“Yes. The purpose being to read the writing on your skin without killing the people who are looking at it. Which reminds me. Ascanio, once she is done dancing, do not look directly at her. It will be very bad for your health and I have no desire to deal with upset Pack parents.”

“Yes,” I said. “You should both avert your eyes.”

“I believe your fiancé will be fine,” Saiman said, walking over to the table with the vase. “Dance, Kate.”

I stomped around onstage. Saiman was looking at the lava lamp.

“Not enough.”

“How do you know?”

“The lamp would glow. We need more. You have to commit and put in the effort, like the child that was originally dancing on the stage. Try to be graceful this time. You’re a swordsman. Surely you can scrounge up some elegance.”

Screw it. “Throw me my socks.”

Curran balled my socks together and tossed them at me. I pulled them on, raised my hands, and slipped into the classical fourth position. I took a deep breath, fixed my gaze on the narrow window directly in front of me, and launched into a double pirouette to pick up momentum. One, two, fouette turn, another, another, another, pirouette, pirouette, what the hell, let’s go for eight, fouette, fouette, seven, eight, pirouette, fourth position, arms open.

Botched that last pirouette a bit. It had been a while.

Saiman and Curran stared at me.

“Do you need a shovel to help you pick up your jaws off the floor?”

Saiman woke up, grabbed the roses from the vase, and threw them at me. A spotlight drenched me, out of nowhere. Behind me Zoe screamed. The spotlight vanished.

I turned around. The Maori woman collapsed in a heap, her hands over her eyes. Saiman hurried over to Zoe, leaning on his cane.

“Ballet?” Curran asked.

“There are so many things about me you don’t know.”

Voron was Russian. He tortured me with ballet for three years, until I turned ten years old.

“Is it safe to look?” Ascanio asked.

“Yes.”

“We need more mirrors,” Saiman called out. “The impact of the words is too strong. The mirror-to-mirror reflection should dull it.”

It took seven mirrors. After Zoe successfully managed to reproduce the first drawing, Saiman brought it to me. It was the language of power, alright, but I couldn’t read it. I got a few isolated words, but most of it didn’t look like the words I already knew.

We kept going and by the end of the hour my head hurt from spinning and my legs hurt from jumping. Ballet wasn’t for the untrained and it had been a long time since I’d had to do it. I was amazed I still remembered how. Voron had said it would help with strength and balance. I mostly hated it.

“I have to take a break,” I told Saiman.

“We’re only halfway done.”