, wiped a streak of cheese from her jaw, and flicked it at the wall. “Only if you’re not going to embarrass me again.”
She laughed, a sound that started deep and never made it past the lips. “You’re impossible.”
“You made me this way,” I countered, and meant it.
A flash of red caught my eye: Aenna. She stood at the edge of the floor. She looked like she wanted to run but didn’t know whereto go. I watched her watch me. The way her mythprint jittered every time our eyes met was almost criminal.
“Hang on,” I said to Dyris, and slipped free.
I stalked toward Aenna, slow, letting her see it coming. Each step seemed to make her mythprint brighter. By the time I reached her, she was vibrating.
“You’re allowed to join, you know,” I said. “It’s not a closed set.”
She stared at me, lips parted, glasses fogged. “I thought you hated attention.”
I leaned in. “Not from you.”
She froze, completely, so I did the only thing that made sense: grabbed her by the waist, dipped her like we were in a holo-drama, and kissed her right on the mouth. She didn’t resist. She didn’t do anything, actually, except squeak and then hang limp in my arms, her entire body shorting out like a circuit that couldn’t handle the surge.
When I pulled away, her glasses were crooked, her mythprint strobing, and her face was a shade of red not found in nature.
