The day before the party, Mara hides in the deep recesses of the garden, keeping out of the way of the servants preparing both the field and the mansion for tomorrow’s guests. Kimala’s words from that morning bounce around her head, nagging her incessantly as she tries to study. Sure, she’s a tein’stra, but surely no one will expect her to know how to dance since she had just arrived a month ago – right?

Ezra peeks around the corner and glares at Mara. “You had a lesson,” she chastises her daughter, “and you didn’t show up.”

“I don’t want him feeling me up,” Mara grumbles her lame excuse, hunching behind her book. She and Shaniel had been getting along recently, but sparring and dancing are two different things. Even though he has promised never to do anything without her permission, she is still a bit wary.

Ezra snatches the book and tucks it under her arm. “He won’t ‘feel you up.’ You need to know at least one dance, Mara, and Shaniel is a good instructor despite everything else.”

She grabs Mara’s wrist and drags her out of the garden. A huge flat platform had been set up in the yard, smoothing out the area for the ease of dancing.

Shaniel stands in the middle, flirting with one of the servants. Her cheeks are a bright red as she stares up at the handsome man through her eyelashes. However, as soon as she sees Ezra approaching with Mara in tow, the young woman quickly bows to Shaniel and excuses herself.

Shaniel turns around, confused, and rolls his eyes at them. “Did you have to ruin the fun, Ezra?”

Ezra raises an eyebrow at him. “And here I thought you’ve been having fun with Mara,” she says, not releasing her hand from the girl’s arm. “Sparring and playing games with my daughter is no longer fun? How about trying to teach her how to dance?”

Aeserast glides across the platform, having finished his conversation with Jonan about the lighting. “Ezra, aren’t you being a little cruel? You know how these two have been recently.”

“Perverted cat,” Mara insults him, fighting the grin off her face to keep up the ruse.

“Danarko brat,” Shaniel calls back, sticking his tongue out at her. He doesn’t hold back his smirk.

Ezra sighs. “Quit the act. You two are as thick as thieves. I swear, if we had raised Mara here, she would have grown up stealing her way across Saheir with all the things you’re teaching her.” She narrows her eyes at Shaniel. “Don’t you dare teach her any of those dances, got it?”

“Sera, sera,” Shaniel waves off Ezra’s concern, speaking the Xharos phrase for ‘of course, of course.’ He has been teaching Mara a few phrases during their Siege games. He splays his fingers at her. “Well, little Danarko, shall we begin?”

Mara shrugs off her mother’s hand and locks her grip around his wrist. “Don’t you dare try anything,” she warns as he takes her other hand.

He grins. “And why would I do that?” He asks innocently, guiding her hands into place and bumping her right foot with his toe. “Move that one back. This is the five-step dance – one of the simpler ones.”

Mara follows his lead, noticing how he is keeping a large distance between them. She glances at Aeserast and Ezra who are conversing to one another now. “So what are the dances she doesn’t want me to learn?” she asks him, suddenly wanting to know just to spite her mother for having her learn these cursed moves.

Shaniel shakes his head, his red-spiked black hair whipping around his face. “Nope, not telling.”

“Oh, come on,” she pesters him. “What’s so bad about them?”

Shaniel raises an eyebrow at her. “I believe you would kill me faster than your mother would.”

Mara’s cheeks flush a faint pink. “… Ah.” She stares over his shoulder and narrows her eyes as an idea comes to mind. “What other steps are in this dance?”

“There’s a spin, a back step, as well as a dip.” He eyes her warily. “What do you have planned?”

She grins at him. “Nothing in particular.”

“Hmm.” He holds their hands up. “Spin.”

She does. After a few more minutes of the simple steps, he says, “When you step back, that’s the best time to do a dip. Are you ready?”

Mara shrugs. “Sure.” She steps back just as his right hand slips out of her grip and wraps around her waist, using their still joined hands to bend her backward.

Mara subtly pushes on her heel, knowing he is not prepared for her upward momentum. His eyes widen as she uses his bent position to her advantage, pulling herself around him with their still joined hands. He tumbles to the ground, barely twisting in time to avoid landing on his face. She laughs as he thuds on the grass just at the edge of the platform, rubbing his rump.

He bares his teeth at her, exposing his sharp canines. “You got me this time, Danarko.”

Mara smirks down at him but squeaks as someone grabs her arm and spins her around, pulling her into a faster version of the five-step dance she had just been doing with Shaniel.

Aeserast smiles at Mara’s wide eyes. “I see you are getting lazy, Shaniel,” he calls over to the laig’hius still on the grass. “I never would have imagined Mara would outwit you.”

“Even she has some tricks up her sleeve,” Shaniel tries to defend himself, his cheeks reddening. He rubs the back of his neck.

“Your footwork needs improvement, but you have the basics down,” Aeserast compliments her, sending her into a spin that causes her tied-up hair to bump against her earlobe.

“I thought this dance was slower,” she says, struggling to keep up with the fast steps. She accidentally misses a move and steps on Aeserast’s foot. “Sorry…”

“Shaniel was going easy on you,” Aeserast informs her, brushing off her apology with a shrug. “This dance is usually performed to fast-paced music.”

“Ah…” Mara tries to break away, but all Aeserast does is spin her again. “Is there… a slower one?”

Aeserast chuckles. “Knowing you, you won’t want to dance any of the slower ones, as they involve the participants being much closer to one another.”

Mara’s eyes widen as she assesses the distance between them. “Wait, this is how far away you’re supposed be?”

Aeserast nods. Suddenly, his hand is around her back and she is dipped down. Taken off guard, she stares at him, her eyes wide. “Please take it easy on Shaniel during the festivities,” he requests quietly as he straightens her and resumes the regular steps. “He can get carried away at times.”

Mara sighs, glancing at the sulking cat-eared man as he rubs the back of his head. “As long as he doesn’t do anything stupid,” she finally mumbles to Aeserast.

He smiles knowingly. “Knowing him, he probably will.”

~ • ~

After her morning training, her mother and aunt drag her into her room, not even allowing her to go to the library for the first half of the day. By the time midafternoon rolls around and the guests are arriving in the prepared area, Mara’s nerves are already frazzled.

As the sun sets, a huge crowd of about a hundred or so individuals fills the garden and entrances into the mansion. People with an assortment of lavish clothes from the gaudy to absolutely hideous to intricately beautiful mill around, their masks hiding their true features.

They clap as Mara and Kimala pause beside Jonan on a raised dais. Kimala looks comfortable in a shimmering blue masterpiece that sweeps around her legs in a mermaid style skirt, her straightened hair pulled out of her face via the braids wrapping around her head like a crown and meeting in the back.

Mara tries her best not to run away in her earth-toned A-line dress, a bit overwhelmed with how many people are here for Kimala’s birthday. Her shoulder-length hair is in an elegant bun with her wavy hazelnut locks cascading around her face, accenting her angled jaw and cheekbones.

She knows her uncle is a tein’fu and in charge of Veera, but this is a bit much for his daughter’s sixteenth birthday, isn’t it?

I guess turning sixteen is a bigger deal on Saheir than turning twenty-one on Earth, Mara thinks to herself, a smile plastered on her face as she stares at the twin moons Narein and Naros in the sky, taking slow, deep breaths. The silver sparks of her Source occasionally flit across the fine, silky brown gloves covering her skin to her elbows; at least she has learned how to calm it somewhat during Aeserast’s exercises.

Jonan places his hands on Mara’s and Kimala’s shoulders, squeezing them lightly.

“It is wonderful the things that can happen within a few days,” he starts off his speech, gesturing to Ezra and Surana who are standing to the side. “My sister, Ezra, came home last month. Who would have ever guessed Mara, her daughter, would share the same birthday as our precious Kimala?” A big grin stretches across his face. “Now, they turn sixteen in the same night. Welcome them to their silver years!”

The crowd claps, and a few people cheer. Mara spots Shaniel and Aeserast in nice formal attire near the back of the crowd, their distinct hair colors making them stick out like scimitars on a gun rack.

Mara leans toward Kimala and whispers, “Why silver?”

“It stands for the purity of the Four Ancient Sisters,” Kimala murmurs abstractly, smiling and waving to the crowd.

I shouldn’t have asked her, Mara grumbles to herself. She’s the one who gave me that book, after all.

They walk to the cake in the middle of the banquet table. It is an extravagant multicolored eight-layer cake that supposedly represents the “simple elements” within this world: fire and water, earth and air, light and shadow, Voyana and Source. Voyana looks like a soft gold that reminds Mara of sunlight while Source is a shimmery blue with grey-white lightning bolt-shaped decorations around the edges, representing Mara’s and Kimala’s Source.

Mara frowns, thinking of the black core underneath the silver sparks inside her mind. That is a part of her Source, too, isn’t it?

Jonan hands the girls each a giant knife. Kimala daintily punctures the top of the fondant, pressing down with a practiced move. Mara, not trained in the kitchen, holds the knife like she does a dagger and chops a lightning bolt in half.

Kimala shoots Mara a glare before turning to the clapping crowd. Kimala grins while Mara nervously smiles.

As the cake is passed around, Mara recedes into a corner and quietly nibbles on her small slice of “Shadow” which tastes like chocolate. The mask feels almost like a safety wall between her and the crowd – secretly, she is happy about it.

“Can’t you socialize? You look like a gloomy dark spot,” Kimala asks as she is whisked away by someone in a white and blue outfit that reminds Mara of a creepy prince from a Disney movie. She shakes her head, dispelling that ridiculous image.

Mara carefully sneaks across the cobbled garden in her high heels, heading for a table laden with finger-foods such as cheese, fruit, and vegetables. She doesn’t want anyone to talk to her; what is she supposed to say? She knows almost nothing about the world, thus eliminating majority of conversations unless she wants to sound like an uneducated bimbo.

Grabbing a plate, she plucks a square cheese from the tray and immediately bites into it, frustrated she can’t study right now. Screw manners. She doesn’t even want to be here.

“How is it? I’ve been contemplating getting some for myself,” Shaniel suddenly appears, leaning against the table where no one had been just a second before.