The Toll {Book 2}

24. Yes- Nadia

Before heading home after the Rumoni Restoration meeting, Ferdinand suggested we stop by a cafe and order some of the thick hot chocolate that the LeClaire girls praised so highly. We walked to the nearest cafe, leaving Galina Mosin behind to finish up with her committee and send them home.

The server at the cafe sat us down outdoors, near the street, and took Ferdinand's bungled Flaunsian order in stride. He disappeared for a few minutes, and then returned with two large mugs, almost the size of bowls, filled to the top. He placed them in front of us, steam curling above, and then set down a plate full of long pieces of fried dough, sprinkled with sugar and meant to dunk into our hot chocolate.

Once we were alone, Ferdinand leaned back in his seat. He didn't touch his drink or the fried dough, though I had no trouble dunking the fried dough into my chocolate. It was sweet and buttery, with the slight bitterness of the drink, and I hadn't tasted anything this unnecessary in so long. This was not to sustain, but instead to delight, and I was going to delight in it.

As I licked some chocolate that spilled onto my fingers, Ferdinand exhaled. I glanced at him, my eyebrows drawing together. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." He smiled. "What did you think of the Rumoni Restoration?"

Now I was the reluctant one. I replaced the bit of fried dough I had been about to eat, and folded my hands under the table. He couldn't see them, but they wound around each other as I thought back to the humiliation of my botched dance. Of course, no one there would have any idea that I should have been able to dance that ballet a million times over, but it still felt like they did. I felt like they knew that I had once been so high, only to fall despicably low.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek before answering. "It was interesting. I'm glad to see that many people want to keep Rumoni culture alive, even when the Vigilant want to destroy it."

Ferdinand nodded. "That part, I am grateful for. The Maestro, the choreographer, the painters and poets, they all reminded me of why I felt so fulfilled with my dance in Rumonin. It was like being a part of something bigger. It was using your brain and your heart together, and contributing to an identity that will be handed down."

My breath hitched at his words. It was beautiful, his reason to dance. No wonder he had been able to capture everyone's attention at the Rumoni Restoration meeting, because he was once again creating something. He was with people who wanted to make their names, and the name of Rumonin, into something more.

Yet, what did that mean for me? I had never thought of adding to the cultural identity. I had never thought of my dance as something that was going to be handed down to the next generations. What had I even danced for? Mr. Lennox? Myself? I couldn't tell.

I swallowed, even though my mouth was unbearably dry. When I looked up, Ferdinand watched me, his mouth pressed thin. I hurried to reassure him that I was fine. "You did wonderfully. I'm sure the artists will love to include you in their ranks. The choreographer practically wanted to write you an entire ballet. If he could have you dance all the parts, I think he would."

Ferdinand chuckled. "I don't want him to get too attached. In Rumonin, I took all the glory. Perhaps it's time I support."

I widened my eyes and tilted my head. "Ferdinand. You have the most dance experience in that whole troupe. I don't think Mr. Gramercie is going to allow you to outshine everyone from the back."

"I can make sure that I don't dance well," he replied.

I shook my head. "No, don't. You have talent and promise, Ferdinand. Don't throw it all away." My throat tightened and I struggled to talk past it. "If you're able to dance, you should dance."