So I danced. I danced for Anders like I was dancing for my husband, and I knew Dominic was watching me from somewhere offstage, and I knew he would know where the heat in my eyes and the tension in my flexed calves came from. Anders responded to my commitment by matching me beat for beat. When I spun, he was there to jerk me into his arms; when I dropped into a trust fall, he was there to catch me. For the first time since the start of the season, we danced like there were no barriers between us, and all it took was a fight so bad that we might never be able to rebuild our friendship.

There would be time to worry about that after we had both survived tonight’s elimination. (In more ways than one. I was still concerned about staying on the show, no matter how much I might wish I weren’t: it’s hard to break the habits of a lifetime. And if either one of us got cut, I was going to be fighting for our lives in a much more literal sense.)

The dance ended with Anders submitting to me, dropping to his knees at my feet. His chest was heaving, shining with sweat in the lights. I mimed snapping his neck, and his body collapsed to the stage as the music stopped. Smirking, I turned and strutted toward the exit, the riotous applause of the audience putting a little extra wiggle into my step.

Halfway there, Brenna appeared, putting an arm around my shoulders and turning me around as she steered me toward the judging table. She was grinning, holding out her other hand as she beckoned to Anders. The lights shifted, going from performance-bright to something more subdued, and I saw the audience for the first time since our dance had started. More than half of them were on their feet, applauding their hearts out. Marisol was in the second row, her pinky fingers in her mouth, whistling ecstatically.

My legs were shaky and my heart was pounding from the combination of adrenaline and exertion, but with that much applause ringing in my ears, it was easy to square my shoulders, raise my chin, and walk confidently beside Brenna to the marks on the stage that showed us where to stand while we faced the judges.

. . . the judges, who were also on their feet. My eyes widened, my mouth going dry at the sight of Lindy standing, Lindy applauding like she wanted to transcend the limitations of flesh striking flesh and become a whole drum corps all by herself. She dropped back into her seat, talking fast, like she wanted to be absolutely sure no one else was going to get a word in before she had her say.

“Valerie, I have always, always been hard on you, and I know you’ve hated me for it. No, don’t deny it—I know what it means when a girl smiles at you with eyes like ice. Well, honey, this, tonight, was the reason why. You were transcendent. For the first time in all the times I’ve seen you dance, you moved that body of yours the way I’ve always known you could.”

Lindy was known for yelling. Sometimes she got so close to the microphone when she did it that the feedback became physically painful. Not this time. Her voice was low, earnest, and utterly without bullshit. She sounded like she meant every word.

“I pulled for you to be in the top twenty of your original season, because I knew you had the potential to be amazing. And I’ve ridden you as hard as I could, because I knew you weren’t living up to that potential. Tonight, I saw that potential become reality. It was worth waiting for. Don’t make me wait for it again.” She started to sit back in her chair before apparently remembering Anders was there. Lindy leaned forward again, focus shifting to him. “Anders, you were clean and solid. Your footwork was good, and if Valerie managed to outshine you, it was only because she finally decided to wake up and start dancing like she should have been dancing from day one. You were both great tonight.”

She glanced at me one more time, and her smile was brief but more valuable than diamonds. Lindy approved of me. Maybe the world was coming to an end after all.

Clint said something complimentary and excited. I wasn’t really listening. Half my mind was taken up with reviewing what Lindy had just said, while the other half was scanning the theater, looking for signs of danger.

The audience was liberally dotted with heads in various shades of gold: the dragons had kept their word and infiltrated the place. I couldn’t see Dominic or Alice, but I knew they were there, sticking to the shadows and ready to move. My counter-charm was cool where it was taped to my inner thigh, despite the fact that I was sweaty and overheated. That was good: it meant it was still working, and I was still sharp . . . or as sharp as it was possible for me to be when I was dizzy from the lack of oxygen and trying to keep my professional smile plastered in place.

Someone was going to get eliminated. Someone was going to get attacked. It was on me to stop it from going any further.