Snowfall looked at Simus’s outstretched hand, and then into his eyes.

With anyone else she’d suspect that they were trying to make her out to be a fool. She hadn’t danced since her days in the thea camps. He could make her stumble, show her lack of grace...

But Simus’s eye were filled with hope, anticipation, and that joy that seemed to underline his every breath.

When did she become so certain that she could trust him?

It was confusing and yet it stirred something within her in return. An answering joy. A hope.

She stood, walked to him, and took his hand.

A murmur rose from the crowd as word passed back among the warriors.

Simus’s hand was warm in hers, his hardened calluses rough against her fingers. She gripped his hand tightly as she drew closer. “Warrior-priestesses do not dance,” she said to him softly.

But soft or not, her words were echoed through the crowd. Snowfall glanced at Essa, suddenly wary.

Simus squeezed her hand, as if in reassurance, and gave her a smile. “You are not what you were,” Simus said ignoring the echoes of his own words to focus on her face. “Or so Wild Winds has told us. I will teach you.”

Snowfall raised an eyebrow.

“It’s simple,” Simus faced her. “Nothing so complicated as our patterns.” He seemed very conscious of the echo, taking the time to explain his movements for those that could not see. “So we face each other, but our bodies do not touch. To be respectable in Xy, one must keep one’s distance.”

Snowfall watched as he took a position before her.

“I take your right hand in my left hand,” Simus said, holding their joined hands together and out to the side. “And my right hand goes here,” and he reached for the middle of Snowfall’s back. His fingers brushed the warm flesh between her corselet and her trous.

Snowfall gasped, allowing the slightest intake of breath between her parted lips. His fingers seemed to burn her. Her tattoos rippled over her arms and shoulders as seeking more of his touch.

Simus’s gaze dropped, and his lips curved in a sly, satisfied, irritating smile.

“And my left hand?” Snowfall prompted.

“Goes on my upper arm,” Simus said. “Now we shift a bit so that we are off-center, so our knees and feet don’t knock together.”

Snowfall adjusted her position slightly, glancing down to see the positioning of their knees and feet. Simus glanced around, and she realized that some of the warriors around them were standing and mimicking their actions.

“Our arms act as a frame for our movements. Now count with me, and watch my feet,” Simus said. “You must step backward in an opposite motion.”

“Why must I step backward?” Snowfall demanded.

“Because you are the woman,” Simus said. “The males ‘lead’.”

“You lead by pushing me backward?” Snowfall asked, and laughter rose as her words echoed around them.

“Watch now,” Simus admonished. “Step forward, side-step, feet together, step forward, side-step, feet together.”

Snowfall put her head down, watching their feet.

“One, two, three,” Simus chanted. “One, two, three,” he said and then brought them to a stop. “Do you have it?” he asked, glancing over at Essa.

Snowfall looked up. “I think so—” she started.

Essa raised his hand, drums sounded—

Simus swept Snowfall off into the dance, swirling them both around the Heart.

 

 

Simus felt her gasp through his fingers rather than heard it, but other than a slight stumble at first, Snowfall flawlessly matched his movements. Simus waited until she was a bit more confident, then he started to move them about the Heart in a slow circle in time with the music.

For a moment it was as if they floated there on the Heart, the dark sky above reflected in the glitter of Snowfall’s eyes as she looked into his. Simus sighed with pleasure at the sight, and drew her closer. She felt good in his arms as they moved as one, the sweet scent of her skin filling his senses. He drew her closer—

Snowfall stopped the dance, and pushed him away. “You said that bodies do not touch,” she pointed out and he had to laugh as those words echoed around them. Laughter rose from the crowd.

“Truth,” he said, standing there, feeling the loss of her in his arms.

“Again,” Essa demanded.

“This time,” Snowfall said, grabbing his right hand, “I lead.”

Laughter rose at her words, but Simus willingly conceded control to her, only to discover how hard it was to move backward with any grace. But he only stumbled a bit before he caught on. Snowfall lead him in a graceful swirl around the Heart.

“The male always leads?” Snowfall asked. She had a look of concentration as she led him through the dance.

“Yes,” Simus smiled at her. “It is the way of Xy.”

“Foolishness,” Snowfall said sharply.

Simus shrugged. “It is their way.” He grinned at her. “Besides, there is a practical reason.” He stopped dancing and the music stopped. “Xyians do not dance alone,” Simus called out. “They would fill the entire Heart. Who will join us?”

Yers jumped up, holding his hand out to pull a protesting Elois to her feet. Other couples ran forward as well, not all from his people, Simus was glad to see.

“What is the pattern?” Essa called, for he had joined the dancers with a partner.

“There is none,” Simus said.

“How do they avoid running into one another?” a warrior called.

“I don’t know,” Simus laughed. “They usually just got out of my way.”

The drums sounded again, and the couples started to dance.

Snowfall lead again, and it was a struggle. “Ah, I see,” she said. “The male leads because it’s easier for the taller partner to watch for obstacles. That makes more sense.”

Simus nodded. “It requires an awareness of the enemy, for the one who leads watches. If I may?” he asked, and they reversed their hands, and swirled with the music.

Soon it seemed that all the warriors were dancing, except a few old fools Simus saw glowering at him. But he paid no attention. He had the lovely Snowfall in his arms, and the very skies seemed to sparkle in approval.

He glanced out over the crowd, at the warriors dancing on the Heart and around it. “What would it be like, if we could get them all dancing?”

He heard a soft, short, snort of a laugh, and looked down quickly. But Snowfall’s face was calm and serene. “Did you just laugh?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she replied. “Warrior-priestesses do not laugh.”

Simus rolled his eyes at her, and swirled them around again.

Essa raised his hand and the music speeded up, the drums pounding faster. Around and around they danced, Simus watching carefully to keep them from a collision. But it was inevitable, and three couples spilled off the Heart on to the grass, laughing as they struggled up from an untidy heap.

“Enough,” cried Essa. “Let us see a pattern.”

The Heart cleared to allow the more traditional dancers to perform.

Simus walked back to his people, joined by Yers and Elois, both laughing as they settled back down. Snowfall took her place beside him. Someone passed forward skins of fermented mare’s milk, but Simus waved them away. He was content, with his people around him, the stars above, and pattern dances that would go late into the night.

And if Snowfall was looking at him with a new light in the depths of her eyes, well, he would count that a win as well.

 

 

Snowfall felt breathless as she took her place beside Simus. She could still feel the tingle on her palm and her waist from his touch. She drew deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. But it didn’t help that she could still smell him, a mixture of metal, leather, sword oil, and sweat. She bit her inner lip, and set about to calm her mind and body.

It was interesting, to watch him interact with his people, with Yers and Elois. He was still scanning the crowd as well; looking for Joden no doubt. The man had a deep sense of loyalty to his own.

Was that what made her trust him?

She fully expected the invitations he received, from warriors that asked him to join in their patterns. But he declined all of them with a friendly laugh and a smile. He even refused to join Yers in a battle dance.

She said nothing, but after a while, he caught her gaze and chuckled. “You wonder that I do not dance?”

She gave him the slightest of nods.

He faced forward. “The other Warlord candidates are not dancing either.”

She casually looked around, and searched her memory of the night. “They have not,” she confirmed.

“Not stupid enough to get themselves hurt dancing. We of the Plains do everything with abandon, and to risk injury so close to the end of the Trials is foolhardy,” Simus pointed out. “A pulled muscle, a sprain, could make all the difference tomorrow.”

“Ah,” Snowfall said.

“Besides, you can learn a great deal about a warrior by how they dance a pattern.” Simus gave her another smile, his eyes warm. “And I would deprive them of that knowledge.”

Snowfall glanced over to where Ietha was talking to Nires. Wyrik stood with them, glaring at Simus. “A good point,” she said softly.

“Praise?” Simus straightened, and placed his hand over his heart. “My dear Token-bearer, I—”

“Enough.” Essa was standing in the middle of the Heart, and once again his words were being echoed. “Let the drums go silent and the dancing end. Seek your beds. The morrow brings the final challenges.”