THE DANCING GIRL

Chapter 6

NOOR fussed with her dress, going over the new steps in her mind. It wasn't the first time they'd learnt a dance the day before their performance, but this was one where it would be extremely unlucky to mess up.

At least they looked good.

Their costume was a bright blue, brighter than the sky, the kind of color she'd only seen in paintings of the ocean hung around the palace. It was accessorized with gold jewelry, and thankfully wasn't the most revealing. Most of her rib cage was covered.

Nazrat was 'feeling better'. Or, as everyone had understood, their best dancer had been ordered to push aside her illness to make a good impression on the foreign dignitaries. As a result, Nazrat was crankier than ever, and everyone, except her twin, was keeping distance.

Everyone around them was practicing the dance. Noor could see the nerves written all over them. No one wanted to mess up.

"Noor," Haqiya said, walking towards her. Haqiya did look beautiful. The color suited her.

"Yes?" Noor said.

"The dignitaries are Enyan."

Noor nodded. So Amir had been right.

"I heard from them," Haqiya said, gesturing at the group behind them. "They heard from the servants."

"Anything specific about these Enyan dignitaries?" Noor asked.

Haqiya shrugged. "They don't seem hostile."

"Perhaps they're here to build peace," Noor said.

Haqiya nodded. "Perhaps. Oh," she said suddenly, "Have you heard?" Her eyes were wide.

"What?" Noor asked, grinning at the look on her face.

Haqiya looked around and leaned in. "Yesterday, some dancers went to check on Nazrat. They heard someone else in her room."

Noor blinked. "What?"

Haqiya nodded excitedly. "Nazrat has a lover!"

Noor tilted her head to the side. "Well, you know, maybe it was just a friend. It doesn't have to be a lover."

Haqiya shook her head solemnly. "It was definitely a lover."

Noor decided to not ask how she knew. She shrugged. "Nazrat is entitled to a lover, you know. And stop prying into her life."

Haqiya shrugged. "I'm not prying. Everyone's curious to know who it is."

Noor sighed. "Well, I'm not."

Before she could say anything more, they heard Nihaal call them to line up. Nazrat's throat must still be sore, then.

Noor got in line and they walked to the hall, praying to Paishi, the god of grace, and Qarzha, the god of luck, the entire time. They stopped, and Nihaal said the customary line to Paishi before the doors opened.

Noor looked around the glittering durbar. Sher Butnam and Sher Rakim were there, as well as the Rajkumars. Not the Maharaja. Beside them were three white-skinned men. The foreign dignitaries, she assumed.

She knew everyone else was staring at them as well. No one had ever seen men with such pale skin and light hair. Some Al-Yauzhans were fair, but not of these colors. The men had skin like the blinding sun and golden hair. Their eyes—their eyes were took her breath away. Shades of greens and blues like Noor had never seen.

She tore her eyes away for just a moment to look at Rajkumar Vikram.

His eyes were on her.

Still watching her, he waved a hand regally, and the music began.