“With all due respect, Lord Kalen,” Sveta purred, “I think that’s exactly why people prefer subtlety—to avoid a confrontation, not least of all with a Deathseeker like yourself.”
“Girls!” Zoya exclaimed. “We’re here for our guests to relax and unwind, not talk about the petty politics between Odalia and Kion. Their food has arrived, so I propose we play some songs while they eat! We’ve been practicing hard for the upcoming darashi oyun. Would you like a preview?”
Prince Kance nodded with some eagerness, and Kalen straightened up in his seat, setting his now-empty glass down on the table. Even Princess Maeve could not feign boredom.
One of the other Falling Leaf attendants arrived, laden with trays of food: five kinds of soft cheeses, fresh flatbreads, stuffed vegetables steeped in spicy sauces, a fancy legume stew called āsh, and sabzi polo rice with chopped herbs and trout. They all smelled good, but I was too distracted to appreciate them.
Zoya, as usual, took the lead. She glided before the two noblemen, her hand lifted in the air, and waited for some unspoken signal. Four other girls took their positions behind her, copying her movements. Two more asha took up a corner of the room, strumming at setars. As one, they began to play a slow, almost mournful melody.
Zoya moved. Her sleeves lifted and fell as she pivoted on one heel and began a series of complex moves, and I felt my breath catch in my throat, the pain in my head forgotten for the moment. There was something haunting about the way she turned her head, as if she were filled with an inconceivable sadness that lent gravity and a sense of genuine melancholy to her dancing. She pivoted across the room, and the long robes that clung to her became less of an impediment and more of an emphasis, a weapon by which she could direct her energy, and every step she took appeared effortless. As much as I disliked the asha, I felt like I could forgive her in those minutes when she danced, if only for the chance she gave me to see something so magnificent.
It was only when they were halfway through the routine did I notice the spell she was weaving. Zoya was expertly sketching out a rune in the air without taking a break from her dancing, so that the act of drawing the rune looked like a natural part and parcel of her choreography. It blazed out before us, the symbol perfect and flawless and so heavy in size that it stood as big as she was.
Zoya’s fingers made a minute, almost inconsequential flick, and one by one, tiny flames sputtered up from nothing, dancing in the air in silent accompaniment. I clapped a hand to my mouth to swallow my gasp. Everyone else had left their food untouched on their plates, mesmerized by the asha’s performance. A mixture of grudging appreciation and envy painted the girls’ faces. Kalen leaned forward, eyes intent, and Prince Kance… The admiring way he looked at Zoya made my heartsglass flicker in pained response.
I wanted to dance like her. I was captivated by her grace, by her fluid movements, by the way a series of small steps and hand gestures can make someone look so beautiful. And I too was selfish: I wanted Prince Kance to look at me the way he was looking at the dancing asha.
Zoya ended with a graceful flourish—one hand raised, the hem of her dress swishing forward as she performed her final steps. She held the pose for a few seconds and then giggled, breaking the silence. She clapped her hands, and the asha behind her bowed. Prince Kance and his friends applauded. Princess Maeve scowled again. My headache returned.
“That was breathtaking, Zoya,” Kalen said, reluctant admiration in his voice.
“I have to agree,” Prince Kance added. “I have seen asha perform many times, but yours put many of them to shame.”
The asha smiled at him. “Thank you, Your Highness. And I sense, Lord Kalen, that for all your distaste of the subtle, this is the one exception about asha that you do appreciate. You must try the sabzi polo, milords. It’s the Falling Leaf’s specialty, and the cook will be disappointed if it goes untasted.”
“It’s almost a wonder that they did not give you the role of Dancing Wind in the darashi oyun.” Honey dripped from Princess Maeve’s voice.
Zoya’s smile disappeared abruptly. “How did you know that?”
“My mother is an avid fan of the performances, and she makes it a point to attend every year.” Maeve shrugged. “The role you are to play is—let’s see, that of Falling Tears, isn’t it? A subordinate role to the main lead. An adequate performance, but it must be shocking to know that there are better dancers than you. Let me recall—why, it’s Lady Shadi of the Valerian cast as Dancing Wind! She must be brilliant if she can beat even full-fledged asha for the role even before her official debut!”
“Unfortunately, to be the most accomplished dancer does not guarantee one a starring role in the darashi oyun. There is more of the subtle politics at play here that Lord Kalen despises. And the houses have decided on Shadi.” Zoya shot me a nasty grin. “Isn’t that right, Tea? The Valerian is known for its dancers, isn’t it? Would you like to see how my dancing fares with House Valerian, Lord Kalen?”
“Lady Shadi isn’t here.”
“I’m sure her apprentice would be more than adequate for the task.”
I felt cold all over. Zoya gestured toward me, her lips wide and her eyes glittering.
“But isn’t Tea still a novice?” Prince Kance protested.
“Oh, I’m afraid dancing is still a bit over her head. I’ve never seen an asha with such two left feet! No, she’ll play a simple enough song on her setar called the ‘River Dance,’ which is the first song we learn. All novitiates know that melody by heart. She would not be worth her salt as a budding asha if she makes a mess of even that.”
Some of her friends looked less certain. It was one thing to dress up in hua and pretend to be an asha, and it was another to force one to prove it.
“I’m not so sure about this, Zoya,” Sveta said uneasily.
“I am very sure,” Zoya snapped. “Come on, Tea. It wouldn’t do to embarrass me in front of your noble guests, would it? She came prepared enough to bring an instrument to play!”
Grabbing my arm, she led me, stumbling and still clutching Lady Shadi’s setar, to sit in front of all the guests. I sank down onto the floor and tried to fold my legs underneath me. My mind was a blank, the pounding in my head had worsened, and I was no longer sure it was because Lady Shadi’s hua was too tight on me.
“Well?” Zoya urged. “What are you waiting for?”
“Lady Zoya,” I mumbled. “I don’t feel well.”
“She doesn’t look very good, Zoya,” Prince Kance said. “I think we ought to let her rest.”
“Absolutely not,” the asha said firmly. “We are taught to perform even when it greatly inconveniences us. If she doesn’t learn how to get through a little sickness, then she won’t be of much good as an asha. Come on, Tea. Here, let me help you.”