Chapter 23

Ashite closed the book. <> She had also read it a long time ago but read it again because it was a fairly good novel. Alexandria was a large mountain range that spread across the southern side of Skara. Its smaller mountain range was called Bro Sanderero, and it was said that her mother was active there the most.

Mother. Lost in thought, Ashite got up from her chair and walked to the middle of the room. She took off her indoor shoes. Several hours had passed since she had eaten lunch but she wasn’t particularly hungry. She had a stronger urge to dance than to feel hunger.

To her, it was routine. Whenever, wherever, it was something she never forgot. Ever since she came to stay in this palace, she had practiced this dance tens, hundreds of times.

Ashite extended her hand out. It was a much warmer summer than that of Skara. The sunlight shined brightly through the window. It was peaceful. Ashite moved her feet. There was no music playing, but in her ears, she could hear a calm song. The world’s sweetest and gentlest voice. She closed her eyes. The very first summer rain.

The legendary dancer Helena had taught it to her saying that it was a dance that would be the basic foundation for all other dances. It was a dance that made the listener think of the refreshing rain that cooled the heated passion of summer. The dance was coordinated to music but Ashite moved her body in a beautifully choreographed dance.

First, she stepped forward. Before her heel touched the floor, the other foot quickly propelled her forward without leaving a trace. Her waist, in rhythm with the steps, swiveled left and right. Her hands were spread out wide like wings and fluttered without a sound. When she reached the end of the wall, she pulled her feet away, turning her hips and spinning her body around. Leaning her head downwards, her purple hair flowed down like a curtain then flew back upwards. This time, the footsteps skipping forward got noticeably faster. When her left foot touched the floor, she lifted it up swiftly. Her right foot kicked out and quickly slid back. She continued these movements several times until she had beads of sweat running across her face. Her shoulders bounced up and down and her hair flung out behind her.

Suddenly, her quickly moving feet came to a slow stop. She walked over to the window and started to shake the curtains like fluttering wings. The curtain’s shadow dyed the inside of the room. The room’s floor brightened immediately. Instantly it glowed yellow and white and spread across the room. Ashite smiled widely. This time, she would dance Autumn’s Prayer.

With a pitiful expression, she extended her thin arms, and like the loneliest person in the world, she wrapped her two arms around her body. Once, twice. With her head lowered, she folded her body inwards then extended her hands out. She slowly shook her waist as she inched forward. At the beginning of the piece, she expressed the lonely autumn night. True to that expression, Ashite moved her feet slowly and took turns extending her arms in and out as if grabbing the falling leaves in her outstretched palms. Suddenly, her steps became faster. Once, twice, three times. Like a small child, she laughed heartily. The music changed to that of wishing for a prosperous year, days full of luck, and a plentiful heart that prayed to the gods.

It was not as simple as dancing to each of the four seasons. Ashite, instead, changed the choreography slightly, changing its speed to create a continuous piece of her own creation. She continued with Winter’s Edge and Cat’s Spring.

Even with slow footsteps, her hips moved fast. Like ballet, she showed off the flexibility of her upper body by leaning back to touch the floor with her hand, accenting her smooth body line. Like the tango, she bobbed her head to and fro with bravado. She stepped lightly against the floor and continuously moved like a song. She floated lightly like a baby bird or a delicate butterfly. She slid her feet. She would look sad and then laugh, look teary-eyed and then smile.

She didn’t know how much time had passed.

Ashite stood in the middle of the room. She moved her body fiercely but she didn’t waver once.

The dance ended. She had combined the dances she had learned over the shoulder of Terre Sund and the ones she had seen in the illustrated books. It was a dance created just for her. It was the longest and most involved dance she had done since she came here. There were still parts that were not perfect but she was happy with the outcome.

She had danced without any music. However, in her ears, she could hear the simple yet flamboyant, elegant yet disorderly, quiet yet staccato songs echoing through her. Even without any lyrics, she could feel the tune. Even without the tune, the sound remained.

Ashite looked down at her feet. It had already been a long while since she had kicked off her indoor shoes decorated with artificial flowers. After removing them from her feet, she looked at her severely bent toes. Her feet were wet with sweat and full of blisters and scars, but they were the most respectable thing that she had.

A thin smile crept up for a second then disappeared.

Clap, clap, clap.

The short yet cheerful applause echoed through the room. She turned her head. The king was here. After coming back to her senses, Ashite realized that she had not greeted the king properly and was about to be scolded by the chambermaid. She quickly put on her indoor shoes.

“Princess, your dancing skills are fantastic.”

Other than her mother, Lante, and her dance instructor, nobody had ever complimented her dancing before. No one had ever given her any attention, and even she herself had kept it hidden.

But those words… Ashite was surprised to hear the heartfelt compliment but tried hard to keep her feelings hidden. She did not know why the king would compliment her dancing. Still, however much she tried to repress it, the happiness she felt burst up to the surface like a bubbling spring. There was no way that she wouldn’t be happy about the compliment — it meant much more than him merely pointing out her good dancing skills.

“….I am ever so grateful. I do not deserve such high praise.”

And so, without realizing, she couldn’t help but smile. It was a light, gentle smile as if drawn by watercolors.

Lu Havre stared right at her.

“It is surprising to find that Skara has such high standards for dancing lessons,” he said in a voice mixed with both admiration and disbelief. The king said this to himself so Ashite didn’t answer him.

Of course, her dancing skills were not only learned from school. She had a more fundamental teacher: her mother. However, there was no reason to tell him this piece of the truth. It seemed strange that the king would even be interested in these trifling movements.

Oh?

Ashite jumped in surprise at her thoughts. Because she was in front of the king, she resisted the temptation to shout out but she couldn’t hide her bothered expression or her shaking fingertips.

“What is the matter?”

<>

“Princess. Answer me. What is the matter?”

“….Oh.”

The hard, yet gentle hands of a king touched her shoulder. He was just close enough for her to feel his faint warmth. She must have collapsed without her knowledge. The king bent over in front of her. She could see his red eyes. She was reflected inside them. Inside those eyes, all her worries collapsed and broke apart. Ashite shook her head lightly. She thought that she had gotten rid of all her regret and all her hopes had been shattered but—

<>

But her body shivered like a small bird drenched in cold water.