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“What are you doing?” Tyranny giggled. Her clawed fingers instinctively found their place at Wicander’s shoulder, her right palm neatly fitting into his lifted left.
Wicander hesitated. “Dancing?”
Tyranny should’ve expected this. She knew he never left the restraints of his house before. His idea of dancing consisted of marble ball rooms, bright lights, rigid postures and rehearsed steps.
This was entirely different.
Their troupe – albeit a still unfamiliar dynamic – decided to settle down at a tavern after hours on the road. Kattigan and Thimble were arguing about who could drink more, Teor’s only condition was to have a manageable space to keep an eye on all the doors and the candescent duo was deemed too inexperienced in the outside world to make any informed decision about their resting spot.
So, they settled on the first tavern they found.
Tyranny looked over her shoulder and watched other bar goers energetically dance in a circle, clapping along with the music, pulling on each other’s arms and laughing and twirling without any rhythm or coordination.
Even Kattigan swayed across the floor, one hand raised for Thimble to hold onto. She glittered and laughed and flew around Kattigan’s head to make him turn. Wulfric imitated the motion by his legs. He panted and barked and jumped up to get in on the dance.
The dim fires in the wall mounted iron sconces bathed the room in an orange glow. Their teal clothing stood out like a sore thumb; even more now that they were standing, unmoving, in the middle of the room.
“I can see that,” Tyranny said. She brushed her hand along Wicander’s collar to straighten the fabric. His skin was warm underneath. “Look around and tell me what you see.”
He did. Tyranny watched him and tried not to concentrate on the hand on her waist too much. He absent-mindedly brushed his thumb along the lining of her dress, right where her ribs started. The spot lit up like fireflies at the movement.
“Drunk people?” Wicander started. “Sweaty people… A band? What am I,” he shook his head with furrowed brows, “What am I looking for, exactly, Tyranny?”
She cocked her head. “They’re dancing, Wicander.”
“So are we.”
“Not really.”
Wicander looked down on himself. His hands stayed in place.
Tyranny patted the edge of his collarbone, the faint thump of a heartbeat echoing against her palm. “This isn’t a ballroom,” she tried to explain. “We’re not at a gathering or a gala or whatever it is you would do at home. We’re at a tavern with, as you rightly pointed out, sweaty drunk people.”
“What’s your point?”
Tyranny smiled. “You’re cute.”
The Filament in Wicander’s face faintly glowed along with the blush peppered across his cheeks and ears. His hand at her hip held her a little tighter.
“But not cute enough to act so dumb.” She tapped the tip of his nose before stepping back. She almost regretted it at the sight of Wicander’s arms still in the air, halfway reaching for her, making up for the space she left behind. “I’m saying there’s no rules here! No courtly dance required.”
She lifted her dress, revealed her hooves and side stepped, almost tripping over herself at the attempt of a twirl. Wicander watched the ruffles lift and circle her like halos as she clumsily danced in front of him.
“What am I supposed to do then?” He asked and reached out to steady her.
“I don’t know,” Tyranny sighed with a bright, forked smile. “Stomp your feet! Flail your arms! Twirl around! Just have some fun!”
Wicander hesitated, like he so often did. He looked back into the crowd, not a single pair of eyes trained on him except for the shiny yellow of his aspirant’s. In this light she almost seemed… human was the wrong word… she belonged. She was all smiles and movement and hope and light.
“I’ve never done this before,” Wicander reminded her. “Not like this.”
Tyranny laughed a loud and vivid laugh. “Me neither! But it’s worth trying, don’t you think?” She extended her hand. “I’ll lead this time.”
She was fire and light and all things good and honest.
She was hope and freedom.
Wicander took her hand and squeezed, holding onto her like a beacon in the dark.