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I raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re just saying that.’
‘Really, I’m not,’ he retorted, beaming.
‘I think we can leave the waltz for now, but there are many more dances for you to learn. Are you familiar with the dances of the late eighteenth century?’ Sky asked. We came to an abrupt halt and I wobbled on the spot, relying on Fabian’s steady hand to keep me upright. I looked at Sky, dumbfounded and mute. There was a wistful sigh from the corner.
‘Ah, the minuet. My forte,’ Jag said, coming forward.
Three hours later and I knew more dances than I had eaten hot dinners in my life, from so many eras of time that I felt like I was getting more of a history lesson than a dance lesson.
‘Remember, this one is called the Sauteuse. Now we must move on to etiquette,’ Sky said as I broke hold, relieved at the prospect of a rest: the joints in my elbows had rusted into place, leaving them stiff and sore.
‘Etiquette?’
‘Yes. Etiquette is as important as the steps of a dance. And stop looking so abashed, it is quite simple really,’ Sky snapped, clearly displeased at my tired expression. ‘First rule: a lady may never ask a gentleman to dance. She must wait to be asked. No exceptions.’
‘How sexist,’ I muttered, irritated and desperate to unpeel the shoe straps from the skin on my ankle.
‘Yes. It is sexist,’ Sky replied. ‘Second rule: if you wish to decline a dance, do so politely and timidly. Yes, timidly, Miss Lee, something that is clearly not in your repertoire.’
I had opened my mouth to question it but he beat me to it and was rewarded with a snort of laughter from the corner, where Kaspar stood.
‘Now, this is the most important part: curtseying. It is quite simple for you. On account of the fact you are human, you must curtsey to every partner, both before and after the dance. Aristocracy will bow back, royalty will not.’
I scowled. All curtseying and etiquette seemed to be was a humiliating, degrading exercise, designed to remind me of the fact I was human. But when I was about to voice that thought, the smile on Fabian’s face stopped me, leaving me tongue-tied. I can’t spoil this for him, I thought. Vampire or not.
‘It is also essential that if a member of the royal family app-roaches you, you are especially courteous to them. Understood?’
I nodded. At this rate, I’ll be half-crouched all night. ‘How will I know if someone is royalty? And what if I dance with a human? Do I have to curtsey then?’
‘Look for the coat of arms. But I highly doubt you will encounter any humans. They tend to stick with those they are familiar with.’
My heart sunk a fraction. One of the reasons I had agreed to go was to talk to, or at least see another human. To just glance at a set of normal teeth seemed like a dream.‘Why?’ I asked, trying to keep the gloom from my voice.
Sky threw back his head and laughed. ‘Why? Miss Lee, they told me you were intelligent.’ I blushed. ‘For safety, of course. There are upwards of …’ He glanced at Jag, who nodded, and I realized they must have entered one another’s minds. ‘Upwards of a thousand vampires in attendance at this ball. It is paramount that any human, including you, are not alone, not even for a moment. So do not wander far from our presence.’
I stared at my feet, scuffing the bottom of Lyla’s shoes on the floor. I knew it wasn’t safe. But it would be safer at the ball than it would be alone in my room. Seeming satisfied, Sky turned back to the piano.
‘Now, there is just time to go through these dances once more. Fabian, if you will …’
We ran through every dance once more, the vampires scrutinizing every tiny movement, correcting every minute mistake, until they were finally satisfied.
‘Now the waltz. Kaspar, you are our expert, would you lead?’ Kaspar stepped forward, but I backed off, wary.
‘Why do I have to dance with him?’ I asked, eyeing his movements as he swaggered towards me.
‘Because I have to ensure you are good enough to dance in a royal court, Girly. Royal, Girly, royal,’ Kaspar drawled in his aggravatingly patronizing voice.
‘Kaspar here is quite a dancer, near as accomplished as our father,’ Sky explained, proudly. Reluctantly, I inched closer, my eyes never leaving his, as a more and more devilish smile formed on his lips. But he stopped and waited and took a step back when I came close.
‘Do it properly. Curtsey,’ he said. I bobbed down, not doing it ‘properly’, but in the second I took my eyes off him he had darted forward, pulling me towards him. He forced my hand to entwine with his, whilst he placed his other hand a little too firmly on my waist.
‘Oh, “accomplished” are we?’ I imitated in a low voice so only he could hear. ‘Why didn’t you teach me how to dance then?’
‘Watching gives a far better view.’ His eyes very deliberately slid down to my chest and his lips cracked into a smirk. ‘Nice top.’
I grunted in disgust. The music began playing and a chill passed down my spine. We began whirling, but my feet struggled to find the rhythm, because the piece was slower and darker than any waltz we had previously practised to.
Suddenly, we had broken hold and Kaspar was holding me at arms’ length. I panicked and looked at him in alarm.
‘Turn!’ he snapped. I turned under his arm; as I did, he pulled be back towards him until we were stood chest-to-chest, one of my hands caught in his high in the air, the other wrapped around his back.
‘This isn’t part of a waltz!’ I hissed at him.
‘No, it isn’t,’ he replied, looking down at me through darkening eyes. ‘But I like variety. Get used to it.’ He twirled me around again and we returned to the hold, gliding around the floor.
‘This isn’t very gentlemanly of you.’ To my surprise, he cracked a smile – and a genuine one at that.
‘Very true. But we aren’t at a ball, so tough luck.’ At that moment, the music began to fade away and we retreated away from one another. I curtsied and Kaspar turned away.
‘Well?’ a low, raspy voice asked. My heart skipped a beat. The King had appeared from nowhere, standing in the shadows of the room, face hidden in shadow. I curtsied, and Fabian and Declan bowed.
‘She’ll do,’ Kaspar replied. The King nodded, thoughtfully, eyes never leaving me. I turned away, uncomfortable, and I felt his stare on my back for a moment more as everybody left. Lyla paused and I tugged my feet out of her heels, handing them back. When she had gone, I limped over to the piano stool, wincing as I put my flat shoes back on.
Why am I even doing this? Why am I letting myself get close? Everyday the image of the slaughtered hunters faded away and I found myself struggling to remember that these were the same vampires that had ripped them apart … these vampires that I had just danced with.
I shivered, chilled to the bone. The cool gloss of the grand piano seemed to mock me, as my pale, frightened reflection stared back. My eyes were even wearier these days, and I sighed. It wasn’t just the memory of the London Bloodbath that was fading. So was the hope of getting out of Varnley.
We’ll get you out of there, Violet, but it’s going to take time …
My father’s parting words haunted me. I was waiting it out all right. But how much longer could I last? Could I last months? I had promised my father I would, but it was already September and my resolve wasn’t as concrete as it had been.
I hit a few random notes on the piano, not really intending to play anything. But the isolation of the room began to play tricks on my mind, and I needed that comforting