Applause rippled through the room, and Aria turned away to hide her flaming cheeks.
Overbearing speech. Mark.
She sighed at the quill’s return, sly as a falcon tricking prey to run in the open.
She sought the food room first, hoping to find a tray of the lemon tarts Baron claimed as the ultimate comfort food.
Her mouth watered at the first bite, and she gave a silent compliment to Leon, which would no doubt be joined by a dozen more by the time she made her way down the table.
A few members of court sidled up to her, complimenting her gown, her speech, her glowing health, and a collection of other attributes. Aria gave a practiced smile and let her enjoyment rest in sampling the food while others talked; for some people, holding conversation in the presence of royalty was a matter of great importance, and if it made them happy, so be it. She wanted Baron’s guests to remember the party as a pleasant one.
Just then, she spotted Baron entering the room, immediately drawn aside by a small crowd of his own. His hand brushed his dress sword once before slowly relaxing to his side. The tenseness of his shoulders eased, and he leaned in slightly to engage in the conversation.
A warm glow spread through Aria at the sight—though it may also have had something to do with the combination of lemon andchiliin her iced cookie.
“Excuse me a moment, everyone.” She stepped away, looking for a servant with drinks.
She saw, instead, Silas.
He’d entered the room with a girl on his arm who looked to be Eliza’s age. She wore a bright pink gown and brighter smile while he carried an air of boredom, perhaps because there were neither bookshelves at hand nor people to accuse of rebellions.
“Lord Silas,” Aria said as he approached. “I thought you remained at the castle.”
The girl beside him gave a small gasp, whispering, “It really is the princess!”
Silas raised an eyebrow. “I remained long enough to quell any rumors I’d run away with you in the night. Then, after your absence was discovered, I volunteered my noble services to return you safely.”
Aria winced. “The thought of rumors hadn’t occurred to me when I invited you. I’m sorry.”
“You are a reckless sort, it seems.”
“I am trying to improve, but it remains ... difficult.”
He nodded, then gestured to the girl. “May I present my sister, Margaret Bennett.”
“Your gown is lovely!” Margaret burst out. “I so wish we had snow in this area.”
“Come enjoy snow at the palace sometime. We have a wonderful hill for sledding. It’s not dignified enough for a court event, but it’s great fun with friends.”
Usually, Aria went with Eliza. Her chest tightened at the thought, though she tried not to show it.
Margaret agreed, then turned as a trio of musicians began to play from the adjoining room. Without another word, she dragged Silas off to dance. Aria trailed, enjoying the music, drifting at the edge of the ballroom. The music was more upbeat than she was accustomed to, and as couples began to kick and spin, she realized it wasnota dance she knew.
A short, stocky man stepped up next to her, and halfway through his bow, Aria felt a rush of panic. Then a voice spoke from behind him.
“Pardon me, Lord Roderick, but I have owed Princess Aria a dance for months now.”
The unfamiliar lord stepped aside to reveal Baron, and whatever calm she initially felt at seeing him vanished as he took her hand and led her toward the quick-stepping chaos, where she would no doubt make a fool of herself.
“Baron,” she whispered, “I’ve never seen this dance.”
He squeezed her hand. “Things are often livelier outside the palace. It’s three steps and a kick; all flash and no difficulty, I promise.”
Then they were in the thick of it. Baron gripped both herhands, set her in an unfamiliar dance pose, and tugged her gently whichever direction she needed to go. Aria stumbled over her feet, then began to see the rhythm, with men and women facing each other for the steps and then angling away for each kick to avoid each other’s shinbones. Her smile grew as she managed a few rotations correctly.
“You’ve mastered it,” said Baron, his posture more relaxed than hers. Just as she finished a kick, he released one of her hands and spun her into a dip, then back up. She laughed.
“Thank you for the tea,” she said. Without the gift of his magic, a lively dance would have been an impossibility. Instead, she felt energized, her steps high.
