by Faye, Audrey
The minutest of pauses. “I wasn’t aware of the visit until she arrived.”
Points for Camellia. It took guts and careful planning to surprise Yesenia Mayes. Why the cantankerous legend had bothered was a different question, and one I likely wouldn’t discover the answer to. Camellia was a force of nature and smart Dancers went where she pointed them. Except I’d just been kicked by my boss for doing exactly that.
I sighed and tried to learn from my mistakes, even though I didn’t understand them. “Camellia might prefer someone else. She thinks I’m too soft on the trainees.” I could hear the defiance that had snuck into my words, and I wanted to whimper. This was a really dumb time to have an accidental spurt of bravery.
A long pause while Yesenia watched me like I was a very interesting pinned butterfly specimen. “She specifically asked for you.”
I did a really poor job of hiding my surprise.
She raised an eyebrow. “We’re both well aware of your strengths, Journeywoman. Even when we ask you to move beyond them.”
Definitely a pinned specimen. “I’ll be happy to assist her.”
“Good.” Yesenia looked down at her tablet, her body language full of clear dismissal. “I’ll await your report from Thessalonia.”
The subtext was clear. The next time I stood in this office, the boss lady expected to be a lot happier with me.
Or else.
3
I tried to stretch as I walked down the narrow hallway, cursing the wretched state of my muscles. Dancers should not be galactic travelers. I’d been spending too much time in tin cans and not enough sweating on the dance floor. I hurt, and that wasn’t about to get better. I walked into the large, airy room where Camellia Reyes was currently holding court and knew that by the time the day ended I’d be hurting a lot more.
She stood up at the front by mirrors that had been put in place specifically at her request. They were standard practice in almost every dance studio in the galaxy, but KarmaCorp generally didn’t see us as that kind of dancer. Camellia did, however—and she’d gotten her training from someone who made Madame Tsarnova look like a preschooler in ballet tights.
She noted my entrance, the pretty colors of skydawn in the room making her look deceptively gentle. “Imogene. Good of you to join us.”
She sounded as if my presence had been expected hours ago. I reminded myself that I wasn’t a child. I was here to assist, and at her request, no less. I set my chin at an angle that would tell her all those things and began crossing the dance floor, careful to keep my posture formal and utterly under control. She would demand no less of every trainee in the room, and part of my job was to model her expectations.
The rest of it was to stand between her and any trainee who failed them. KarmaCorp didn’t let anyone eat children for breakfast, even Camellia Reyes.
They were less concerned about her chomping on grown-ups.
She flicked a finger at me that did more to disturb the nearby threads than most Dancers could have done in a week. I fluttered a finger back. She wasn’t the only one who could play that game.
The corners of her mouth twitched a barest fraction.
She turned her gaze back to the trainees standing at stiff attention in front of her. I knew who they were—the very best and brightest Dancers from each of the cohorts. All, even the youngest in the group, had shown themselves to have Talent far beyond the usual. Camellia’s job was to help layer discipline over their raw ability. Dancers generally had the fiercest tempers of the Talents, and any one of these girls throwing a temper tantrum at the wrong time could cause a lot of damage.
Something Camellia understood because she was the greatest Dance Talent ever to walk these halls.
And possibly also the crankiest. I sighed and came to a graceful halt just behind the trainees silly enough to be standing in the back row. They’d learn—there was no place to hide in Camellia’s class. I laid a quiet hand on Feebie’s shoulder. The tiny, lithe Dancer with corkscrew black curls and skin almost as dark was the newest addition to this group, and barely out of her tadpole year.
Two golden eyes noted my movement.
Tatiana Mayes. She’d been last year’s new addition to the group, and I would have expected her to still be quaking in her boots. From what I could see of her eyes, she was anything but. If Camellia intended to try to make Feebie a tasty breakfast morsel, I might not be the only person getting in her way.
The legend at the front of the room extended an imperious hand. “To the barre.”
The barre wasn’t part of our standard KarmaCorp Dancer training, but every girl in this room had some formal dance training in her background. I kept an eye on Feebie and relaxed as I saw her step up confidently to the long, thin railing.
Camellia called on one of the older girls to run us through a basic warm-up. She strolled the inner perimeter as we did so, watching and saying nothing. Every so often, a finger flicked imperiously and someone’s spine snapped straight or their arm jerked into alignment.
A woman who never did anything from the shadows. I scowled and pushed Yesenia’s commentary of yesterday out of my mind. I could think about that when I wasn’t trying to keep fourteen girls in one piece.
Camellia walked by me as I extended a leg up beside my ear. I wasn’t concerned by her scrutiny—perfect alignment had been drilled into me long before I stepped onto Stardust Prime. I did cast a quick glance at Feebie, but her brown toes stretched into the sky with a strength and flexibility that said she had earned her spot in this room.
Tatiana’s form was exquisite on the opposite barre, but she was still keeping a not-so-covert watch over the group’s youngest member as well. I hid a grin—the Lightbodies had been very good for that girl. Six months ago, I was pretty sure that very few people, and none of them over the age of fifteen, had ever seen anything but her really stellar impersonation of an ice queen. Now she was an ice queen whose heart sometimes slipped out onto her sleeve if you knew where to look.
I backed off on guard duties to sink into the warm-up and work myself into a good sweat. Unless Camellia had mellowed a whole lot since her last visit, I was going to pull something if I didn’t stretch myself properly.
Barre warm-up segued into diagonal passes across the room, three waves of five girls each, moving in precisely dictated step sequences. I kept a sharp eye out—for many of the trainees, this was pushing their footwork skills. The threads in the room were jumpier, more nervous. I reached out to calm them. No need for those emotions to get contagious.
I’d almost made it through my pass across the floor, continuing to smooth threads with my feet, when a knot to my side tangled sharply. I spun, hearing the crash behind me. One of the older girls had turned the wrong way and mowed right over tiny Feebie.
I jumped into the middle of things and had both girls on their feet before Camellia made it over. I pivoted to face her, trying to be subtle about the fact that I was putting my body between her and the two still-shaken girls.
Her eyes flashed with annoyance and something edgier.
I stepped out of the way, but I didn’t go far. The woman was legend for more than her Dance skills.
She scowled at the older girl who had made the error. “If you can’t keep your left foot straight from your right, you should go chain yourself to a desk. That kind of sloppiness out in the field could have devastating consequences.”
The words were said a lot more sharply than I would have said them, but she wasn’t wrong. Wren was one of our problem Dancers—wildly Talented, three rotations away from her apprentice year, and prone to lapses in focus. The kind that had her tripping over tiny Dancers who happened to be a little too focused during their first day in the big leagues.
Wren blanched. Being chained to a desk was pretty much the Dancer version of living hell.
Camellia turned her gaze to Feebie, and I had to seriously rein in the urge to step in. So far, the cranky old Dancer had been tough, but not mean.
“I wa
sn’t paying enough attention.” The tiny girl astonished everyone in the studio by opening her mouth and beating Camellia to the punch. “I was concentrating to make sure my form was exactly right, and I didn’t notice something important happening near me. That’s sloppy too.” She took a small step sideways, closer to Wren.
Camellia nodded. “You are correct.” She paused. “It’s good you can see that.”
I stared. The last Dancer who had dared to talk back to Camellia was still recovering from the trauma—and Feebie hadn’t even let our cranky prima donna speak first.
“Again.” The imperious hand wave had us all scurrying to the far wall to begin the exercise over. It didn’t escape my attention that Feebie planted herself at Wren’s side—or that Tatiana slid in on the other one.
I stepped up as part of the first row and made sure I positioned myself in front of the three of them. Wren, as supported as we could make her while still leaving her on her own two feet.
Two more passes across the floor, and then Camellia clapped her hands. Fifteen sweaty bodies came to an immediate halt. “I will see your free Dance now.” She pointed her finger at five of the older trainees. “You first.”
She’d picked five who had been to her workshops for several years and knew what to do. The rest of us cleared out against the walls, heading for water bottles and friends and the safety of the sidelines. I smiled as Tatiana and Wren helped Feebie with her leg warmers. Important lessons happened off the dance floor too.
I walked the perimeter of the room, checking on fluids and confidence levels, smoothing where I needed to, encouraging a little more focus where it would be useful. Working in the shadows. Doing the things Yesenia said I found too easy.
They mattered, dammit.
A young face smiled at me gratefully as I bent over to massage her tight calf muscles. Threads all around her eased along with the tension in her legs. I felt my own crankiness spurting. If this wasn’t serving the highest good, I had totally dysfunctional radar.
I grimaced—I was getting distracted by my own issues, and that definitely wasn’t serving anything useful. I angled my body to keep a better eye on the Dancers on the floor. I knew all five of these girls, but teenagers changed fast, and important shifts often showed up in their Dance first.
Three of the girls were exactly what I expected them to be—efficient, confident, and beautiful. Highly skilled Talents who understood their capabilities well and appreciated a hard teacher who could draw them out.
Cheska was a different matter, but that, too, wasn’t a surprise. She’d always been a flamboyant, energetic Dancer, but one who wasted her profligate Talent. Too much focus on the movements, on making a statement, on getting the universe to notice her.
Lola was usually the opposite, but I smiled as I watched her Dance. The curvy teenager was growing into more comfort with herself, and every step she took told the story of that quietly unfurling self-confidence. My fingers fluttered gently, honoring the change. It took bravery to let that happen, and I wanted to let her know I saw.
Sharp energy pinged off my fingers. Camellia, annoyed at my meddling from the sidelines.
I fluttered a clear response back. That’s why I was here—to balance out her diamond hardness. If she didn’t like that, she could ask for someone else next time.
At least half the girls in the studio quietly exhaled, including Lola. They all read finger talk just fine.
Camellia scowled, and then turned her head, surprised, as the studio door opened. I felt the threads shifting as fourteen girls and two grown women reacted to the presence of the person who had just walked in and positioned herself on the wall to watch. The boss lady cometh.
Lola, nervier than most, tripped over her own feet in the middle of the dance floor.
I took two steps off the wall before catching the look on her face as she stood back up. The sheer, brave intent forming as she rose. One shy, body-conscious teenager who intended to show the world she was more than what had just happened.
I held the threads around her. Steadying. Leaving space for what was building inside her sixteen-year-old soul. I could feel Camellia outside those threads, moving the other four girls off the floor, and Yesenia’s eyes, missing nothing. Feebie and Wren gulped hard from their positions on Tatiana’s wings.
Lola took a loud, shaky breath and started to move. By her third or fourth inhale, nothing was shaky anymore.
Nobody else in the room was breathing. They were too busy watching the feet and hands and face and heart of the teenage phoenix rising from the ashes of an embarrassed stumble.
There are a precious few times in a Dancer’s life when she gets to become one with the energies of the galaxy, when the storming beauty of all that is floods in and moves her spine and toes and dances her into someone who will never be quite the same again.
Lola had just stepped into one of hers.
The other girls were responding now, bodies that could no longer sit still in the face of what moved in this room. Undulating hands, wiggling toes, bodies hearing energy’s call and answering. Even Camellia’s fingers were moving.
On the far side of the room, Feebie walked forward, awestruck eyes glued to Lola’s dance. I winced and tried to get her attention—she needed to stay out of the way. Wren took a quick look at the frown on Camellia’s face, gulped, and stepped forward right behind the tiny Dancer’s left shoulder. A fraction of a moment later, golden eyes flanked Feebie on the right.
All of them still walking forward. Respectfully, every line of their bodies full of honoring. Letting themselves catch the edges of Lola’s Dance. Because the three of them knew what I was just figuring out. Lola didn’t want to be in this moment alone. That was utterly obvious as I watched the threads of her joy wrap around the three who had come to join her.
Feebie transformed into the small girl she still was, a happy bubble bouncing around in what Lola had created. Wren’s movements were more thoughtful—those of a girl finally considering what might be possible. I smiled. Sometimes the best incentive in the world was a friend exceeding their expectations.
I could see Camellia stepping in—not to work with Lola, but with Wren. There was a reason she came back to work with the girls year after year, and a reason KarmaCorp let her. If anyone could solidify what our flighty trainee had just caught the edge of, Camellia would get the job done.
Oddly, I found myself watching the fourth Dancer on the floor. Tatiana was feeling the energy—I could see it touching her, calling her response forth. She was moving to the beat of what we could all feel, and she was making very sure to keep it Lola’s party. Too sure, maybe.
I frowned, watching her elegant, controlled, precise Dance. This was the Tatiana of a year ago, and I’d been at enough Lightbody Sunday dinners lately to know that girl had been quite thoroughly busted out of her shell.
Her Dance needed to shift too.
Camellia’s fingers flicked my direction again. Hold. Be still.
Realization hit, and I snuck a glance over at the wall where Yesenia still stood, watching. Her face gave away nothing, and more importantly to a room full of Dancers, neither did her body. It wasn’t even clear if she’d noticed her daughter’s elegant presence.
Something inside me wanted to go beat her around the head with one of my old toe shoes.
Another flick from Camellia, far more subtle this time. I glared, not at all sure whose side she was on.
Not at all sure whose side I was on. I wasn’t the kind of person who pushed anyone out from under disguises they wanted to be wearing. People had a right to ease and comfort, and that included their right to walk through the world wearing whatever masks they wanted. Tatiana had every reason to keep hers on, starting with the woman leaning on the far wall and ending with her clear wish not to steal any of Lola’s light.
I stood for a moment in my confused unease, and then I got distracted by the bubbles as an effervescent Feebie went over and kissed a blushing Lola’s hand. So distracted that I
entirely missed Camellia until she was right at my shoulder. “She hides,” she said in a voice meant for my ears alone. “She has reasons.”
I didn’t have to ask who she meant. The girl with the golden eyes was back on the wall, sliding into shadows as if the past few minutes had never been. “It’s not healthy.” I somehow knew that, even if it conflicted with my comfortable views of how things should work.
“You would know.” Camellia’s voice was her usual hard calm, but her fingers betrayed amusement. She turned away from me, every movement elegant perfection.
And fired her parting shot. “The last trainee I saw Dance like that was you.”
4
What a freaking day.
Camellia made me dance for her for two hours after we wrapped up with the trainees, and she finished what the Etruscan sector had started. I was done.
Done, and frayed by things far worse than exhausted toes and umpteen layers of dried sweat. Camellia had shaken the same part of me Yesenia had gone after—the part that believed my way of moving through the world was good and right and useful. I wasn’t used to feeling that kicked in the teeth.
I also wasn’t ready to head back off-planet, but we always did our send-offs, even when one of us had a really fast turnaround. I looked around our pod, glad it was me leaving—my friends all looked more tired than I felt, even if they were doing their best to hide it.
Raven was rubbing my toes, Tee was doctoring the drinks so they wouldn’t leave anybody with a sore head in the morning, and Kish was stomping around with the kind of energy that said it had been too long since she’d seen Devan and she didn’t know what to do about it.
I felt for her. We all knew what it was to be apart from people we loved, but what those two felt for each other could power a star cluster.
If Yesenia had a heart, she’d be sending Kish to the boondocks again really soon.
I blinked, hearing my own thoughts. A heart wasn’t something we’d ever expected the boss lady to have, but we were all growing some sneaking suspicions on that front. I thought about the threads when she’d come to watch Tatiana dance yesterday. They’d claimed utter disinterest, but my eyes insisted they had seen something different.
