“First thing,” Stef said over the piano, “is to relax. You’re doing this to have fun, not hurt yourself.”
The song was one I’d heard a recording of in Sam’s cabin, so when Stef said to step on the beat, I knew which one she meant. When she said twirl here, and demonstrated, I mimicked that too. Music filled the house, and the lightning-fast notes made me want to dance. I did everything Stef did, and when I did it incorrectly, she took my arms and placed them where they should be, or nudged my foot with hers.
When the first piece ended, Sam went right into the next. It was fast, too, but the beats came at different times from the first.
“Count,” Stef said. “One, two, three. No four. Not on this one.”
Connections snapped in my head, and when I tried to mimic her movements, my body obeyed. Hips, arms, legs. Step here, here, and here. Giddiness surged through me as we finished the dance and she called for him to do that one again.
“Do you remember it?” She grinned as the music began. “You can do this dance for any song with this beat. Simply adjust to the tempo. Ready?” She didn’t wait for me to answer, just started dancing, every motion fluid but precise. Hair whipped around as I followed her, flashes of blond and red in the corners of my vision. My body remembered what to do, how to move to this song. Our dresses flared as we spun and circled each other. It was hard to be angry or jealous like this. Maybe she wasn’t so bad.
When the music ended, I was sweaty and breathing hard, but smiling. Stef looked smug.
“Now what?” Sam peered in from the other room, his expression carefully blank as he watched us. “Another one?”
Stef glanced at me as she smoothed back her hair; she wasn’t even sweating. “I think that’s enough for today. I’ll come back tomorrow, so clear space in the parlor, because the kitchen is no place to dance. We’ll try a different one. Slower maybe. It’s a dedication of souls, you know. It won’t be all spinning around until you can’t stand up. Ana might find someone nice to dance with.”
“Hmm.” Sam returned to the kitchen, still not looking at me.
I took several deep breaths before sitting again, letting the dance-induced euphoria leak out. “What’s a dedication of souls?”
“Ah, leave it to Sam to forget to explain.” She kept up the charade, though I was certain we all knew she getting revenge for something. For what she’d walked in on earlier? “Some people believe souls were made as matching pairs. It can take time for them to realize or grow into their roles as lovers, but eventually the matches find each other. They dedicate their souls to each other for every life. And because everyone likes a party, they rededicate every time they’re reborn.”
“That’s really sweet.” I took a drink of my cold coffee, trying to imagine loving someone so much I’d want to spend thousands of years with them.
“Yes, some people think so.” She slid into the chair between Sam and me. “But the real fun of the rededication is the masquerade. See, the idea is that when you passionately love someone and feel like your souls are a matched pair, you should be able to find that soul, and love them, no matter what body they’re in. We all get told who’s who when they’re born, of course, so when it comes time for the rededication, everyone dresses up in costume.”
I nodded slowly. “Because you should be able to find your match when you can’t tell who you’re looking at.”
“Exactly.”
“You’re not supposed to tell anyone what you’re going as,” Sam said, “especially if you’re the ones dedicating. But people usually do. It’s embarrassing if you end up dancing with the wrong person by the end.”
“I’m sure.”
“At least you don’t have to wait through all the speeches if they get it wrong.” Stef grinned.
“Guess what Stef’s favorite part is,” Sam muttered. “But there’s more than just dancing and the two hunting around for their match. There’s—”
“Don’t spoil it for her, Dossam.” Stef waved his words into nothingness. “Everyone is invited. Let her see when she gets there.”
Well, I hadn’t been invited into the city. The Council could say no masquerade for me, and I’d be stuck inside while everyone else went to have fun. I bit my lip. “Have either of you had a ceremony of your own?”
“No,” they both said, and Stef continued, “It’s very rare, and most people aren’t even sure matching souls are real. But they like the party. There’s always lots of food and drinks, and it’s a wonderful excuse to dress up.”
“You both usually go?”
“Stef dances. I play music.”