Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 1145: When the Floor Moves

Gervase took Elara’s acceptance poorly.

He concealed most of it beneath the composure expected of a Marquis heir, keeping his shoulders level and his chin at the same measured height he had maintained throughout the confrontation. The smaller signs proved less obedient. His fingers curled beside his thigh, while the muscles along his jaw tightened once more when his attention settled upon Elara’s hand inside Lucavion’s.

”Lady Elowyn.”

Elara turned her head. Lucavion’s fingers remained loosely closed around hers, neither pulling her toward the Floor nor releasing her while she dealt with the man behind him.

For a moment, she considered offering Gervase nothing. The examination had made the right of refusal explicit, and she owed no justification to someone whose invitation she had never accepted. Silence, however, would allow him to reduce her choice to the ashen flower and the attention it had gathered. That interpretation came close enough to one inconvenient truth that Elara preferred giving him another.

”My assigned House benefits from widening its visible associations during this Measure,” she said. ”Aerath lies outside Maraven’s usual provincial circle, and its disagreement with Harcourt has already shown that contact with Master Aerath does not imply absorption into another House’s position. For my objective, that makes the association useful without making it exclusive.”

The explanation rested upon what she had read of her seal rather than the portions she had left unfinished. It would survive ordinary scrutiny, provided Gervase did not possess some hidden connection between Aerath and Maraven that the Rotunda had neglected to reveal publicly.

His gaze shifted to Lucavion before returning to her. ”House Aerath’s independence tells you very little about what his objective requires.”

”That is true.” Elara allowed the agreement to settle before adding, ”It also tells me very little about yours.”

Gervase’s mouth tightened. He had defended the privacy of his own Role Seal too fiercely to demand hers now without exposing the contradiction himself.

”The Rotunda gave each of us private objectives,” she continued. ”I can judge whether accepting his invitation suits mine. Master Aerath can decide whether extending it suits his.”

”And you are certain it does?”

Elara met his stare. ”I am certain that I accepted.”

The answer left Gervase nowhere courteous to go. He could question Lucavion’s motives again, but not without admitting that Elara’s judgment mattered less to him than the conclusion he had already chosen for her.

Lucavion stepped sideways before Gervase attempted it.

The movement covered only a single pace, gentle enough that the contact between their hands barely shifted, yet his shoulder entered Elara’s line of sight and replaced the Marquis heir completely. She looked at the dark formal coat now occupying the space where Gervase had been, then up at Lucavion’s profile.

’What are you doing?’

With an expression of remarkable innocence, Lucavion turned his head toward the man behind him.

Elara could not see what passed between them. Gervase’s reaction supplied the missing half: his eyes widened, his mouth flattened, and the control he had rebuilt over the last few breaths fractured into naked fury.

Before Elara could lean far enough to discover what Lucavion had done, the musicians struck the opening chord, and Lucavion moved with it.

—FWOOSH!

The floor vanished beneath her.

His right hand closed around her waist as he stepped through her center, turning the forward motion into a swift lateral sweep. Elara’s shoes cleared the polished stone by no more than several inches, but the speed of the rotation made the whole Rotunda seem to fall away. Golden markings curved beneath her, mirrors swept past in a bright ring, and the central brazier crossed Lucavion’s shoulder while his body remained the only fixed point in the room.

Her free hand caught his shoulder. ”You—”

Lucavion did not return her to the floor. His planted foot turned, his next step crossed behind it, and the remainder of their momentum opened Elara’s skirt into a dark arc around her legs. His palm held her securely through the fitted fabric at her waist, firm enough to govern the turn without forcing her torso out of alignment.

The contact was more difficult to disregard than it had appeared from the edge of the Floor.

Elara knew how little height the lift truly contained. Any competent cultivator possessed the strength to raise another person farther. What separated this from a crude display was the way Lucavion spent each piece of momentum before it could jar through her frame. He received her weight as he might receive force along a blade, redirected what remained useful, then altered the intended landing before her foot could search for it.

Her eyes sharpened. ’He changed it.’

She had prepared for one conclusion and felt the supporting angle disappear. Lucavion carried her through another fraction of the musical phrase, navigating between the couples entering the Floor without looking away from her, before the pressure of his hand finally shifted downward.

The downward pressure was a cue, subtle but unmistakable.

Elara answered it on instinct. He eased his support as her right shoe descended, guiding the last of the rotation through her hips rather than allowing it to strike her knees.

—TAP!

Her heel touched the stone. The other followed almost without sound, and she found herself standing exactly where the Court Variation required her for its next figure, their joined hands already raised and Lucavion’s palm softening at her waist as soon as her balance became her own.

The music continued as though he had done nothing unreasonable.

Elara stared at him. ”You did that deliberately.”

”I would be concerned if I hadn’t.”

He guided her backward before she could answer, and her body followed the measure even while her attention remained fixed upon him. ”You lifted me without warning.”

Lucavion showed no remorse. ”You seemed alert.”

”That hardly substitutes for a cue.”

He turned her neatly beneath their raised hands. ”It worked.”

Elara’s look should have discouraged him. Lucavion merely led her through the next turning step, his mouth curving as he added, ”Elowyn, you landed beautifully.”

”Because you decided where I would land.”

”I also decided where I would land. I thought that was part of dancing.”

Her pulse still carried evidence that it had been something else, but she refused to reward him by saying so. Instead, she followed the broad crossing figure that took them toward the outer curve of the Floor, waited until the rotation opened her view beyond his shoulder, and searched for Gervase.

The Marquis heir remained where they had left him, watching with an expression that had recovered none of its earlier restraint.

”What did you do to Gervase?” Elara asked as Lucavion drew her back into frame.

He offered her an expression empty of useful information. ”Do?”

”Before the music. You blocked my view and turned toward him.”

”People turn their heads frequently.”

Elara maintained the next step as she pressed, ”His face changed.”

”Perhaps he remembered something unpleasant.”

Elara glanced past him again. ”You are the unpleasant thing he was looking at.”

A quiet laugh escaped Lucavion, and on the next turn he crossed her line of sight with such unnecessary precision that Gervase disappeared behind his shoulder once more.

Her gaze returned slowly to his face. ”You did that deliberately too.”

He drew her through the next turn without surrendering his innocence. ”We are dancing.”

”You know exactly what I mean.”

The amusement in his eyes offered no confession, though Elara could imagine the likely offense without one. A smile would have irritated Gervase; a wink might have destroyed what remained of his patience. Whatever Lucavion had chosen, asking for confirmation would only encourage him.

She let the matter rest and gave her attention to the dance.

After the violent opening, Lucavion settled into a more measured rhythm. The broad structure remained Arcanian enough to satisfy the Court Variation, but his technique felt different from inside the frame. His shoulder supplied information before his hand. Pressure reached their joined fingers earlier than modern instruction preferred, while each recovery traveled a fraction farther before he gathered the distance between them again.

Watching him with Lianne had shown Elara the result. Holding him revealed the grammar beneath it.

She adjusted her grip and waited for the next transition. Arcanian form would deliver the cue through the fingers before reinforcing it through the frame; Elara reversed the order, allowing her shoulder to shift first in the manner used by an older Lorian variation.

Lucavion answered immediately. His foot changed direction before his gaze sharpened, and his weight opened through the exact angle her cue required. There had been no visible calculation, no fraction of delay in which he studied her movement and imitated it. His body had simply recognized the instruction.

Elara’s pulse quickened for a reason that had nothing to do with the opening lift.

She tested him again, shortening the pressure through their hands while allowing her torso to carry more of the direction. Lucavion followed just as naturally, but this time his black eyes settled more carefully upon hers when he brought her back into frame.

He knew she was doing something.

Elara almost smiled. The dance had finally become useful.

”Where did you learn to dance like this?”