We finished our laps, showered, and afterwards he found me in the kitchen, handing me a glass of electrolyte water and a protein bar. We didn’t talk about the party, or how nothing really ever goes back to normal right now. None of it would go anywhere because Sari will never change, and the community needs the event to get back on its feet after the death of Wilde.
All I could do is survive the best I could, and hope it heals the fracture so it never has to happen again.
This morning,I woke up with the usual dread, but it was thinner now, stretched out like taffy. I had a headache from last night’s sprints, but I got up and conjured some juice to level out my blood sugar. I took it to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, my hair a wild mat of tangles from sleep. For a second, Iconsidered hacking it off, but I sat down and started the work to get it back to manageable.
I’m not big on short hair, and my mental health isn’t so bad that I’m going to overreact like that.
Instead, I brush the tangles out of my wet hair and start braiding the tightly pinned crown around my head. I haven’t done this in a long time, but I might have to find an outlet that doesn’t involve mass murder or destruction of our home to work out some of my anger. When I finish the braids, I tug on the tights and the tank leotard, looking at the healed spot where the old mating marks used to be.
Rafe was ready long before I was. The exes and the extras are gone now, and the tattoos from everyone else. It’s odd to see only the three sets of marks on me. I didn’t heal any of the ‘lesson’ scars, so the ugly reminder on my collarbone still holds court when you see my bare shoulders.
C’est la vie.?1
I sit on the toilet and lace the ribbons, making them tight and firm, and then I don the tiny little wrap skirt.
I’m ready.
Flicking my fingers at the stereo system on the wall, I do a few stretches, getting my feet used to the shoes again so I don’t get a cramp. The playlist changes as I cross the room, whizzing in turns and leaps and spins as the music crests and falls. The shrieks of the strings and woodwinds make me move faster and push harder to get all the energy I’m holding inside out. The feel of my limbs moving, music, entrances me and I keep dancing, letting pirouettes and tour jetés make me feel like I’m flying.
For years, I danceden pointein more ballets than I can count. It always helped me get the emotions that roil through a teenager out, and now is no different. The sounds of the Valkyrie follow the first piece, and I imagine an epic battle and a brave Valkyrie fighting for the kingdom.
A little escapism isn’t that bad, right?
I hear the door open and, out of the corner of my eye, I see Talia padding in. I don’t stop; I just keep going until I’m panting and out of breath. Clomping over to where she’s sitting, I lean on the barre and breathe heavily, muscles screaming from overuse. I drop my head, resting my forehead on the wood, and look down at her.
She wiggles her fingers and gives me a quizzical look. “Be honest with me?”
Since I have no idea where this question is going, and it’s been a rough couple of days, I stretch my feet in the shoes while I stand. I may need to push back out there after this. “Always.”
“Is there any damn thing in the universe you can’t do like you’ve trained your entire life for it? I mean, Jesus Christ, woman. It’s hard not to feel like a second banana when you’re mated to a sorceress carrying a miracle baby that speaks several languages, has a genius-level IQ, sings like an angel, dances like a prima ballerina, talks to animals, and kills like she was born to hunt. I’m sure I’m leaving some shit out, too.”
I blink for a moment, not getting that she’s teasing me. I almost downplay everything, feeling like I’ve been a braggart when she laughs.
“Hell, you even take the blame for being talented so I don’t feel bad. You might be the most infuriatingly perfect woman I’ve ever met!”
I hear the humor in her voice, and give her a shy smile. “I rarely let people know all the things I can do. It makes them mad, I find.”
Talia leans against the mirror and laughs. “I’m shocked to hear that all these morons don’t enjoy finding out that they’re trying to squirm into the life of a woman who makes Da Vinci look like he was resting on his laurels. Color me amazed, baby.”
I’ve never been great at accepting praise. False bravado and swagger, yes, but not praise. “I, um, never showed the other mates everything. I can’t hide that I’m smart, but stuff like the magick or dancing or gymnastics or knitting or whatever. That kind of stuff I didn’t share. I mean, it would have caused problems.”
She shakes her head and yells into the air. “Taurus! Get your hands off my husband and come down here, you ego-driven pigeon!”
My eyes widen, and I shake my head, gesturing for her to stop. “Don’t interrupt them… this isn’t a big deal.”
“Hell yes, it is.” She bangs her foot on the floor and screeches, “Taurus, Stoat…I’m not kidding!”
The boys appear, looking askew and ruffled as they glare at us. Taurus wheels on his mate, not even noticing me, growling, “You’re having your time and I’m having mine. What the bloody hell is so damned important? It better be a missing limb.”
Rafe tugs at his elbow, tilting his head at me. “Look, mate.”
My husband turns on his heel, ready to bellow, and stops short. Giving me a slack-jawed look, he looks at me, then at Rafe and then at Talia. “Well, what in the seven hells is this?”
Talia grins. “She’s a ballerina. You've gotta see this.”
My primary sighs, his lips curving up. Of everyone on the earth and in the Rift, he alone knows all my secrets and hidden facts. He’s not a bit surprised I dance, only that I’m doing it again after so many years.
The bird tilts his head again, and I see the love in his eyes as he looks me over from head to toe. “Alright, minx. My primary says we should see the show; give us a show.”
