She had to remind herself to keep moving—for her hand had paused without her

consent for a fraction of a second. The eyes had seemed to notice even that tiny hesitation, for

they flitted to her fingers vigilantly before returning to her face. What did it mean? Admiration?

Loneliness? Loss? Her chest constricted as she tried to explain the connection—the man’s contemplation hit her like a tidal wave and nearly knocked her off balance. All she could do

was hang on for dear life, as she pushed her body onto automatic mode. At the same time that

she moved thoughtlessly, she was doubly conscious of her postures. She tried a little harder

because she knew that there was at least one person in the room who could distinguish the

quality of her execution.

The rest of her dance flew by in a blur that she could barely remember. Her heart was

beating unusually quickly under the keen inspection. Every moment she could justifiably

spare was spent glancing at the sharp gleam unnaturally present in those olive green eyes. The

person they belonged to was the furthest away from her, concealed in an extremely dark-lit

corner. Luckily, her vision, especially in the dark, was better than most. There were dozens of

men, probably handsome young admirers, clustered around the stage; she was not sure why

her attention was held rapt by this distant, intense gaze.

As the world churned about her in a mess of sea foam, those green eyes were a solid

island. How sweetly they shone, and how firmly they were grounded. She could not resist

being drawn to them as a windswept ship eagerly seeks a harbor. She could not resist the

immediate intimacy that was provoked in her chest, completely unbidden and unanticipated.

When she had finished her dance and retreated backstage, she stood naked against a

wall, trying to calm her racing heart. She sucked in gulp after gulp of the air which no longer

felt empty. Each breath was laced with electricity. A surge fizzled through her scalp and neck,

and she reached up to touch her skin soothingly. Underneath her fingers, her skin still tingled

with triumph. The audience had loved her; she had sensed it. She felt strangely affirmed by

this—she was by no means a young woman anymore, despite her smooth skin and physical

appearance.

But that man! She closed her eyes as she leaned her head back against the wall,

remembering his gaze. Imagining that she might never again feel such an intent and private

gaze, she tried to commit the feeling to memory.

“How was it?” came a soft voice from the shadows. It was Viola, of course. The red￾haired warrior woman never strayed far from Aazuria’s side.

“Oh, Vio,” she said, her chest heaving with exhilarated breaths. “It was divine. There

was a man…”

“There were many men, darling.”

“Yes, but this one… I saw the sea in his eyes.”

Visola released an incredulous grunt before scowling. “Princess Aazuria! I have never

known you to spew such a load of romantic whaleshit.”

“I am not being romantic, General! You know that I have a knack for judging people.”

Aazuria had straightened her posture in order to defend herself. “There was a unique quality—

something that I have never seen before, and yet it was familiar...” Viola reached out and grabbed Aazuria’s naked shoulders. She gave her a violent

shake. “Listen to me. I know that home is a distasteful memory you want to escape right now,

but you can’t deceive yourself with fantasies about this place. This is a cruel, disgusting world.

The atmosphere isn’t the only thing you need to get acclimatized to—it’s the people. You

must stay on guard.”

“I have lived among land-dwellers before,” Aazuria argued, reaching up to remove

Viola’s hands from her shoulders. “I know how to interact with them.”

“Things have changed in the last hundred years that we’ve been cooped up in Adlivun.

Culture, technology, weaponry…” Viola was speaking in a low voice, but when a dancer

walked by with a heavily painted face, she relaxed and hit Aazuria in the arm. “You should go

talk to this guy! And for Sedna’s sake, try to smile a little. You look like someone died.”

“Someone did die.”

Viola waved her hand casually. “That’s irrelevant. We’re here to collect copious

amounts of this nation’s currency with minimal interaction. We make our money and get

out.” Vioa’s voice was stern, and she raised a finger to add emphasis to her next words. “You

cannot get attached to these land dwellers, Princess. We have a mission to complete.”

“I have no intention of veering away from your directions,” Aazuria said with a nod.

“You are the strategist. By the way—where is Sonna?”

“Around here somewhere,” Viola said with a shrug. “Off making tons of cash, no

doubt. She keeps trying to convince me that we should purchase medical equipment instead

of firearms. That’s my sister and her screwed-up priorities for ya! I tried to tell her that if we

have a good offense we won’t need… hey, Zuri?” Viola paused, studying her friend. She

noticed that her friend was idly fingering the back of her neck and glancing toward the beaded

curtain. “I’ve never seen you so distracted. What did this man of yours look like?”