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I stepped on her feet not once, not twice, not thrice, but four mortifying times!
On the last occurrence, I cringed, and poor Clemencia sucked in a breath before her features rearranged themselves into an expression of serene patience once more. “Perhaps we should rest a moment?”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I am trying, but—”
“You need a stronger hand.”
We spun to find Roar in the doorway. He leaned against one of the golden snow leopards, his arms crossed over his barrel chest and red cheeks glowing in a way that hinted he’d just returned inside from the cold.
“A stronger hand?” I smirked and arched an eyebrow. While I’d been recovering from the orc attack, we’d taken our meals together in my room and I was feeling far more comfortable around the warden. “And I suppose you’re here to provide one?”
Roar inclined his head. “If my lady wishes.”
“I don’t know . . . I’ve never been fond of others telling me what to do.” Though I spoke true, I kept my tone light and playful.
He winked and prowled closer, exhibiting as much feline grace as the leopard of his noble house. “I assure you I’m only speaking of dancing, Lady Neve. And trust that I am known for my grace on the dance floor.”
I snorted at the dig on my dancing skills. Who could argue? Surely, as he spied on us, he’d seen me stomp on my lady-in-waiting’s feet.
“He is a very good dancer,” Clemencia said in a low tone. “My lord throws a ball each Winter Solstice, and all the ladies in Guldtown line up to dance with him.”
I grinned when Roar gave a shrug that told me he’d heard every word Clemencia had said and he didn’t disagree. “Then I guess I should see what all the fuss is about.”
Roar came up to me and Clemencia melted into the corner of the room as Roar took my hand. “Your lady-in-waiting already taught you the steps? I couldn’t tell from what I’d witnessed.”
I rolled my eyes dramatically. “She did. Don’t blame Clemencia, I’m just that poor a pupil.”
“All of that is about to change. Follow my lead.” He swept me into the same dance Clemencia had shown me, though with no verbal cues. Rather, Roar led with steady hands and confident steps that stole my breath and left me with no room to question where we were going next. I simply followed with surety, and maybe even a little grace. It was in that moment that I realized he was right—I did need a strong hand. As we swung around the ballroom, I didn’t stumble or step on his feet once.
No, under Roar’s strong hand, I flew.
We spun and glided across the dance floor like we’d been dance partners for forever. Like I hadn’t massacred Clemencia’s feet mere minutes before. Though no music played, I imagined the tunes I’d heard in the Vampire Court, usually coming from vampire taverns, and somehow, they fit the way we moved.
“Last twirl.” Roar sent me into a spin. I whirled away from him and returned, pressing my back against his chest with a smile.
“That was wondrous!” I laughed.
He turned me around and took my hands, continuing to sway gently with a smug look on his face. “See? You just needed the right teacher.”
“I suppose I did.” I conceded. “Though someone should teach him some humility.”
Roar barked out a laugh and spun me once more before releasing me and giving a small bow. “Humility was not included in my father’s warden lessons. Not even for the spare heir to the western territory.”
I paused. The question had been burning in my mind and now seemed like the best opening I would get. “What happened to them? Your family, I mean?”
Frode had told me they died, which came as a shock. Faeries lived quite a long time, some for thousands of turns. The painting of the two younglings in Roar’s study came rushing back. They’d been only a few turns apart in age, both so young.
“They’re dead.” He pulled away. “My older brother, Brogan, as well.”
I swallowed as his once joyful face fell, contorted with pain. Roar didn’t want to open up about it. “I’m sorry for asking.”
“It’s alright. Without them, the castle is empty, so your curiosity is only natural. I have had almost two decades to come to terms with the loss. They perished when I was seven turns, nearly eight. My brother was only ten.” His voice broke as he spoke of his brother, and pain flashed in his eyes.
Instead of pressing, I sought to ease the pained lines on his face. “Time heals wounds, but there’s no saying how much of it is necessary to do so.”
He gave me a soft, knowing smile. “You speak the truth.”
I checked that Clemencia stood far away. “Vampires lie, but I’ve found that the books they gave us ring true. Mostly, anyway.”
