The Clepsydra

Chapter 15

Aidan seems to smoothly go from walking to dancing, the action as easy as if he was putting on a hat. He places a gentle hand on my waist, my chest suddenly constricting at the sensation of his other hand sliding into mine so that he can lead me around the allocated dance floor. His movements are graceful and full of surety, the confidence he exudes putting me at ease from the tension I don't realize I have been feeling before his appearance.

"Do you practice dancing during your free time? Or is it another one of those extracurricular training sections the Clepsydra practise? I find it difficult to imagine James and yourself, hand in hand, taking it in turns to sweep the other off his feet. I mean, you seem to find this all rather simple and easy."

A smile cracks open on his face as he momentarily lowers his gaze from mine, first sweeping me out before spinning me back towards him. His hand moves back to where it was before, my hand meeting his before he has the chance to take it. His turquoise eyes seem lighter than usual, the part where the bronze around his pupils disappears into a blue-green easy to see with our close proximity.

"My mom taught me actually. She refused to have me brought up being the guy who sat out at social events. I moaned and groaned throughout her lessons, but...I'm rather glad right that I suffered through it now."

He looked at me then, his eyes and smile softening kindly and I feel like I have a small, wildly excited bird trapped in my ribcage. Am I getting sick? Is my skin supposed to be prickling where his hand makes contact with the thick, pastel blue and embroidered fabric of my dress?

He sweeps me around again, the hand on my waist bringing me closer as a couple spin near to us. The world around me is fading slightly, the colours brightening while the background blurs. The music playing moves right through me, as if my body is a medium for the sound to travel through and not just the air. I find myself laughing out loud as the song reaches a climax, feeling Aidan tighten his grip on my hand and waist while his eyes meet my own. I'm getting caught up in this fantastical moment, seeing what I think to be endearment flicker in his brilliant hues watching me before he brings his head closer, our foreheads almost touching.

His hand tightens around my waist as we sway to avoid another couple, pulling me even closer so that nothing but a gap suitable for a fist fits between us. My breath catches in my throat, the little bird beating its wings even more fanatically. I can feel my pulse quicken, the tempo it causes matching the pace of music as I smell the aroma of what can be described as a fresh ocean breeze rolling in on a quiet Sunday afternoon with how the proximity between us is less than usual. I can also catch the scent of lemongrass and fallen rain, a pure, masculine smell that comes after a dark thunderstorm is rolling away to reveal sunlight.

Unfortunately, as per my usual and ever increasing bad fortune, good things don't want to last for as long as I wish them to.

I'm brought down from the hazy vision I have sneaked into, the music suddenly going off in multiple wrong directions. The catastrophic sound some instruments are making completely mismatch the others, the combination causing me to grimace and squeeze my eyes shut. That's not what harshly brings me back down to earth though.

It's the two pairs of hands with a grip like manacles around each of my upper arms which attempt to rip me from Aidan's grip.

Aidan tears his gaze away from my face, his expression of kindness and something I can't quite identify morphing into horror and then anger. His gently arching brows furrow together while his blue-green hues go dark and thunderous. It's the kind of look that makes me know that things are about to get real and most likely deadly for those people stupid enough to get on his bad side.

"What in the world do you think you're doing?!" He demands, pulling me back from their grip and hauling me behind him. I can see his hand instinctively go to the side where a sword belt would hang, his hand meeting fresh air and curling into a fist when his brain comes to the conclusion that his sword is not with him. His mouth forms a thin, firm line while his teeth clench together visibly.