Sarah Zettel: Dust girl

“I’m sure you dance beautifully. It’s in your blood, after all.” My uncle held out his hand, and Grandmother smiled and gave me a little push toward him.

I was blushing all over, but I let him lead me out onto the floor. The music had changed, slowing down from the swing time to a slow, country sound. One, two, three, one, two, three. Uncle Lorcan put his hands under mine and began to waltz. It was polite, formal, and easy, a simple rhythm that my feet seemed to know better than my head. All the while, Lorcan hummed under his breath, and I remembered Shimmy’s humming, and remembered how I’d first met this man.

“Why did you try to get me to think you were my papa?” I asked him.

He smiled, small and kind of sad. “It was something in the nature of a test, I’m afraid. I didn’t know what kind of person you were, and I had to find out. I am pleased to say you passed with flying colors.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to make that face. You don’t realize how important you are, Callie LeRoux-or I should say Callie deMinuit. Without an heir, the Midnight Throne has been in deep danger.”

“But you were here. You said Papa abdicated. So wouldn’t that make you next in line?”

“If this were a human court, yes. The problem is, you were born before your father completed the ceremony of abdication. He did not know that, of course. But by our laws that makes you the legitimate heir, and me, well, I am second in line.”

“But Grandfather’s the king, isn’t he? He can just change the law.”

“You’re still thinking like a human, Callie. Human laws have no real hold on their people. It is different for our kind. Our laws-the laws of light and shadow-are born into us. If they are broken, our whole world, our very existence, is broken. You are the heir to the Midnight Throne, Calliope, and will be as long as you draw breath.”

I felt like I should say something, although I wasn’t sure what. “I’m sorry,” I tried. “I didn’t want to be…”

Uncle Lorcan shrugged. “We can none of us help being born, my dear niece. That is one thing our kind shares with the likes of your young man.” Uncle Lorcan nodded toward Jack, who was watching me while one of the fairy girls leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

I felt my face flush all over again. “He’s not my young man.”

“Well, you would be the one to know.” Something I couldn’t read glittered in my uncle’s eyes. “But you need to take care, Callie. Not everyone wants you here.”

Fear touched the back of my neck, a cold, heavy feeling like the press of Morgan’s gun.

Uncle Lorcan nodded once. He knew I’d gotten the message. His serious whisper vanished, and he was all smiles again. “Now, you’ve talked enough with your dull uncle. Let me take you back to Her Majesty.”

The music had changed again. No one else stopped dancing, but Uncle Lorcan led me through the swaying, spinning couples. The human dancers seemed to turn pale as we passed, and their faces… they were all smiling, but their smiles seemed strained. There was something shifting and rippling between me and them, like a gauzy curtain had fallen over them. That was familiar too, but before I could place it, I was back beside Grandmother.

“Well, my dear, how do you like your celebration?” She spread her hands out to take in the entire hall.

“I love it, but…”

“And is not Mr. Basie’s music so wonderful?”

“It is, but…”

“I think your friend would like a dance, my dear.”

My tongue froze against the top of my mouth. Jack was coming across the floor, leaving the fairy girls behind. I’d never danced with a boy. I mean, not really. Not one I liked. There was waltz class at school, but that was a lot different. This was Jack standing in front of me in his fine evening clothes, making me feel funny again. He looked so much older dressed like that, with the wonderful music rising up behind him. He could have been Fred Astaire smiling for Ginger Rogers.

Jack bowed to me, just like he had to my grandmother. “May I have this dance?”

I giggled and made a curtsy. It seemed the thing to do. Then Jack took my gloved hand in his and led me onto the dance floor.

“I probably oughta let you know, I can’t actually dance,” he confessed.

“It’ll be okay,” I said. Because now that I was in the middle of the dance and the music, I knew I could dance however I pleased. What’s more, I could help Jack do the same, as easy as breathing. Easy as wishing.

I took Jack’s hands, arranging them so one held mine and the other rested against the small of my back. The current of the music and the magic ran through me into him, and just like that, Jack could dance too.

And he was really good. He could swing and sashay and tango and lindy and jitterbug. He swung me around and lifted me up high. I laughed and came down and whirled around with him. I was swimming in the music like a dolphin in the ocean. It had gotten into my blood and my feet. I could have flown to the moon or danced along a high wire. I could do anything. This place was perfect, with its colored lights, its deep shadows, and its music, and I was perfect in it. For the first time in my entire life, I was comfortable in my own skin. This was right where we needed to be. I knew it for sure.

Jack was perfect too. He steered me beautifully during the slow numbers, and when Mr. Basie’s band picked up the pace again, we stomped down and kicked back into a swing step.

“Callie…,” Jack whispered like someone coming up for air.

“I know!” I cried as the next song began. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

There was just a heartbeat before his great big grin spread across his face. “Sure is!”

Jack gripped my hands tightly, and we plunged in deep among the taller, slower dancers. We spun around each other, kicking and jumping high. The music washed through me. I was made of music.

But then a new noise rippled beneath the music. It was a kind of distant roaring, like the wind rushing around the eaves. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw someone fall down.

I blinked and turned my head, trying to see better. All at once, I wasn’t in the middle of the glittering crowd anymore. I was in a dim and dusty pavilion. Daylight filtered through tiny strips of window high above. Around me, people in faded dresses and overalls staggered around the dance floor to the strident, off-key music of a tired band. Next to the door hung a sign:

FAIRYLAND DANCE MARATHON!

27 DAYS AND COUNTING!

WHO WILL BE THE NEXT TO FALL?

But Jack, following the music, turned us again, and I caught sight of my grandparents on their thrones. I was in their dance hall again, and I knew that other place was just my imagination. The dance marathon was a whole world away. This was my party. I could dance forever; I was that strong and that free. I grinned at Jack.

But Jack didn’t look quite right anymore. He was kind of pale, and his coffee-and-cream freckles stood out sharp against his skin. He was sweating, and he had to close his mouth around his breathing to smile at me and swing me around again.

KANSAS CITY DANCE MARATHON. The words from the flyer I’d pulled out of Shimmy’s handbag flickered in front of my eyes again. Why was I thinking about that? This wasn’t a dance marathon. This was a celebration, the celebration of my homecoming.

Jack stumbled. I tightened my grip on his hands. His cold hands.

“Jack?”

His jaw sagged open again. “Callie…,” he croaked. “Callie, I think something’s wrong with me…”

But what could be wrong, with the music and the lights and my grandparents smiling down at us? It was perfect and magical. Like time was standing still.

Like time was standing still . My head surfaced briefly above the current of the music. How long had we been dancing, anyhow? An hour, maybe? I had no idea. There were no clocks in the hall, and I hadn’t worn a watch. There were big bay windows that looked over the midway, but as I turned again, I saw all the heavy curtains were closed. I couldn’t see anything through them but some faint, flickering light. The peaked ceiling sparkled like glass, but it was just a kind of shimmery solid silver that didn’t seem to be letting anything in, either dark or light.