It was almost amusing, just how casually Cordelia walked right towards where we were sitting.

  There was no time to think. No time to pn. Every noble eye in the hall was already on me - and most of them, I was certain, had been pced there by Duke Greenward himself.

  “Violet,” I whispered, voice tight, “please don’t do anything.” Even in my panic, I knew that definitely needed saying no matter what.

  Cordelia came and stood just a couple of feet away from my table, from my seat. She looked at me and smiled. Then, she curtsied. A perfect, smooth curtsy that still managed to put mine to shame.

  “Lady Veyne, it has been some time since we met at the Auction. I am delighted you could make your debut on a day like this."

  “I am relieved to see you well, Lady Cordelia.” I paused. “My congratutions on your betrothal.”

  Cordelia’s smile was fwless. It even reached her eyes. I didn’t buy it for a moment.

  “Thank you. As, Duke Garran and his son could not attend, and it would be a terrible omen for me to stand partnerless on my own betrothal night.” She stepped closer, curtsied again, lower this time, and extended one gloved hand.

  “Would you do me the honor of standing in his pce, Lady Veyne?”

  What could I do?

  This was clearly some kind of tradition or ritual that I didn’t understand. There was no telling whether this request was even something I could refuse, or what it might mean if I did.

  Damian would have been the natural fit, but then he wouldn't have worked for whatever charade this was, would he?

  Damn it. Damn it.

  Cordelia’s green eyes never left mine.

  “I fear I would make a poor substitute,” I answered, voice steady. “I have never danced the Entwined Waltz before.”

  A ripple of whispers swept the hall. Cordelia ignored them.

  “The steps are secondary,” she said, still smiling. “It is the act that matters, Lady Veyne.” She extended her hand, palm up. “And we will hardly be alone.”

  I let her pull me to my feet.

  She led me through the parting crowd straight to the center of the floor, directly in front of her father. Duke Greenward’s smile was radiant.

  “Come!” he called, voice carrying to every corner. “Please, join my daughter!”

  The orchestra started to swell again. Noble Lords and Ladies slowly stepped forward towards the empty center. Cordelia turned and faced me. Her smile never wavered.

  “What game is this?” I hissed.

  “Allow me to show you the proper form, Lady Veyne.” She said instead, taking my right hand with her left and moving it towards the small of her back. She took my left hand with her right, moved it to a spot just next to her shoulder.

  The position pulled us chest-to-chest. -close enough that I could smell her flowery scent.

  The music rose. Cordelia moved.

  One. Two. Three.

  It was simple at first. A gentle glide across the marble. Cordelia’s steps were so precise that they barely disturbed the hem of her gown. Mine felt like lead. My free hand hovered awkwardly; I kept forgetting where it belonged.

  I could manage this much, at least.

  “You’re keeping up,” she whispered against my ear, “better than I expected.”

  Every gaze in the hall was on us. I could feel the prickling of the Scrylens against my skin like a dozen hungry insects.

  “Whatever this is, it won’t work,” I said.

  Cordelia’s smile sharpened. The music changed.

  The beat grew faster. The violins climbed higher. The almost gentle rhythm became a spinning, breathless rush.

  Cordelia spun. My slipper caught the hem of her gown. She stumbled. I caught her elbow before she could fall.

  If she went down, the entire hall would bme me.

  Cordelia leaned in harder, using my body to steady herself. The scent of lilies was suffocating.

  Click. Click. Click

  The world zoomed into focus. I turned up my sight. Turned up my bance. It was something I had been practicing tely. Odd that I first tried it out in a pce like this.

  My steps steadied. I mirrored the couple to our left half a heartbeat before Cordelia moved. Then the couple behind us. Then the one to our right.

  I was keeping up.

  My skin prickled, in dozens of pces at once. A Scrylens. How annoying.

  I swept Cordelia into a clean turn. For the first time, her eyes widened.

  “You’re cold, Lady Cordelia,” I whispered. Her hand did feel cold now. Some of the girl’s mask slipped, and behind that mask, I saw fear.

  I ignored it. The music crested.

  My form was still clumsy, but I was matching her now. More than she - or her father - or anyone else here had expected.

  I actually allowed myself to rex, just a little.

  I briefly caught sight of my own table. Damian looked dumbfounded. Violet looked enraged.

  It was hard not to smile at them. I kept my expression passive, just as all of the dancing men around me had. Something told me that was important. What an odd tradition.

  Something caught my foot. It wasn’t a matter of bance. It wasn’t Cordelia mixing her legs with mine. Something pulled. I stumbled forward. My sense of bance might have saved me anyway, but Cordelia’s weight pulled me down. We both fell on the floor.

  Riiip.

  The entire hall seemed to freeze.

  I rose quickly, my gaze fell to Cordelia. There was a faint smirk on her face, one gone so quickly I almost thought I’d just imagined it. It was repced by confused shock. She quickly gnced down at her torn gown, at the straight cut from her thigh to stomach.

  She rose shakily, one hand pressed to the tear as if mortified.

  “....the brute can’t even dance….”

  “....the poor Greenward girl….”

  Duke Julian Greenward himself was at his daughter’s side in a few heartbeats. He helped her up, looked at me, not unkindly.

  “I thank you, Lady Veyne, but perhaps a more…fitting partner would do my daughter well on this night.” His voice projected, just enough to carry beyond us. “It seems that a Veyne is a poor repcement for a Bulwark.”

  Hot, humiliating fury boiled up in my chest. I wanted to scream. I wanted to reach out, grab Julian Greenward by his expensive pels, and strangle him with them.

  I couldn’t. More than that, I couldn’t see what I could possibly do in this situation. I felt helpless.

  Click. Click.

  I reached into my mind and violently twisted the knobs of my Gift, cmping down on the burning rage until there was little left but cold, hollow indifference. I forced my face into a mask of polite, apologetic grace.

  LIAR.

  The word exploded in my skull, a scream from the Godbde so loud it sent a phantom spike of pain right behind my eyes.

  I ignored it, keeping my polite, empty expression perfectly still.

  The food ptters arrived moments ter.

  I didn’t want to eat. The venison smelled like smoke; the sauce tasted like ash. I pushed it around my pte, staring at nothing.

  “How long are you going to bloody mope?” Violet grumbled. She reached out, stabbed into the meat I’d only been toying with, and stole it from my pte.

  I didn’t have the energy to scold her for table manners in public. Anias had apparently been trying to teach her these manners.

  She had not been receptive so far.

  “She’s not moping.” Damian countered. “She’s thinking. You should try doing that yourself sometime. I hear it’s good for you.”

  Violet pointed her fork at him like a dagger. “Can it, rockboy.”

  Damian, unexpectedly, stayed silent.

  Violet stared between the two of us, growled, and channelled mana.

  Thunk

  I blinked as she stabbed the fork directly into the table, the metal cutting right through the wood.

  “Get a grip,” Violet said, staring at me. “You tripped during one stupid dance. Who the hell cares?”

  “It’s not the dance,” I said quietly. “It’s the implication.”

  “You’d know that if you thought for once,” Damian added, still calmly eating.

  Violet snorted. “Oh yeah? Enlighten me then, rock boy. You think you know everything? Go on. I’m listening.” She folded her arms. Sat back in her chair.

  Damian opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “It’s about the betrothal. Tonight was supposed to be Cordelia’s perfect moment. Now the whole hall thinks that Esra ended up ruining it.”

  “That’s stupid,” Violet said firmly. “That bit- that Lady, made Esra trip.”

  I looked up sharply. “She did?”

  “She used her Gift,” Violet said confidently. “Pretty damn subtle too, but I’m sure of it. Didn’t exactly see what it was, though. Just saw the mana.”

  “Hmm…” That made sense. I hadn’t exactly been using Mana Sight, and just because you didn’t feel a person using mana didn’t mean they weren’t. They could simply be using such a small amount of it that it was hard to tell.

  “So…am I right?” Damian asked. “About what I said?”

  A while ago, he wouldn’t have come up with even this. It seemed all the forced reading was doing him some good.

  “Mostly,” I admitted. “The trip itself is nothing. It’s the message behind it.”

  They were both looking at me then. Damian looked like he wanted to take notes. Violet looked like she was going to stab me if I didn’t hurry up.

  “Duke Greenward announced this betrothal to House Bulwark as a boon to a city that has had two major incidents in the span of a month. In front of a nobility that doesn’t feel safe. Then, at the end, he said that a Veyne makes a poor repcement for a Bulwark.” I paused, letting my own fork lightly trail across the pte in front of me.

  “He told the city that they now have a stronger protector than House Veyne. All with one dance. His daughter is just a pawn. This was Julian provoking me. Threatening to make me obsolete.”

  He hadn’t decred war tonight.

  He had simply shown the entire nobility that House Veyne could be embarrassed in public and that a far stronger shield now stood behind House Greenward.

  He had doubtless pnned and framed this whole event, and he had done so masterfully. No matter what I could have done or said, the outcome wouldn’t have changed.

  It was the kind of pn I might have come up with.

  Damn it.

  It was a noose with no sck at all.

  The worst part was that I didn’t understand why. I didn’t see any reason why he would move against me so openly, and in such a big fashion at that. I was starting to think that he had read things into our st conversation I hadn’t intended at all.

  “So he flexed a little,” Violet said, rolling her eyes. “What the hell does that have to do with you not eating?”

  I paused. “What?”

  “Yeah. He tripped you. Who cares? Eat. Then get his ass back tomorrow. Simple.”

  Damian actually choked. I had to press my lips together to keep from ughing. Some of it must have shown anyway.

  “What?” Violet glowered. "Did I say something funny?"

  “No, not at all,” I smirked. She was right, in a manner of speaking. This night might not have gone my way, but it was clearly some kind of warning, rather than a proper attack.

  Besides, Greenward might have a betrothal, but it wasn’t like Duke Bulwark himself had come. The betrothal was to his third son, and even that son wasn’t here yet.

  There was more here, and I didn’t need to unravel everything in one night.

  Violet poked my arm with her fork. I had been too distracted to notice the first time. I certainly did the second when she poked me harder.

  “Hey, hey.”

  “Hmm?”

  “So,” she said, suddenly grinning, “does this mean I don’t have to keep sneaking into your manor every night like some kind of damn thief?”

  I thought about it for a moment, shrugged. Perhaps this decision had already been made for me when I’d reached out to her in front of everyone. That, at least, was one thing I didn’t regret tonight.

  “No. No more sneaking in.” I confirmed.

  Violet grinned and stabbed the meat in front of her into two pieces with just a fork. Damian groaned.

  I finally picked up my own fork.

  No. Tonight hadn’t gone my way. I just had to make sure that tomorrow did.

  thestsurvivor