Author : Angela N. Hunt

“We’re flying.”

His voice is soft. Satisfied.

Her smile never wavers, nor her posture or the angle of her head to the angle of her swan white neck. But the hand in his squeezes for a half-second. Her feet keep perfect time with his as they glide across the floor, bars of the Blue Danube Waltz carrying them as effortless as their feet.

They slide into a perfect pause.

“Like doves,” she says quietly.

And they’re off again, whirling around each other in a tighter orbit than any binary star.

* * *

Caspurtina, the Residence’s sorceress, turned away from watching the dancers with a satisfied nod. Looked like she’d have her Dancers for the Mystery after all. With a flick of her wrist, she shook out the fingers of one elegant, manicured hand over the surface of a nearby nanoparticle-board table, one of many surrounding the dance floor, each displaying a different fractal star pattern. Starlight fell in brilliant sparkles from her fingertips. Wouldn’t do to have too much residual enchantments mucking up her next working.

The sparkles played havoc with the nano-surface, setting up a new and exciting fractal pattern not in the designer’s specs that then proceeded to make the surface of the table break out in a swath of tiny pansies. She’d have to have someone clean that up.

She took in the group of somber suited investors.

“As you can see, we have all the elements that we require for our gala,” Caspurtina said.

“Will there be a need of additional funds?” the banker from Tokyo inquired.

Caspurtina grinned, pure charm.

“Only if you wish to flatter me,” she replied and he bowed in amused return.

With that, the investors dispersed, off to find other entertainments for the evening.

Caspurtina took one more look at her chosen Dancers, though they didn’t know it yet, taking in the white feathered skirt floating against the sharp black of tuxedo pants, feet flashing like wings.

Really. What better way to summon the ghosts of Fred and Ginger for a command performance?

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