“No, I’ve never gone in. It’s freezing down here. You’re barking mad.” Ciaran leaned back, bracing his muscled forearms on the stone ground behind us, and chuckled. “You’re just like them…”
“Like who?” I demanded.
“There’s this group of old ladies just outside of Cliatha who swim in the ocean every day, rain or shine, winter or summer. You’d fit right in with those old birds.” Ciaran’s eyes shone. I pursed my lips, not knowing how to interpret him comparing me to the old ladies from his hometown.
“I dare you to jump,” I said in a singsong voice. I was feeling bold. So bold and so stupid.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Ciaran was scrambling to his feet now. “Invoking a dare is sacred magic,” he said, his voice low and solemn. “I cannot refuse it without paying dire consequences.”
“Is that so?” I got to my feet as well, heels sliding a bit on the rough, rocky ground.
“It is indeed. But I have a counter spell for certain.” He held a hand over his heart in mock solemnity. “I double dog dare you to go in with me.” Mischief sparkled in his eyes, and my heart squeezed at the sight of it.
“Double dog dare?” I laughed. “What dark magic is that?” I started to joke, but then I fell silent, because Ciaran was unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off. My breath caught and suddenly, it didn’t seem so funny anymore.
“Double. Dog. Dare.” He punctuated every word as he shucked off his shoes and pants, standing in his underwear, looking at me expectantly.
“I guess I deserved that,” I hissed, sounding braver than I felt. “Okay. Here goes nothing.” I shrugged out of my shift dress and kicked off my heels. My lacy black brassiere and tiny shorts were all that remained. For a moment, Ciaran and I just stared at each other.
I had seen Ciaran without a shirt before, but it had been accidental—like when I had first escaped the opera house, or when we bumped into each other on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. This was purposeful. It was intimate. Hisbody was magnificent. It took all the restraint I had to keep my eyes from roving down to the tight black shorts he wore. To stop myself from looking at him in too much detail.
Ciaran had no such restraint. He was staring at me with obvious hunger in his eyes as they lingered on my breasts, my thighs, between them. Blush rose in my cheeks as he caught himself and brought his gaze back to my face.
“Ready?” He cleared his throat, as if his mouth had gone as dry as mine had.
“Oh, I was born ready,” I mocked, trying to shake off the sudden tightening in my chest.
Ciaran held out a hand—I took it. “Three. Two. One. Go.” We ran the three steps to the edge and hand in hand, launched ourselves into the air.
The water in the Cistern hit me like a thousand tiny knives. It was so cold my toes went numb in the seconds it took to kick back up to the surface. I held tightly onto Ciaran’s hand as my head broke through, gasping down lungfuls of air, laughing.
“Holy mother of demons, that’s cold,” Ciaran swore as he shook tendrils of hair out of his eyes, water spraying my face.
“I immediately regret invoking the dare!” I shrieked. My feet hadn’t touched the bottom when we launched ourselves in—I could not stand now. The Cistern’s depths remained a mystery, and I treaded water. My knee brushed against Ciaran’s beneath the surface. My hand was still in his. Dark eyes held mine and we stayed there silently for a few moments.
“You know, it’s not so bad once you get over the initial shock.” Ciaran pulled his hand away from mine, swimming a few strokes toward the centre of the Cistern and looking back at me. Water sluiced down his neck, gleaming on the strong column of his throat. I tipped back, floating at the surface. With my ears under the water, I couldn’t hear anything but the hammeringof blood in my veins as I stared up at the ceiling of this underground cathedral.
As I floated on my back I felt Ciaran place his hand at the base of my spine, holding me aloft. His other hand found my shoulder blade. Any time he touched me it burned with heat, even here in the frigid water. I closed my eyes and let myself float as Ciaran’s thumb brushed back and forth along my shoulder blade. I could feel his eyes dragging over my whole body, and goosebumps rose all over my flesh. I didn’t think it had anything to do with the temperature of the water.
“I’m glad I got to hear you sing tonight.” I pulled myself upright once more, bicycling my legs, knees knocking into Ciaran’s under the water. “Maybe one day we could…” I trailed off.
“Yes?” Ciaran looked eager to hear what I had to say next.
“Maybe one day we could sing together?” My stomach flipped. It wasn’t like I was suggesting anything intimate—but it felt like I was. It felt like the most intimate thing we could do. To sing together. To have our voices intertwined would be more intimate than almost anything I could think of. After years of being unable to sing in front of anyone it was almost… taboo.
“I would like that,” Ciaran said, tilting his head, looking at me with something that felt like awe.
OF SONGS
We dried off as best as we could. Ciaran held my hand the entire walk back to his apartment, only letting go when we climbed back up the ladder. But he didn’t so much as try to kiss me on the cheek before I disappeared into the bedroom. Nothing had happened. There was nothing different here. Yet itfelt different.Every brush of hands, every too long glance. We were going to have to address it at some point. This apartment was getting far too small.
But time went on, and we didn’t address it. Perhaps neither of us were brave enough to take that first step in acknowledging our feelings. I was still reeling from my life being upended entirely. I wasn’t exactly ready to have a relationship-defining conversation. Especially when I wasn’t sure what he wanted either.
Some days the tension between us was so thick you could practically taste it in the air. Every small interaction—reaching for the same coffee cup, sitting down on the couch beside one another—sent sparks flying. We were walking around like highly combustible kindling just waiting to catch fire.
Other days Ciaran was so busy with his duties to the city, and so absorbed with the comings and goings of his own life, that hebarely seemed to notice me. This made me even more confused. Compiled with my complicated feelings about the life I had left behind, and I was a mess.
Even through all that, I was also slowly starting to embrace life Beneath Lutesse. I attended Mal’s dance classes with Elena every week, and I found that I was getting good at it. Maybe better than good. My body may not have been made for ballet, but it was perfect for the kind of dancing we did there. My breasts, my hips, my thighs, even my curly hair all lent themselves naturally to the sensual burlesque cabaret style that Mal taught. No one shamed me for it; no one shamed anyone for anything in Mal’s class. She asked that we work hard and expected a lot from her students, but she would never have commented on someone’s body shape or size. It just didn’t matter. And that was refreshing. Even Madame Giselle, who had accepted me despite my “flawed body type,” was quick to point out those flaws regularly.
