Mistress Parmina had enrolled me in what was called the Vahista school, and Instructor Yasmin was its current head. The Vahista was the first among many already-prestigious academies in Ankyo that specialized in training asha to dance; while some schools did teach outsiders, the Vahista taught only those who could draw runes.
That I would love dancing was something I never expected. There were slow dances, where every movement was made with exaggerated gravity and every gesture had to be placed just right. There were fast dances, where I had to be agile on my feet, spinning and leaping despite the heaviness of my hua. Most asha learned about two or three hundred dances, while those who sought to master the craft learned at least seven hundred. I loved the way the silk of my robes whispered and rustled every time I moved, the sense of proud accomplishment whenever I finished a difficult routine.
I loved dancing and fighting, but I didn’t always have the patience I was expected to have when it came to my other lessons. I didn’t always practice and consequently started to let some of my setar playing slide. I was restless when a history lesson went slower than I wanted, and I didn’t pay as much attention to learning the language of flowers. I was able to skip classes once, after a dozen more students had been added to my instructor’s class and my absence was easier to overlook. I used the extra time to practice my sword fighting with Fox, who nonetheless disapproved of my skipping class and told me rather pointedly not to do that again.
“I’m here to fight daeva. Why do I need to learn everything else?” I demanded.
“Duty means doing something not because you like it but because you’re supposed to,” he reminded me. “You chose to be an asha. That means doing everything that comes with it.”
It was hard to argue with Fox; the disappointment I could feel through our bond was enough to make me cry.
Before arriving home from my lessons, I would always take a walk with my brother, and I would tell him about my day. We would first visit Chesh’s zivar shop and browse, also an excuse to visit Likh, with whom I had quickly formed a close friendship. Then we would take a walk around the marketplace in Ankyo, and we would purchase a few snacks to eat, such as feta cheese drizzled in a spicy sauce or salty watermelon seeds or crunchy carrot and zucchini slices we could eat with chickpea dip. Fox was evasive when I asked him about his day and would only say that Instructor Hami had been assisting him in training as well. But when he showed up one day sporting fresh cuts on his arms, I couldn’t wait.
“Have you been getting into fights?” I demanded. “Are you doing something illegal? Don’t make me look into that stubborn head of yours!”
Fox laughed and raised his hands. “I’m not doing anything the asha haven’t approved. It’s combat training with army soldiers, Tea. You can’t expect me to get out of every fight blemish free.”
“But your wounds aren’t healing!”
“I don’t feel the pain, and I don’t bleed. Another perk of being dead.”
My brother wasn’t taking it seriously, so I tried appealing to Lady Mykaela. “There is a remedy for Fox’s physical injuries,” she told me gently, “but you are both not yet ready for it. When the time comes, I will teach you myself. Trust me, Tea.”
I did, so I grudgingly acquiesced.
It was a foolish thing to hope for and unrealistic given my circumstances, but I always kept hoping to run into Prince Kance, though I never did. I had not seen him since my mishap at the Falling Leaf, and I’d been wanting to find him and apologize, even if I knew I was using this as an excuse for something else. But the prince did not return to Kion, and I forced myself to abandon such unreasonable hopes.
It was late in the afternoon by the time I arrived back home, and I would often lock myself in my room and practice the dances I had learned that day until supper was ready—usually a savory stew and bread and some yogurt sweetened with honey. I studied my lessons, practiced both my combat and dance training, and went to bed early to begin the cycle all over again the next day.
? ? ?
“Out with it, Likh.”
“What do you mean?” Fox and I had brought along some sweetly chilled paloodeh as a gift for Likh. Clients were few at this time of day, and Chesh was kind enough to give him a half-hour break. We three made a strange sight, sitting on the side stairway, watching the long row of stores and the different customers who trooped in and out of the shops, browsing and bargaining. Likh looked tired. He was noticeably thinner and only picked at his food.
“There’s something wrong with this.” I reached over and tapped at his heartsglass, which stuttered between red and pink.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“I may not be an asha yet, but I know heartsglass. I am good at reading heartsglass, even when you do your best to hide it under your shirt whenever we meet. And yours don’t make sense.”
Now he looked nervous. “I have the same heartsglass as everyone else.”
“No you don’t, and that’s my point. I thought there was something unusual when we first met, but I didn’t think much about it. But your heartsglass repeats that same rhythm over and over again regardless of what you’re really feeling. It’s not natural. No other human heartsglass does that. What is it?”
“Tea,” Fox interjected. “This is a personal matter.”
“No, it isn’t. You don’t have a life-threatening condition I’m aware of. You’re nervous and worried, but your heartsglass never changes color to reflect that. I don’t know how else to explain it—unless you’re not human at all.”
“I’m as human as you and Fox! Well, maybe not Fox…”
“Thanks,” my brother said.
“Then what’s wrong? Likh, you know you can trust us.”
“Fine.” The boy took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you.” He turned so that his back faced the street and removed one of the pins in his hair. His heartsglass changed immediately—into a brilliant silver sheen.
“Likh!” I gaped. “You’re a—you’re a—”
“I can draw runes,” Likh said bitterly. “And you know what that means. Nobody knows because no one really looks at a shop’s assistant, but when my Heartsrune day arrives next year, they’ll find out. I’ll be forced to become a Deathseeker.”
“You can’t,” Fox said, alarmed. “It’s a hard life. You’re lucky they haven’t found you yet, or you’d be at a training camp by now.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Does Mistress Chesh know?”
“Yes, this was her idea. But she can’t do anything about it. It’s the rules.”
“Why not be an asha?”
“I’d want that more than anything.” Tears rolled down his face. “But you know I can’t be one. I’m the wrong—well, I’m the wrong everything for it. Just not where it counts most.”
I felt terrible for him. Likh was easily more beautiful than many other asha I’d seen. He was light on his feet and graceful. I also knew that he would not be able to survive Deathseeker training. He would make an exceptional dancer if only…
“Why not?”
It was Likh’s turn to stare at me. “Why not what?”
“Why not be an asha for a little while?”