by Deiri Di
Chase pushed his hand against hers, and she didn't resist.
"No," he said again. "The tension needs to be in your arm. Resist my pressure but don't fight it."
He pushed against her hand again.
"Better!" the instructor said. "But lift your elbow and give a little more pressure. You must remember that the leader can't give you signals if you are a limp pile of mush. He needs something to push against, to direct."
Chase increased the pressure on her hand and then stepped forward. With her elbow stiff, his touch forced her to take a step backward.
"Wrong foot!" the instructor said. "Try again."
Mari realized that she was expected to do the steps she just learned, but only once Chase directed her into them. When the tension between them increased, she was ready.
When they came to the step that she had to make at a backward turn, Chase put pressure on her waist, guiding her into it.
"Good," the instructor said. "Let's practice that one, extend it until you can make it through a full song, and then move onto another dance."
The instructor wiggled his fingers, and the accompanying tingle ran down her spine. A lilting song began to play, coming from nowhere but filling the whole room with an unimposing sound. To Mari, it sounded empty and missing something, as if there was a ghost band playing instead of a real one.
Mari and Chase began to practice the dance, and soon she was able to repeat the basic step over and over without any breaks in between, allowing Chase to take her across the room. Once they completed a round without Mari tripping over her feet, the instructor taught her a few more steps, and she now had to learn how to follow Chase's guidance into a turn and then flow seamlessly back into the basic steps.
The first time she tried, she got confused, missing Chase's signal, and instead turned in the wrong direction, tripping over his foot. She stumbled, grabbing Chase's shoulder and falling into him in an attempt to keep upright.
He winced.
The expression interrupted Mari's self-deprecating laughter, and she took a closer look at him, seeing what she missed earlier in the hallways. On Chase's shoulder, where she'd grabbed, the brown cotton fabric remained pressed against him, as if it was caught there by something sticky on his skin. A thin damp line was starting to appear in the middle.
"Are you alright?" Mari asked, pointing to his shoulder.
"I'm fine," Chase said, his tone curt. He seized her hand again and forced her back into the dance steps.
"But it looks like-" she started to say, pleased to find that she could now dance and talk at the same time.
"Focus," he said, twisting his hand on her waist, pushing her into one of the additional flair steps she just learned. He lifted the arm that was holding her hand, and she passed under it, a little turn that this time was performed without mishap.
"Excellent!" the instructor said. "Let's try it at a normal speed now, shall we?"
The music sped up.
"I really think that there is something wrong," Mari demanded, determined to get Chase's attention. The wet line on his shoulder was spreading, and it was starting to look quite red. What if he had gotten injured getting her out of the water?
Chase tightened his arm around her back, closing the small distance between their bodies until there was nothing left. Mari stumbled, forgetting her footwork and her concern with the sudden invasion of her personal space. Chase was a bit taller than she was, like all of the elves, and her eyes were level with his chest.
It was easier dancing this close. Whenever she made a misstep, it was stopped before it even began. When he pushed her away to turn, it was obvious where she was supposed to go and how fast. When he pulled her back in, she could feel the warmth of his body against hers - she could feel the play of his muscles as he moved. She felt connected.
It didn't smell like empty flowers or sweet nothings, and since she hadn't felt a tingle in her spine, she knew the smell wasn't magical. He had that rich scent that accompanies a good steak dinner or loaf of homemade bread.
Her head began to ache, but she ignored it. She was having too much fun. Besides, she only enjoyed being close to Chase because it taught her exactly how she would dance with the Prince. She didn't like him at all - just because he started to explain things didn't mean he had apologized for his earlier mean comments. Those rationalizations made the ache go away.
"I don't suppose there is a computer anywhere," Mari mused. "It would be a faster way to learn about the creatures here instead of reading book after book."
"Computers are those boxes that humans are using now, right? What do they have to do with my world?" he responded, frowning at her.
Mari glared and tried to pull away, tired of his mercurial attitude. Chase's arm tightened around her back, keeping her dancing with him. His lips pressed together, and his jaw clenched as he stared over her head at the dance studio.
"I'm betting that someone with the knowledge has created a page on the Internet covering your world," She said, adding a little bite to her words. If he was going to be snarky, then there was no reason she had to be polite back. "If there were easy ways to ward off some of those nastier creatures than just chopping them up, it would be a nice thing to know."
"Internet?" There was a gleam in Chase's eye that almost made her forget his unsteady temperament and the feeling of his body against hers.
"It is a... well... it's a place where humans share knowledge and other things. It is like a giant library that anyone can contribute to with little effort or fact-checking."
"That is a strange concept," he said, the frown vanishing. "It would take a great work of magic to achieve the same thing here." There was an eager look on his face. She could tell he wanted to hear more.
Mari laughed. "It is strange if you haven't grown up with it. My dad sometimes has difficulty using it, and I have to sit down with him and walk him through step by step." She grinned up at him. "You should come to visit, and I'll let you play around on my computer - I bet you would love it."
Chase looked down at her, his expression unreadable.
The music stopped.
"Enough! You've got this one. Time to move on," the instructor interrupted.
Mari started to step back away from Chase. She felt him tense, and for the briefest moment, his arm again prevented her from moving.
He let go and stepped back.
She looked at him, and he looked away, scowling at the wall.
He was so weird. Mari sighed and crossed her arms.
"What are you doing, Chase?" the instructor asked, trundling over to them. The scowl was wiped away by a quick flash of guilt, followed by panic.
"I'm not do-"
"You're bleeding through one of your bandages. I cannot have anything as staining as blood get on my wood, so take your shirt off right this instant," The instructor finished, pulling a padded coil out of one of his pockets. "If you're coming here right after being punished, then make sure you use a thick enough one so that you don't bleed through."
Chase took the proffered roll of bandage. "I'll be right back," he said, dashing out of the room.
"Why do you have bandages in your pocket?" Mari asked, irritable, confused, and worried about Chase. "Do lots of people end up bleeding in your class?"
"No, you stupid girl," the instructor said, patting both his hands on top of his belly. "The royal family is always sending Chase to his lessons worse for wear."
"What was he punished for?" Mari asked the instructor. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach.
The instructor laughed. "He is your bodyguard. Shouldn't you know?" he asked.
When she first met him, she would have been happy to see him scolded, but after their talk in the garden, she didn't feel that strongly anymore. Getting her irritation off her chest helped a lot. In fact, she wasn't even sure she disliked him; she didn't know how she felt about him, but she knew she didn't want him to get hurt.
"Well, I bet that he told you something he should ha
ve kept to himself," the instructor mused. "That's the only thing I can think of. You're the only thing he could get punished for right now - his other responsibilities were taken away when you showed up."
Mari pressed her hand to her mouth, horrified. He'd told her about the engagement. He let her know what was going on between Vladmir and Lady Silvia, and he was punished for it. How could Vlad - her thought was cut off as her hand dropped down to her necklace on its own accord. As her fingers wrapped around the pearlescent material, her horror and dismay were shoveled to the side and locked behind a deluge of praise for Vladmir.
It couldn't be what she was thinking. Vladmir would never hurt his brother for something like that. Chase must have done something horribly wrong.
Chase came back into the room.
"Let's continue," he said as he entered, not looking at Mari. "We can't have her looking like the fool she is."
Maybe she didn't feel that bad about him being hurt after all.
[ 8 ]
When the brownies brought her gown for the ball, Mari at first thought they couldn't have chosen better. The dress was a deep, rich red, the color of dried blood. She stood, looking at herself in the mirror. The dress hugged her hips, making their curves seem voluptuous and attractive instead of the one part of her body that she wished she'd inherited from her father instead of her mother. The neckline dipped, far enough so that it led the eye down and exposed the silver chain of her necklace. The present from Vladmir tucked nicely away out of sight.
As she stood there, the brownies buckled a woven black leather belt around her waist. It curved down in the front, creating a v that rested right along her hip bones. Several strands of thin leather strips broke free from the braided belt along the edges, hanging down the skirt of the dress like vines in a rainforest. At the end of each strip was a little bit of silver. Mari held one of the silver pieces up to her face - it looked like some sort of clasp.
She didn't have to wait long for the answer.
An elven woman brought in a birdcage. Packed into the cage were ten or so fairies. She couldn't count the exact number. They were all huddled at the bottom, squeezing in a tight bunch. They didn't move much, just the occasional twitch of a gossamer wing. All of them had a small collar encircling their necks.
The woman herself was dressed in a drab cotton outfit, not fitting into the glamor of the rest of the elves Mari had seen. She had a pin cushion hanging from a white cotton belt. Along the belt, itself were several spools of thread and different sized sewing needles. There was a twisted expression on her face when she looked at Mari, almost as if she was trying to hide a sneer with a smile.
Mari pointed at the fairies, getting right to the heart of the problem. "I don't want them attached to my dress."
The woman knelt next to the cage. "I've been instructed to make sure you are dressed in the current fashion; something brownies don't have the stomach to do." She opened the cage and reached in, grabbing a fairy by its delicate wings. The fairy twisted around in her hand, shrieking as it bit its pointy teeth deep into the elf's finger. The elven seamstress wrapped her fingers around the fairy's neck and twisted. There was a slight pop, and the little body went limp.
The seamstress held the fairy corpse in front of the other ones. "Behave," she said, her tone bored. "Any more of you with a death wish?" She reached in and grabbed another fairy. This time the little creature remained still in her hand. The seamstress turned and grabbed one of the strands of Mari's belt.
"No," Mari said, stepping back. Her movement was blocked by the mirror she'd used to admire her outfit just moments before. "I said I didn't want this. Please set them free."
The seamstress laughed, clicking the fairy onto the belt. It clung to Mari's skirt, adding no tangible weight. The seamstress reached for another. Mari reached down for the sprite, but it darted to the side. She grabbed the strand of her belt that it was attached to and reeled it in. It hovered in the air in front of her, straining to pull away. Mari began to fiddle with the clasp, trying to figure out how to undo it.
The seamstress slapped Mari's hands, knocking the fairy down to the ground. When it stood back up, one of its wings was folded in half, clearly broken. The seamstress reached for it.
Mari got there first, scooping it off the ground.
"That one is useless now," the seamstress said. "Give it here."
"Show me how to unclip them," Mari demanded.
The seamstress frowned at her. "Let me get rid of that damaged one before it decides to ruin your dress."
Chase stood, silent as he watched the exchange, not joining in.
The fairy with the broken wing wasn't doing much of anything. It lay in Mari's hands, holding its broken wing and crooning. The rest of the fairies in the cage were all watching Mari.
Mari drew herself up to her full diminutive height and gave the elven woman her best cold stare. It was clear to her that the seamstress wouldn't listen to her. Even with the affection of the Prince, she didn't have authority over anyone. Back in her world, Mari wouldn't have dreamed of arguing about an outfit; she would have let the seamstress do whatever she wanted, regardless of her own feelings. She would have faded into the background, a nonentity in the decision-making process.
Mari knew that she couldn't back down. She didn't like fairies - they were horrible little monsters and tended to destroy her things, but just because she didn't like them didn't mean she could stand by and let them be killed.
"You will show me," Mari hissed. "If you don't, the moment you step out of the room, I am going to rip giant holes this dress and then go to the ball. I'll act as if everything is normal. When the Prince asks me what happened, I'll let them know that you gave it to me like that. What do you think will happen then?"
The elven woman paled. It was a good threat. No one would believe Mari would sabotage her own appearance at the ball of her dreams. Mari wasn't even sure she could go through with it. She needed to make a great impression on the court, and showing up in a ripped up gown was not going to do that.
"I'll show you," the seamstress said. "But you will wear the rest of the fairies throughout the dance so that I don't get blamed for you not being up to fashion. You can do whatever you want with them afterward."
"Deal," Mari replied.
The seamstress showed her how the clasp worked. One had to hold down a small pin while twisting the entire thing, a feat that the delicate fairies didn't have the strength for. Mari detached the wounded fairy from her dress and held it while the seamstress clipped the rest of the fairies on. She addressed the fairies, threatening them with death if they didn't hold pieces of Mari's dress out as they flitted around her. It was disturbing to her, looking down at their tiny captive faces, but she promised herself she would make sure they were freed afterward, not just put back into a cage for another day.
Once the seamstress left, Mari took the wounded fairy over to her bed and set it down. It started to crawl away from her, but she stopped it, grabbing it by its tiny waist.
She inspected its wing. She didn't know anything about fairy anatomy. She wanted to help it, but she had no idea how to.
She looked down at the group of fairies that clung to her skirt.
"I don't suppose you know what to do?" she asked them. "I don't know how to help it."
Their little faces stared up at her.
They hesitated, sharing glances between themselves.
The group fluttered up from her skirt to the bed. Mari sat down on it, allowing them to close in on the wounded fairy. One of the captives put a sharp little claw into the cover of the bed and began to rip into it.
"Stop that!" Chase said, closing in.
"Leave them alone," Mari said.
The fairies ripped several strips out of the cover of the bed. A few moved over to the wooden headboard of the bed and started scratching at it. Soon they had a few slivers of wood to go along with the strips.
As Mari watched, the fairies held the wounded one down, pulled its win
g straight, and proceeded to splint it with the pilfered materials. Mari wasn't surprised. The fairies at her house were mischievous, not stupid.
Chase, however, was a different matter. The expression on his face was one of utter surprise.
"Fairies can't do that!" he said.
"Don't be silly," Mari said. "They aren't animals." She took one of the feather pillows from the head of the bed, laid it flat, and then patted the center, creating a depression in it. She scooped up the wounded fairy and placed it in the center.
"Now you stay there," she said. "When I'm done, I'll bring your buddies back, and we'll figure out a way to get you out of here." She looked down at the rest of them. "Will you help me out by acting normal?"
One of the captive fairies, its feathery hair, a familiar purple with black tints, opened its mouth. "Yes," it said. "We behave, you free?"
Mari stared at the fairy in surprise. She was about to open her mouth and acknowledge it but thought better of it. There was no point in explaining to Chase about the familiar little face. She had a ball to get to! Instead, she nodded in response to the fairy and rose to her feet slowly, giving them a chance to arrange themselves so their leashes wouldn't drag them along. She turned to Chase. "Shall we go?"
To call it a ballroom would be a grave insult.
Mari knew the room was inside the Palace, but it looked as if she'd stepped into an ice cavern. Crystals spiraled, jutting out to create a ceiling of twisted light. Mounds of rock obscured parts of the cavernous room, or at least, they were supposed to. To Mari, the icy rocks flickered in between solid images and transparent illusions. She knew what that meant - the entire cavernous appearance was a figment of magic. To everyone else, it must look amazing, but to her, it was just nothing but a disguise.
She turned to Chase to brag about seeing through the illusion only to find that he was gone. He'd left her alone in the icy ballroom. Groups of elves stood about the room, and they were all looking at her; she heard a soft chuckle from her right and glanced over.
Lady Silvia stood, surrounded by admirers, a smile on her beautiful face. She was dressed in a gown that matched the illusion around her, silver, and ice that blended into the surroundings, making her stand out as if she was an ethereal inhabitant of the cavern rather than one of its many colorful visitors. She lifted her hand and waved at Mari, and the elves around her broke into laughter. Mari felt awkward and out of place. Compared to Lady Silvia, she was just another interloper, and not an attractive one either.