“Just one dance. Be my partner.” Rhea gave the other woman her best pleading expression until Clo finally joined her.

Clo’s first movements were stiff. Rhea had noticed her limp; the silver glint of the prosthetic visible in the gap between her shoe and trouser leg when she sat down at the command center. It didn’t seem to slow her down, but Rhea could understand why it might make Clo self-conscious.

Okay, Rhea thought, Slow. Let’s go slow.

How did others do this? How did they indicate interest?

She inched toward Clo, her hips swaying. When the other woman’s eyes met hers and their hands touched, Rhea’s breath caught in her throat. She could sense Clo’s attraction, clear as a chime. The music grew louder, drowning out thought.

Ariadne had chosen the song well. That insistent, thumping bass echoed in Rhea’s ribcage, in time with her heartbeat. She could feel the music in her bones. In that moment, the gray, stark canteen and ragged bunting were as perfect a setting as the marble-and-gold ballroom of the palace on Tholos. It was fast and wild, and Rhea’s pulse hammered when she brushed her fingers against the other woman’s wrists.

As the song ended, they stared at each other, breathing hard. They had yet to release each other’s hands. I want to know you, Rhea thought. Could she say that? She didn’t know the rules outside of the Pleasure Garden. How to behave. What to say.

What not to say.

Clo broke the spell first. She dropped Rhea’s hands and cleared her throat. “You’re a beautiful dancer.”

Rhea hid her pleased smile by grabbing her rum from the table and taking a small sip. Her hands were still warm from Clo’s touch. “Dancing is the first thing we learn in the Pleasure Garden. Later, when we’re old enough, we perform at palace balls to seek new clients.” She leaned in slightly, as if to betray a secret. “Our madam calls it ‘advertising.’”

“Advertising,” Clo echoed. “Is that what you were doing just now?” She didn’t sound judgmental, simply curious.

Rhea wondered if Clo were trying to understand Rhea, too. Trying to learn more about her. New attraction was such a careful dance of its own, Rhea was learning. She didn’t want to say something wrong.

“No,” she said softly. “For once, this was just for fun. This was for me.”

Clo followed Rhea’s gaze down to her feet and flinched at the scars. “What was it like there? In the Pleasure Garden?”

What was it like? Rhea wasn’t certain it had an easy answer—some parts she remembered fondly, others she didn’t. But which parts of her life were so ingrained that she simply accepted them? Which parts only seemed less terrible because they paled in comparison to the worst?