if it was my appreciation of the other dancer that had prompted it, or if everyone’s joy was infectious, but Louis-Cesare was cutting a rug. He was watching the others, who had slowed down their gyrations to something approaching human speeds, and copied their steps pretty well.
Or their shimmy, I guess I should say. Because male belly dancers seemed to have many of the same moves as the women. Meaning that there was a lot of hip gyrating and undulating going on, along with something that looked a lot like twerking to my uneducated eyes.
They moved freely around the big open space, turning and twisting and shaking that ass, at least Louis-Cesare did. He wasn’t so great at some of the more complex movements, but he had this sinuous quiver down pat that was, uh, memorable. It was the fencing, I thought, staring at my husband’s shapely form more than was probably diplomatic.
But . . . dat ass.
He finally decided that I’d had enough time to digest, which was highly debatable in my opinion, but Hassani was talking to some courtier on his other side and wasn’t available to rescue me. So, I ended up dancing, too. Or something that vaguely passed for it, and I didn’t even have alcohol to blame it on.
It was probably going to end up on the local version of a jumbotron, I thought in horror, just any minute now.
Fortunately, I had a reprieve when a group of plate spinners showed up for the next act. I’d glimpsed them on one of the rooftops as we sped past, but hadn’t had a chance to stop and check them out. And now I didn’t have to. Hassani didn’t travel to the performances, they travelled to him, so we had a front row seat.
If it hadn’t come with more mezze, it would have been perfect.
I let Louis-Cesare take the hit this time, who worked his way through a dinner he didn’t technically need but seemed to enjoy, while the plate spinners did their thing. They were followed by some sword dancers, which was impressive until you considered that they were vamps; some fire jugglers that were impressive because they were vamps; and a woman oud player, with an instrument that looked like a lute and sounded like a Greek guitar, who sang some hauntingly beautiful songs whose words I didn’t understand.
Or maybe part of me did.
Louis-Cesare had reclined behind me and his body was a line of heat up my spine, countering the chill in the air. The night sky was beautiful, with Hassani’s amazing shields able to bring the Milky Way startlingly close and clear. And the torches surrounding our little bier were started to burn low, giving everything a dreamy, dim, golden glow that wrapped me in the same sense of warmth as Louis-Cesare’s arms.
I’d remember today, I thought. Not the pain; I rarely remembered that kind of thing, having had so much of it through the years that it was meaningless, just the background noise of my life. But days like this one . . . yeah. This was burned into my brain.
And then Hassani ensured it.
“Are you enjoying the party?” he asked, leaning over, and keeping his voice low so as not to interrupt the singer’s performance.
“Very much.” I hoped I didn’t sound as sleepy as I felt.
“That is good. I wanted to talk to you earlier, but were told that you were indisposed.”
“I don’t heal as fast as a vamp,” I said. “Not even with help.”
“Really?” A dark eyebrow went up. “That makes your actions over the last few days even more commendable.”
I didn’t know what to do with that, especially coming from him. “Thank you.”
“It is I who should be thanking you—both of you. My court owes you a debt we can never repay.”
I tried to summon up some brain power, in order to respond appropriately, but most of the available blood was being bogarted by my stomach. “That’s, uh, I mean, you don’t have to—”
“That is kind of you,” Louis-Cesare said smoothly, rescuing me. “Anything that strengthens our alliance is of mutual benefit, not only to us, but to the war effort.”
Hassani smiled at him politely for a moment, and then his eyes slid back to me. “But perhaps I can make at least a small down payment.”
“A down payment?” I echoed, confused.
“Yes, indeed.” He leaned closer, almost enough to whisper in my ear. “I think I know what the fey want with your sister.”