Like the Dawn (Lark #3) (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

             
I
'm dragging after lunch and seriously want to just go to my room and take a nap but Grey has decided that this would be a good time to teach me the official dance of Álfheimr instead. I can barely walk straight due to exhaustion, so how he expects me to dance is beyond me. Of course, I can't really tell him why I'm so exhausted since he doesn't know exactly
what
I've been doing. I still can't believe he voted against me. It irritates me but if I tell him so, he's bound to ask questions and then I might blow my own secret which would be counterproductive.
              “Are you okay?” he asks with concern.
              “Yeah—sure,” I say, stifling a yawn.
              “You look tired.”
              Since I can't tell him the real reason, I have to lie which isn't something I particularly enjoy doing although it seems like I’m getting better at it these days.
              “I guess I just haven’t been sleeping well,” I lie. I've been so tired lately that I crash before my head actually hits the pillow. “You know, new room and all. I'm just not used to it yet,” I further explain. 
              “Oh. I'm sure you will get used to it soon,” he assures me. I nod in agreement, not trusting myself to say anything more.
              He leads me through the corridor and out into the gardens. This is the one place I feel the most at ease in this new life of mine. It's almost like I derive my strength from inside these garden walls.
              This is where I first learned about the prophecy, where I first trained and where I first discovered I could speak inside Jacoby's mind. It's also where Grey kissed me for the first time. The memory of that night causes my stomach to flip uncomfortably. He's standing in front of me, his unusual indigo eyes piercing my heart, and I have a feeling that this is going to be a conversation I'm not quite prepared to have.
              “How are you? You know, considering everything?”
              “Not all that great.”
              “And Jacoby being here?”
              “It doesn't matter.”
              “What doesn't?”
              “Him being here—it doesn't change anything.”
              A look of relief washes over his face and I fear he misunderstood me.
              “I know that you think it's too soon, but Mia, you and I, we've been through a lot together. I think you know how I feel, how I've always felt.”
              “Actually, I didn't. I mean, I do now because you told me, but before, I had no idea. I spent so much time being confused by you that it was maddening. You frustrated me. You still do, for that matter.”
              “What did I do now?”
              “You voted against me. How did you think I was going to feel about that?”
              “I don't think it's right. I'm allowed to have an opinion.”
              “You don't think what's right? Learning to protect ourselves?” I'm yelling now which means tears aren’t far behind. Why do I have to be the kind of person who cries whenever I'm mad?
              “It's not that,” he says, then pauses trying to find the right words. “It just feels like we would be stooping to their level. Do you understand what I mean? Our kind—we aren't supposed to be violent.”
              “I realize that, but Dugan is hardly giving us a choice. We can't just sit back and admire the pretty flowers and colorful sunsets. We have to do something and if that means learning to fight on their level then I think we should do it.”
              I'm way too frustrated to even look at him right now. “Can we do this later?” I ask.
              “No.”
              “Excuse me?”
              “No,” he repeats. “You don't get to walk away from me.”
              “And why not?” I snap. “You've walked away from me countless times.”
              He flinches.
              “I never meant to confuse you,” he confesses quietly. “Our situation simply made it impossible to even ponder the possibility of anything more. But now--” he pulls my hand into his and gently rubs the mark on my wrist with his thumb. “We have a real chance. If you will only allow me the opportunity to prove myself worthy.”
              “It was never a matter of your worth.” I sigh. “But it doesn't matter—this isn't the time. Not with everything else going on. My happiness is irrelevant as long as the Dökkálfar are free to do whatever they like and it's all because of me. We have to—I mean, I have to stop them.”             
              All that aside, I'm still not sure it would be fair for me to even consider his proposal when my feelings are still so unresolved with Jacoby.
              It feels like everything is backwards. When I was mortal, Jacoby and I made sense. Now that I'm immortal, we don't.  It breaks my heart and the selfish part of me just wants to forget about the difference in our life spans. But I know it's not fair to him. I just have to keep reminding myself of that fact.
             
“Not being with you isn't fair.”
Jacoby is suddenly there in my head and I wonder how long he's been listening. Did he hear everything that Grey just confessed? If he did, he doesn't say anything about it. He just says,
“I still haven't given up on us.”
              “You should.”
              “I can't.”
              “So I suppose we should begin?” Grey asks, recapturing my attention.
              “I guess so.” I sigh. “What do I do first?”
              He places one hand gently on my waist and uses his other one to take mine, holding it up and out to the side in typical ballroom-style. I instinctively look down, worried that I might step on his feet.
              “Don't look down,” he instructs, gently lifting my chin with one of his fingers.  “Just look at me.”
              If only he realized that might be more dangerous than looking down at my feet—staring into his beautiful eyes tends to make me a little lightheaded and woozy.
              The official dance is actually quite simple and, thanks to my years of cheerleading experience, I'm able to catch on and memorize it quickly. Or perhaps Grey is just an excellent teacher—he seems to do everything else perfectly so that shouldn't come as any surprise.              
              “Okay,” Grey says. “Remember it's a one-two-hop, one-two-hop.”
              “This seems really awkward.”
              “Well, it is technically supposed to be a group dance.” Grey muses, seemingly lost in thought for a minute.
              “It's not just that. Why are we still going through with this ball? Why do I need to learn this stupid dance? This is such a waste of time,” I rant, unable to hide my frustration any longer.
              “I'm sorry you feel like I'm wasting your time by teaching you the official dance of our people.”
              “Sorry. I know that this isn't your fault—you're just trying to help. Don't you understand though why I'm so frustrated?”
              “I do. But there's nothing we can do right now. The council wants to wait for the alliance. So you might as well learn this. It's part of your life now.”
              “I know. Okay. But you said it's supposed to be a group dance? How am I going to learn to do it properly?”
              “I can see if Adele and maybe Klaus would be willing to help.”
              “I'm sure they both would be more than willing,” I mutter, wondering to myself which of the two would be more excited to rush to the aid of their shared, and seemingly oblivious, crush.
              “Wait here and I'll go see if I can find them,” he tells me.
              “Yep.” I plop down on the ground and casually pick at the grass. A shadow casts in front of me and I look up to see Jacoby.
              “I'm surprised to find you alone,” he remarks as he sits down next to me.
              “I spend more time alone than not,” I point out.
              “Lucky for me then.”
              “I didn't know you were trying to get me alone.”
              “I'm not. Not really.”
              I try to ignore the disappointment that squashes my heart. I know it shouldn’t bother me, but these mixed signals he keeps sending are messing with my head.
              “What do you want then?”
              “To enjoy the sun, of course.”
              “Well, then I'll leave you to it,” I say as I start to get up. His hand reaches out to stop me.
              “You know, I wouldn't be opposed to being alone with you here. I was just under the impression that's the last thing you would want.”
              “You can't know what I want.”
              “And why is that?”
              “Because I'm not really sure myself,” I admit quietly. He reaches out and tucks a wayward strand of hair back behind my ear. The small gesture sends shivers down my spine and my breath catches in my chest—which he notices immediately.
              “That's not true.”
              “What do you mean that's not true?” I snap.
              “You know exactly what you want. You're just too afraid to admit it.”
              “You don't know anything.”
              “I don’t know much, but I do know your heart.”
              “Jacoby—”
              “Shh.” He places a finger on my lips. “What are you doing here anyway?”
              “I'm supposed to be learning the official dance of Álfheimr.”
              “For the ball?”
              “Mm-hm.”
              “So why are you alone?” He smirks. “I thought dancing typically involved more than one person.”
              “Grey went to find some help.”
              “Ah-ha. Grey. Should've known.” He sighs. “So he's unable to teach you himself?”
              “Don't be a jerk. It's a four person dance.”
              “Sounds lame.”
              “Tell me about it,” I agree.
              He's silent for a moment—watching me intently as though trying to memorize every detail of my face.
              “Come here,” he says, standing up and offering me his hand.
              “What?”
              “Just come here.”
              I let him take my hand and pull me upright. He places my arms around his neck and wraps his around my waist. “We never did make it to prom, did we?”
              “No, I guess we didn't.”
              “So I guess you owe me a dance.”
              “Right now? Here? There's no music.”
              “We don't need any.”
              It's not really dancing, technically just swaying slowly back and forth, but being in his arms again causes my heart to beat so hard that it's making me breathless.
              We dance in the middle of the garden oblivious to our surroundings, just breathing each other in. His grip around my waist is tight, like he doesn’t ever want to let go, and a part of me hopes he doesn't.
              “God, Lark, this feels so right,” he exhales deeply. “I still don't understand why you are so intent on fighting it. I know that you still love me.”
              “Of course I do.”
              “Then why are you being so difficult?” He stops moving me around the garden.
              “Because I can't do this, it isn’t fair.” I drop my arms, taking a step back so I can breathe again. “I'm sorry. I just can't.”
              “But—”
              I'm saved from any further discussion on the matter when Grey returns with Adele and Klaus.
              “Is everything okay?” Grey asks as he registers my expression.
              Jacoby answers for me. “We're good. I was just leaving.”
              He stalks off and I feel like a part of my soul has left with him.