Dance With the Enemy Read Free Page B

to shine. Make haste, lad.”
    Tahruk turned in the doorframe to see the moonlight beginning to creep in through the garden door. Only Nema, who knew him even better perhaps than his own mother, understood the flash of emotions that played across his handsome face before his warrior’s mask dropped firmly into place.
    “Do not wait up, Nema, for the lady I bring home will surely not be my own,” he practically growled. He looked at her one more time, then turned, a confident stride removing him from her presence where he pushed out into the night, wishing the moonlight would wash away the churning he felt inside.

 
    Chapter 3

     
    Arms lifted, Elenya allowed her gown to slide into place, the silk whispering down her body making her shiver. The corisan assigned to help her giggled behind a discreetly lifted hand. She leaned in to whisper something to the innocent maiden.
    “Tonight you will know the feel of a man’s hands instead, my lady.” Her voice was as silky as the material she’d slipped over Elenya’s head. “That first touch is something you will not soon forget.”
    Elenya shook again, though for different reasons. Eyes lowered, she remained quiet, hopeful the other woman with her heavily kohled eyes and lips tinted a deep red would understand the subject was not one she wished to discuss. Nor did she want to look the part of a harlot as so many of the other maidens did as they prepared for the Dremis Ceremony. She was already bound to one of the warriors, had been since she was three through the marking that would allow him to find her when she became of age. Why then must she be paraded before the warriors of the Centrehead at all?
    With a touch none too soft, the corisan lifted a brush to Elenya’s honeyed-cinnamon hair and began the tedious task of untangling the thick crop of curls that fell down her nearly bare back.
    “It’s a pity this gown was designed to cover your lovely hair, my lady.” She ran a strand of Elenya’s tresses between her fingers. “This exact hue has not been seen since the days of Princess Damalenya, I’m told. In fact, had your mother’s hair been slightly darker, she would have been the one chosen…”
    “Ceeda!” The voice of the head mistress stopped the woman’s wagging tongue. The heavyset woman strolled toward the pair, her curled fists thrust into what had once been her waist. “Folklore is best left to the story tellers, not the corisans of the Dremis maidens.”
    The green spheres of Elenya’s eyes darted between the two women as she stared at their images in the reflective glass. The older woman’s mouth barely shifted from the tight line, only a brow lifted above one eye to emphasize her statement. The impact of her words, however, was as clear as if she had shouted. Elenya’s corisan bobbed, her dark hair falling over a bared shoulder as she curtsied to the head mistress. She kept her eyes averted until the older woman turned and the sound of her footsteps could be heard on the far side of the room. Only then did she look at Elenya’s reflection and roll her eyes.
    “Close your mouth, dear. Such is unbecoming to a lady.”
    Neither is your smirk, Elenya thought, though she did as instructed -- more out of surprise than propriety. She was glad this girl did not belong to any of the families she would most likely be paired with. She was certainly nothing like the Lady Larina who had accompanied her on the trip from Aleone. She had been every bit a lady, even given her position as mistress to many as one of the Ladies of the Courts. Elenya wallowed in the loneliness she’d felt ever since they had been separated upon their arrival in the Centrehead. She hoped women like Ceeda were the exception. Surely such behavior would not be tolerated if displayed more than rarely.
    Her mind went immediately to Cerissa, another woman she’d met on the trip from Aleone. They’d picked her up along with others at one of the two stops made to take on additional