Nada's Escape

82- Bugg.

There's an itch under my skin telling me to keep moving. Escape the gaze of Josef. Steer clear of Finley. Tell the girls I'll be late. Find distractions. But I have three and a half more hours of this so I force myself to slow down, to focus on the conversation of the Huntsmen mothers around me.

Alex whispers over her son's heavy head, "And he looked at me and said, 'But mummy the wall's pretty like you now.' It's impossible not to melt at that." The two Huntswomen beside me coo. Beside Alex another one holds her belly, lashes wet. Maybe this isn't the best conversation for me to be in. They're worms and weepers all.

"Excuse me," I mouth and spin out to survey the rest of the party. Had I thought the crowd was getting thinner? It doesn't feel like it. My head swims for a moment.

I must be dehydrated. I take a swig of my drink, finally used to the taste and the cold-but-warm feel of it. I should find the others.

I spot Mildrith, her three tiaras towering over everyone. To my left, Martin is still chatting to the warden with a tray of glasses. Closer to the doors, Finley and Amy have vanished but Josef fills the space, talking sternly to Stacey's dour sponsor. I break off towards the food tables, now laden with sweet concoctions. Percival's here, turning his sickly smile on me but I scarper past before he can catch me.

In the thick of the hall there's a huddle of wardens who turn to glare at me as I stand on tiptoe, trying to look for Macie or the others. But it's like they've turned to mist. I turn towards the dancefloor, ignoring the feel of the warden's glares warming my back.

I scan the dozen couples pacing across the floor, finding Penny and Henry swaying by the stage. I tiptoe through the dancers to them, tapping Penny on the shoulder.

"Have you seen the others?"

Penny turns her glassy eyes on me as she shakes her head. I frown, fascinated at the way Henry edges away from her in irregular increments. Perhaps it's time for her to go... I ponder.

Penny gives Henry a sticky look and whines, "Another?" Not yet then. But soon.

I give Henry a stern look, "Don't forget about the sleepover."

Darcell waves to me from the far end of the stage. Brilliant, one person I don't need to run away from. I slide closer along the stage edge. Darcell too leans a shoulder on the stage, running a hand through his hair.

He grins and asks, "Want to dance?"

"What?" I respond reflexively, forgetting where I am. I'm not in PE, shooting daggers at the boy opposite, watching him stumble self-consciously.

This is Norgara where they teach boys to dance before they can walk. For a good dancer would be light on their feet in battle. There is no self-doubt because they are taught that they are the masters of the universe. I know all this and yet the confidence is alien, confusing.

I laugh nervously, "Nah, I'm okay."

If anything, the intensity of Darcell's suave increases at the rejection, "Come on. What else are you gonna do?" He holds out his hand like a challenge. My resolution tumbles like a paper boat in a gale. What the hell. He has a point; might as well get a new experience out of Josef's deadline.

"Well I guess I was gonna leave. But I can't. So I guess..." I shrug, taking his hand. It's warm.

He leads me away from the stage, to an empty space beyond Penny's close embrace with Henry. Scanning the score of other couples, I realise they're also all dancing extremely close. Is that a ballroom position? I don't know if I can, or even want to, dance like that.

"Ever danced a Swedish bugg?" Darcell asks and confusion must be clear on my face as he waves away the question before I can answer. "It's easy."

I hadn't considered how out of my league I would be in knowledge and technique, so with a new brand of nervousness I eye his other proffered hand. I accept, haphazardly trying to remember which hand goes where. Darcell ignores whatever protocol might bring us closer together and keeps a relaxed hold only both my hands before him.

He closes his eyes, swaying slightly to the music. "What are you doing?" I ask, worrying into my lip.

"Finding the time," he answers simply.

I chuckle, glancing at my watch. His face carries the same seriousness from the training room though, and I realise he means the tempo. The music is light and rhythmic, I notice. Mirroring his tiny movements, I realise that the beat is slower than it sounds; a pulsing heartbeat underneath a flurry of plucked strings.

He starts with baby steps and I try to follow, looking at his feet to avoid being distracted by his gaze. I succeed for the most part, but still our dance doesn't glide by like the movies. I'm panicking that I don't know how to do this, which I don't. Are our heads too close, what's the next move, left or right or back or spin? The hem of my dress pulls and I almost topple. Me, physically off balance due to something tiny like that. Our knees clash together and Darcell's feet almost descend on my own, time after time.

"Sorry, so sorry."

"All good, no worries."

For moments it's brilliant though. Like I've become a liquid conduit for the cadence, seamlessly one entity with Darcell.

I spin away and all I can see is the giant swirl of my skirt, a hundred green thalwegs spread beneath my flight. There's nothing in my way for a couple of effortless seconds. It is a tapestry of these moments, awesome and awkward, so that I'm sure I could enjoy this if only I were a little better.

The gap between songs is marked by a bubble of conversation. Darcell steps nearer in the opening bars of the next song. I don't realise how near until he whispers into my ear. "So what changed your mind?"

I sigh, trying to pay attention to the movements of my feet, "Josef. I can't leave."

"He's a bastard, that's for sure. And most of your friends have gone. No wonder you're bored enough to hang with me."

I lean back, catching sight of his face to make sure he's joking. He is, but he takes the opportunity to deepen my dip. The panic of almost falling seizes me for a second before I verify that he's caught me.

"What and you don't have better places to be either?" I keep my tone sarcastic, not revealing my relief to be standing entirely on my own feet again. He laughs and sends me out on another spin, where one-foot tangles behind the other, slowing me to a stumble.

"Sorry," he whispers when I slot back into his arms. "Why does Josef care how long you stay at a stupid party?"

"He wants me integrating into Huntsmen society," I reply grudgingly.

"That's crazy!" Darcell replies and I spend a moment focused on a complicated manoeuvre, barely gliding through it on the coattails of Darcell's experience. It strikes me that this is a perfect allegory of what the Huntsmen want from us Seveners. To slot right into their lives, following their lead like good little lambs. Is that why the Huntsmen adore dancing so much? For the band's gained a couple of musicians and the numbers on the dance floor are swelling to match the new sound.

"Well at least this is the perfect cover. You look like you're doing exactly what he asked, but really you're plotting his downfall. There's plenty of Huntsmen who'd have him removed as chair if they had the chance." Darcell's half joking, half serious now, or perhaps I'm losing the ability to tell anymore.

Still, the concept intrigues me as a thought exercise and as a way to while away the gala hours. So I continue Darcell's train of thought, chuckling and dancing with a bare quarter of my previous attention. Somehow I stumble no more for it.