A Dance of Lies

by Brittney Arena

“But though you’ve suffered your own fire, child, you won’t always smell of smoke. And yes, it may have burned you,” she tells me, and I lift my gaze. “But scars are powerful things, because they show your resilience. So rise from your ashes, my dear. Do not crumble alongside them.”

“But surely you must know everyone at this Gathering can’t keep their eyes off you—including me, if it wasn’t perfectly obvious. You do not need the one man who gazes elsewhere.”

“We all have our comforts, Minnow. I wonder if you might be mine.”

A flush blazes up the back of my neck. “You could use a dose of humility, Sire.” “Why would I dose myself with that? Sounds terrible.”