Dancing with Danger

With a slightly sheepish expression, Gaz peered around the open door.

‘That was easier than I thought,’ he muttered before looking over at the pair, ‘we’re wrapping up for the night.’ He explained.

‘We’re all done here,’ Lore nodded, waving Wynter away, ‘go and enjoy the last dances.’

‘Oh,’ Wynter shook her head, ‘I won’t be dancing,’ she couldn’t imagine anything worse, or more likely to make her a target for trouble or Malachi if any of his men were in the area.

‘Ah,’ Gaz had sauntered across the room ‘you can have just a dance,’ he smiled and offered her his hand. ‘There’s only the regulars, no one I don’t know. Whatever you’re running from, they’re not outside. Come, have some fun.’

‘I’ll keep Shadow company,’ Lore snuggled the puppy close to her chest and Wynter felt the pressure from the pair of them. In truth, she’d heard the lively burst of dance music through the door every time that it had opened. It had called to her. She was tired, but she’d always enjoyed dancing.

She bit her bottom lip. Moving on from Malachi, starting a new life. It means having a new life and doing the things that she enjoyed. She gave a slow nod and accepted Gaz’s hand. The Innkeepers features lifted with a mischievous smile that helped her feel at ease as she followed him out into the taproom.

Walking into the bar area was like stepping into a different world. Just as hot as the kitchen but without the fresh breeze from the open window and doors. The door and window to the tavern were open, but there were still too many people for any of the heat to slip away.

The air was smoky, heady with the scent of alcohol. It seemed to pulse with the merry rhythm of music, mingling with the loud conversations and even louder laughter between patrons. Nervous, she held onto Gaz’s hand, peering around at the groups of people who remained.

He was right, the crowd had thinned to half the amount that it had been throughout the evening. Still, she peered at the groups of revellers as they passed by, and felt herself starting to relax. She didn’t recognise anyone.

The dance floor was busy, with the band announcing the last two songs, as Gaz had promised. Wynter took a breath and moved around to face the man as the first chords of a country dance struck up. He bowed and she curtseyed in reply.

She’d grown up with the dances of the nobility, but in her earlier years had been friends with a number of the servants of House Alana. Friendly enough to share dances with them in the open meadows surrounding the Keep and its tall brick towers.

Whilst she wasn’t an expert, she knew enough of the steps to keep up with Gaz as they followed the pattern of the dance. At least for the first two rounds, before the repetitious steps were committed to memory, and she could really enjoy herself.

For most of the dance, they didn’t make contact with one another. Their hands, along with all other couples, were held behind their back. Until it was time to make a turn, at which point they gently clasped hands and skipped down the line of dancers and back again.

One the third round, they changed partners and Wynter found herself opposite a young woman with long dark hair in twisting curls. Taller than any woman Wynter had ever met. There was something otherworldly about her beauty. Although it felt understated in her simple dark dress and easy manner.

The woman grinned at her as she made her bow, ‘not enough men fit for dancing so late,’ she rolled her eyes and Wynter grinned back.

‘Then it will be a pleasure to dance with you,’ Wynter dipped into a curtsey, there was something familiar about the woman, something she couldn’t put her finger one. ‘Can I ask your name?’ She asked as they stepped forward to one another.

‘Oh, I have a lot of names,’ the woman winked, and Wynter struggled to place her age. She’d initially thought the girl was her own age, yet closer she seemed far older. ‘You can call me Falcon.’

‘Bella,’ Wynter replied automatically and hated herself for the necessary lie. They’d twisted away from each other and now turned back. Falcon’s expression was serious as she took her in. Yet the girl held her tongue until they were close again.

‘Lie’s don’t suit you…’ Falcon murmured softly before the dance demanded that they part again.

Wynter stared at the girl, missing a step and hurrying to catch up. All her peace was so quick to vanish. Was Falcon an agent of Malachi that she hadn’t recognised? They moved closer once more and she was on her guard, muscles tensed as they stepped around once another passing back to back.

‘I won’t betray you,’ Falcon reassured her and Wynter could breathe again. But how had Falcon known about the lie?

They carried on the dance in silence, her heart beating in rhythm to the drum. She couldn’t look away from the beauty but had little time to speak with her again. Until they drew close to the end of the set and extended a hand to one another.

‘I’m sure our paths will cross again, huntress,’ Falcon told her with a sly smile. One that left Wynter feeling uneasy once more. The woman’s hand was cool. Strangely cold, given the temperature of the room, as they skipped down the centre of the room and returned to their position, bowed once more and turned to face their newest partner.

Wynter spun, stumbling in her steps to face an older man with a long grey beard. The patron from earlier who seemed the worse for wear. Smelling strongly of the harder liquors that Gaz kept stocked behind the bar. He grinned at her and dipped into his bow. Swaying as he went.

‘A pleasure!’ He called across to her and Wynter turned, looking back in search of Falcon, expecting to see her dance with the next woman in line, but she was gone. Wynter frowned, missing her bow and the elderly man was watching her, puzzled.

‘You don’t want to dance with me?’ He called out and she took a breath, centering herself.

‘Apologies,’ she curtseyed quickly and stepped into the rhythm. She moved through the dance, circling back to Gaz, her interactions with Falcon almost forgotten by the time the music came to an end. She felt exhilarated, free.

Her lungs were burning from the exertion and it was hard not to smile. She’d danced with nearly a dozen members of Whire and they’d all been curious, but polite and friendly in their interactions. Maybe, if she was lucky, she wouldn’t have to leave?

She was sweating in her shirt sleeves and corset over breeches as she skipped down the room with Gaz gently holding her fingers. Her hair had pulled free of its braid and loose strands fell around her face. Back to where they’d started, smiled at the tavern keeper.

‘Thank you, I needed that,’ she admitted. His face was flush with heat and beaded with sweat. He laughed, patting his hand against his heart.

‘I need the monthly dance to keep fit,’ he chuckled before sighing at something he could see over her shoulder.

‘Excuse me?’ He rolled his eyes and she turned to watch him leave. There was a young boy climbing over the top of the bar, mug in hand. Intent on helping himself to the tap of ale.

‘Fletcher!’ Gaz, despite his weary feet was sprinting through the room and Wynter couldn’t help but giggle at the misadventures of the lad as the innkeeper caught him by the collar and hauled him back over the bar.

A strong hand wrapped around her waist as the last song started to play. A sweet and sorrowful melody, for lovers to share and lament.

‘I’ve had my eye on you…’ a soft voice whispered against her ear.