Tags: fantasy, romance, AI story, free reading, NovelHot<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am a Whisperer, one of the last of my kind. I have the power to bargain with the gods, to perform a Spirit Dance that can alter fate. But every miracle has a price. I have danced twice for William, the prince I love. The first dance cost me my sight. The second, my youth, turning my hair to silver. He swore I would never have to dance again. He lied. Now, after ten years together, his politically-appointed wife, Elara, is dying, and William is begging me to perform the third and final dance to save her life. He tells me the cost is a small price to pay for a life, but he doesn’t understand the sacrifice. The third dance takes what you hold most dear. To save my rival, I will have to give up the one thing I cannot bear to lose: my memories of him. He thinks he can save his wife and keep me. He’s wrong. This last dance won’t just save a life\u2014it will shatter a love built on sacrifice and rewrite our past into nothing but dust.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chapter 1: The Third Request<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ten years. I\u2019d loved William for ten years. Now he wanted me to use my final Spirit Dance to save his wife\u2014the woman he\u2019d been married to for seven of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou know there\u2019s a price,\u201d I told him, my voice flat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He didn\u2019t even flinch. \u201cJane, it\u2019s just some thing. A trinket. For her, it\u2019s her life!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He got his wish. I danced for the third time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And the price was him. I forgot everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019m a Whisperer. I can perform the Spirit Dance three times in my life. The first two were for him. After each, he\u2019d kept me tucked away in this manor, a secret everyone knew. The Prince who didn\u2019t love his Princess; he loved the nameless Whisperer. He\u2019d turned down every girl who threw herself at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy heart only has room for Jane,\u201d he\u2019d say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But on our tenth anniversary, he wasn\u2019t here. I sat in front of a table of cold food, watching the sun go down. He said he was busy. A lie. His wife, the Princess, was sick again. He was with her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was his wife, by law and by title. A tragic figure, really. We were first, a love story written in stolen moments. The royal marriage came later. To prove his heart was mine, he hadn\u2019t even performed the ceremony with her. He barely knew her name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cElara is sick\u2026 Who\u2019s Elara?\u201d he\u2019d asked once, genuinely confused, while overseeing the laying of gravel paths. The paths were for me. Because I was blind, he\u2019d made every walkway a terrain I could navigate by sound. He\u2019d even removed all the thresholds. He\u2019d test them himself, blindfolded, and come back covered in bruises, laughing it off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He used to be so careful with me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now, he was careful with someone else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe\u2019s dying, Jane,\u201d he\u2019d said last night. \u201cDon\u2019t fight me on this. Not now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So I didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I listened to the servants outside, their voices carrying on the evening breeze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s so festive tonight! The Prince is giving the Princess a proper wedding night, to bring her good fortune!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShh! Don\u2019t let her hear you! He doesn\u2019t want her to know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Right. So easy to keep a secret from a blind woman. If they just whispered, I\u2019d know nothing. I wouldn\u2019t know that while I waited for him, he was sharing a candlelit room with another woman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I just stood there. Listening. Waiting. He told me not to fight, so I wouldn\u2019t. I knew when a battle was already lost.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Later, wrapped in cold sheets, I stared into the darkness. He finally came back, smelling of medicine and guilt, and slid his arms around me from behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cJane. You have to save her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My heart turned to ice. \u201cAnd how do you want me to do that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His silence was a blade. It twisted, sharp and serrated, before he finally spoke, the words tearing from his throat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou still have the third dance\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I said nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He must have read the refusal in my silence because his grip tightened on my shoulders. \u201cJane, for you it\u2019s just giving up some trinket! For her, it\u2019s her life!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His words hit me like a physical blow. I was blind, but I could imagine the look on his face. In ten years, he\u2019d never spoken to me like that. Not once. He\u2019d always been weighed down by guilt, treating me like fragile glass. He\u2019d wash my feet without a word of complaint.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He must have realized his mistake. I heard the rustle of silk as he softened his grip, taking my hand. I tried to pull away, but he held on tight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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