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She glanced at Gia, who gestured behind his back at the curved sword on his hip, signalling that she ought to be careful.
And she was right. It could be a ruse, to get close enough to kill her. It wouldn’t serve her to be too trusting.
‘Only if you remove that first,’ said Claudia, indicating his weapon. ‘I wouldn’t like to injure myself.’
The prince smiled and obliged, before escorting her out into the centre of the throne room.
‘This partner dance is performed at weddings,’ he said. ‘It is about harmony and union and the synchronicity of all things, coming together and parting again, like the waves beating the sand.’
The prince clapped his hands, stamping his foot at the same time, spinning quickly before circling back to sweep her up.
‘Maybe one day, we will dance it at our own wedding.’
‘Ha! Maybe,’ she said, in a high pitch.
Darius attempted to teach her the steps, and though she quickly memorized them, putting them into practice wasn’t as simple.
Gia watched as they whirled about the polished marble floor. Distracted by the look on her face, Claudia stood on the prince’s toes.
‘Oof,’ he said. ‘Wrong way.’
‘I must apologize once more, Prince Darius. I have no rhythm, I’m afraid,’ said Claudia, tripping over her own robes again. ‘I am proficient in some other arts, but not this.’
‘You are not so terrible,’ he said.
‘That’s kind of you. Generous.’
‘Here, let me show you.’
He placed her hand on his shoulder and lightly gripped her waist, leading them into a curving movement. His touch did not alight her mind and soul, as Gia’s did, but it was not unpleasant. He didn’t repulse her, at least. His hands were soft and firm and cool, with golden rings on the fingers and leather cuffs at his wrists. He was wearing some kind of musky perfume, which had a pleasant scent.
‘What other arts are you proficient in?’ he asked.
‘Singing, weaving, poetry, painting…’
As they moved in unison, she caught his eyes lingering on the curves of her body, not lustfully but thoughtfully, contemplatively.
She felt the situation spinning, spiralling.
‘There is no higher art than the body’s response to music,’ he said. ‘It is an expression of the innermost soul.’
‘That doesn’t bode well for me, if I am bad at it.’
‘Not so. You can learn. You have that flame inside you.’
‘I don’t know about that.’
‘It is true… I can feel it.’
The tension between them thickened.
‘Can you?’ he said.
The music seemed to swoop and sway, like a murmuration of birds, making Claudia unsteady on her feet.
‘Can I… what?’ she said, playing stupid.
‘Feel that burning, between us?’
