Glass

Chapter Three: Before Midnight (Part I)

I tried to speak to fill the silence between us as we danced in perfect sequence, but all words escaped me. What could I possibly say that would make me seem poignant, confident, endearing, and above all else, in any way charming? As much as I was immersed in her company, a part of me hoped that she would step away from this dance without a single opinion of me. I'd rather have no acknowledgement than the acknowledgement that I was a fool.

"You're shaking." She observed aloud.

Panic struck me. No matter what I did then, I could not hide the fact anymore that I was a complete coward - an embarrassment to my father's name. Quick, I thought, say something to take her mind from it. Make yourself appear calm and collected, intelligent and witty.

"Oh. That's strange."

Let me die.

"Don't worry," the woman said, her voice like calm waves, "I'm nervous too."

While half of me remained cringing, the other half was somewhat relaxed by her reassurance. I stayed quiet, afraid of saying something stupider, but the silence grew longer and so did my discomfort. The woman continued,

"I'm not used to being around so many people."

With those words, it was as though she had stopped time.

"Me neither." I chuckled nervously, my face hibiscus red.

"A Prince of Mendessa? Unused to company?" She pondered over the thought. Panic struck again - did she think I was lying?

We turned in unison, stopping where our hands touched. From there, we circled each other, legs outstretched and feet pointed like vultures circling a feast. The music was slow, strangely sensual, as we circled, face to face, though hers was still an anonymous blur. The strings livened for a split second - preparing us for what was yet to come.

"I lived a sheltered life." I admitted almost too comfortably. As we stopped in place, she responded.

"As did I."

The tempo was changing, and we both knew what was next. The Dance of the Feathered Serpent - a dance that persisted since before even my grandfather's time. One person would play the part of the feathered serpent, sly yet insatiable for the kill. The other would play the prey, agile and alluring. The dance was a dynamic display of movement, often ending in the feathered serpent "capturing" their prey with...

Oh no. I forgot about that part.

The feathered serpent would end the dance capturing their prey with a kiss.

I didn't have much time to decide. On one hand, I could be the prey, at the mercy of this woman. It seemed she was more fit to lead than I was, and besides, the role of something meek and exposed reflected exactly what I was feeling in that moment.

A thousand eyes stared at me. My parents stared at me.

But if I was to be the feathered serpent, I wouldn't risk revealing myself as a pushover. I could play the part that all of these people expect of me, most of all my father. However, if I was to fail in my portrayal, it would risk lifelong embarrassment.

The music swelled to a crescendo of fast and intricate strums.

It seemed that both of us had opted for the feathered serpent.

The rhythm bounced of the walls as my heels tapped against marble, circling one way why she circled the other. Her glass shoes clattered wildly, every step somehow elegant enough to stop the glass from breaking. We opened out our arms and turned, a battle of equals playing out on the ballroom floor in front of everyone. Fully engaged, I refused to stop and look for my father, lest his expression would nerve me back into the state of the dance's prey.