Kavio
On his way to his own secret practice spot in the sequoia forest, Kavio saw a dancer moving alone. She was as graceful and pale as new maize.
Who was she? Why did she dance by herself, far from the kiva and the tor?
He slipped between the trees to get a better look, even though he told himself he shouldn't. Maybe she came to the woods to practice alone—just like he had.
That made him curious. Who else, besides him, did not need the help of the troop? Who else would dare dance alone?
She had to have magic. She was human, not fae. And humans without magic were not allowed to dance—not unless they were casting a hex. If caught, such dancers would be killed.
Yet her style was like nothing he had ever seen.
She wore no ritual mask, no cape of cornhusk. Just a white dress of soft doeskin, stitched with rainbow beads in a maze pattern. Her hair was wild and loose.
He saw no glow from her aura, but somehow, she still seemed to shine. Her presence warmed the cold winter air, like a memory of spring.
She circled an old fir stump, like it was her partner in a fertility dance.
Kavio knew that dance. It was meant for two, not one.
He argued with himself. Then mischief won.
He crept up behind her. Years of hunting and fighting had made him quiet. The big trees helped him hide.
Just as the dance called for her to be lifted, she leaned toward the tree.
He moved.
In time with her steps, he placed his hands around her waist and lifted her into a spin—up over his head, then down again.
She did not scream or fight. She moved with him as if she had expected it. She followed his lead—toss, twirl, turn.
Their feet moved fast and sweet. Smooth.
In this part of the dance, both partners faced forward. He still could not see her face. Her head reached just to his chin. Her hair smelled like flowers.
They moved together as if they had danced in each other's arms for days.
She amazed him.
He dipped her back—only then did he see her face.
"Dindi!" His voice caught in his throat.
Dindi was not allowed to dance. The law of light and shadow was perfectly clear. He had no choice. Taboo-breakers must die. He caught her breaking a taboo—
—he had to kill her!
Thrum, thrum, thumpa-thrum, echoed the drums from the dancing ground by the river.
Kavio glanced that way. He saw the dancers below. The view from here was perfect.
But they could not see up here.
A sick feeling crawled into his chest. He tried to push it away.
He dropped Dindi's arms.
"Kavio. Let me explain."
"Explain what? What are you doing here? Are you really a Tavaedi? Or even a Zavaedi? You didn't learn to dance like that by yourself. Why did you pretend to be an ordinary maiden?"
"I am an ordinary maiden."
"Impossible. You must have passed the test. Your dancing—"
"I failed the test," she said quickly. "I failed, Kavio. No one knows I'm out here. No one knows I've been dancing."
He stared at her.
The drums below kept pounding, their rhythm full of fire and want. The sounds pulled his thoughts in the wrong direction.
Dindi looked up at him like a deer might stare at a drawn bow—scared, guilty, and brave all at once.
Part of him wanted to pull her into his arms. Keep her safe. Protect her.
But the other part couldn't believe what she had said.
No one copied the dances of the Tavaedies without permission. No one. Not unless they had evil plans… or powerful friends.
What was she trying to do? Who helped her? Why did she have to look at him like that?
"Are you a hexer?" he asked. "Did you do this to gain secret power over your enemies?"
"Of course not!" She looked into his eyes. Maybe she saw doubt there. Maybe a challenge.
She stood up straighter. She was still afraid—but now she was also defiant.
"I don't expect you to believe me." Her voice cracked just a little. "I know you'll turn me in. I always knew what would happen if I got caught."
"Then why, Dindi?" he asked softly. "Is it worth your life? Your honor?"
She flinched.
"No. Yes. I don't know. I had to dance."
"To do what? Get what? Money? Power? Love?" His hands landed on her shoulders. He didn't know if he meant to comfort her—or shake the truth out of her.
"Were you forced into casting a hex?"
"No!" She groaned in frustration. "I wasn't casting magic. Why won't you believe me? I have no magic! How could I hex anyone? I didn't do it for money. Or power. Or love. Just for me. Just for the joy of the dance!"
"That's not a good enough reason. Not to risk death. You could live without dancing."
"No. I couldn't."
"You—" He shook his head.
"I don't expect you to understand."
Her sadness cut into him like a blade.
Without thinking, he reached up and touched her cheek. His fingers traced the edge of her jaw. So soft.
If she had magic, he would see it. He could read auras. All six Chromas. Nothing could hide from his sight.
But her aura showed no color. No spark of light. Nothing.
He had always believed people without magic didn't care about it. That they looked down on fae things as useless. That they were content.
But what if he had been just like himself… only without the Chroma to dance?
"What you did was a crime."
"I know." She looked at the hand still resting on her arm. "I won't run, Kavio. I told you—I knew this could happen. I know what I face. I'm not afraid."
She swallowed. "Maybe a little afraid."
"Dindi…"
But what could he promise her?
He was supposed to be the spear that would destroy her.
If only he had not come this way. If only he had never seen her dancing to the beat of the drums.
Wait.
Drums....
Something about the drums pulled at the edge of his thoughts.
They had stopped.
Why?