𝗨𝗟𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗘 | 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝

𝐭𝐞𝐧: 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅, 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒖𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒆

♕

Cordelia and Dahlia ascended the steps to the raised cherrywood stage in the middle of the room. 

Kellington, standing beside them, clapped his hands, and the crowd began to quiet. James began to applaud loudly, and beside him, following his lead, Matthew did the same. Anna, snuggled next to Hypatia on the settee, also clapped, causing Kellington to glance toward her and frown. Hypatia looked back at him with wide, starry eyes and shrugged.

Kellington cleared his throat. "Honored guests," he said. "Tonight we have something unusual. Two Shadowhunters have offered to entertain us."

A murmur ran through the room. James and Matthew kept clapping, and a dark-haired vampire girl with bright combs in her hair joined in the applause. Anna leaned over and whispered in Hypatia's ear.

"Please enjoy the performance of the lovely Cordelia Carstairs and Dahlia Bridgestock," Kellington said, hastily turning to descend the stairs.

Cordelia laid a hand on his arm. "We will require you to accompany me," she said. "On the violin."

Kellington, looking annoyed, strode off to retrieve his instrument. As he moved through the crowd, Cordelia, looking far calmer than Dahlia suspected she was, reached up and unpinned her hair. 

"I'm going to do an old Persian dance mixed with a story, are you familiar with it?" she asked her. Dahlia smiled, "I believe I am. You are bold, Daisy." she said shaking her head lightly.

Dahlia shook her hair lightly, stashing her comb in the folds of her dress. 

"Cordelia Carstairs, please do the honors. We must bedazzle Matthew and James. Leave them gaping Daisy, gaping." said Dahlia smiling widely. Cordelia shook her head.

"I have always loved stories," she said, and her clear voice carried through the room. "One of my favorite tales is that of the servant girl Tawaddud. After the death of a rich merchant, his son wasted all the inheritance he got until he had nothing left but one servant, a girl known through all the caliphate for her brilliance and her beauty. Her name was Tawaddud. She begged the son to take her to the court of the caliph Harun al-Rashid, and there to sell her for a vast sum of money. The son insisted he could not get such a princely sum for the sale of one servant. Tawaddud insisted she would convince the caliph that there was no wiser or more eloquent or learned woman in all the land but she. Eventually the son was worn down. He brought her to the court, and she came before the caliph, and she told him this."

Cordelia nodded at Kellington, who had come to stand beside the stage. He began to play a haunting tune on the violin, and Cordelia began to move.

It was a dance, but not a dance. She moved fluidly with Cortana. It was gold and she followed that gold in fire. She spoke, and her low, husky voice matched the dance and the music of the violin.

"Oh my Lord, I am versed in syntax and poetry and jurisprudence and exegesis and philosophy. I am skilled in music and in the knowledge of the divine ordinances, and in arithmetic and geodesy and geometry and the fables of the ancients."

Cortana wove with her words, underlining each one with steel. She turned as her sword turned, and her body curved and moved like water or fire, like a river under an infinity of stars. 

"I have studied the exact sciences, geometry and philosophy, and medicine and logic and rhetoric and composition."

Cordelia sank to her knees. Her sword whipped around her, a narrow circlet of fire. The violin sang, and her body sang.

"I can play the lute and know its gamut and notes and notation and the crescendo and diminuendo."

"If I sing and dance, I seduce."  Cordelia straightened with a snap. Her eyes met the gaze of her audience, direct and challenging.