A Court of Rage and Fire

Chapter 17

Never before had Nesta danced so freely. Years of lessons had prepared her to conquer any ballroom, and dancing had always thrilled her, but this was so much better. The way she could move her body in any way she desired and meld free movement with practiced steps, the way Eris matched her every twirl and casually made space for her to dance with her friends or whirl around with any of the other dancers, it was all exhilarating.

And the music. Every note of the violins and pipes drew out a new emotion, but her favorite was the drum, beating through her chest and driving the speed at which they spun. She wished she had set up the Symphonia to record it—she supposed she could invite the musicians back to record them, but she was not sure it would be exactly the same without all the dancers to whip the band into such a glorious frenzy.

But as the music slowed and Nesta caught her breath, she felt a pull to go outside in the chilled night air. She was heated from the dancing and all the flame that followed Eris when he flowed through the movements. And it had been such an overwhelmingly full day—no one would fault her if she needed a moment to herself, to breathe and to process.

She made her excuses to Eris, whom it was still strange and new to think of as her husband, no matter how temporary. His offer to join her was tempting, but she knew they would never make it back to the party, and she wanted to enjoy the night for as long as possible. So she settled for her fingers lingering on his as she slipped away, a promise of later.

A servant proffered his tray of spiced wine to her. She'd had one for Beron's toast to them and sipped it through dinner, even though the toast had been incredibly uncomfortable for her. To a most fruitful union, he had said pointedly, and when she glanced at Eris during the toast his jaw was tight and his eyes stared straight ahead in his arrogant, cold courtier's mask. The wine had been a courtesy for the toast, and washed down dinner, but now she wanted a glass to make the stars and candlelight glitter a little more. Just one. It was her party and she felt safe and loved.

On her way to the door, she stuck her head in between Lucien and Elain, still seated at the banquet table. "Lucien, I don't know if you dance, but Elain, you have no excuse."

Elain frowned at the glass in her hand. "You're drinking."

"In moderation," Nesta said, flicking the nearly-empty glass in front of Elain. "Just like you."

Elain gave her a thin smile. It had been awkward at first, yesterday. The sisters had not seen each other since Nesta had made Elain cry, the day she left Velaris. They were tentative and spent Ada's party feeling each other out, but by this morning, when Elain tucked the Night Court flowers into her hair, it was as if nothing ever happened. They had never been apologetic in their family—it wasn't really like them to talk it out. They never needed to. Every one of the three sisters was proud, yet understood each other and how they each showed love and repentance in their own opaque ways. And though Nesta hated that Elain played the part of the Night Court's pet, she understood, in a way, that was how Elain survived. Just as she hoped Elain understood that Nesta survived by her teeth and claws and fierce incorrigibility.

"When I come back this way, you owe me one dance," Nesta said to her sister. "You can't tell a bride no. It's simply not done."

"Like you ever let anyone tell you no." Elain laughed then, clear as a bell, and Lucien visibly perked to hear it.

Nesta took one more sip of her wine, perhaps half-drained at this point, and left it at the table with Elain. "You can have it. You look like you need a refill anyway, and then you'll have no excuse but to dance with me."

Despite her reassurance to Elain, Nesta felt the second half-glass of wine by the time she was outside. Not drunk, not on less than two glasses. But after months of no alcohol at all besides a few sips with Eris, it was enough to warm her belly and make her feel a little buzzed.