“The Lieutenant is very modest,” an older lady says, pleased.
Garrick frowns. “Yes, he’s extraordinarily good at flying under the radar.”
The bearded lord raises his hand. “I must say, though, I saw one of our pilots practicing yesterday near the palace and what a splendid display it was! Perfect talent. Why, if our boys had your magnificent aeroplanes, they’d be unstoppable.”
The Princess meets my eye, secret amusement quivering between us, and I make a slight face.
“Congratulations, Princess,” Havis says. “You seem to have found yourself a man in uniform who’s humble about it.”
She doesn’t look at him. “Please go bother someone else for a while, Ambassador.”
“As you’d like, but don’t let him off the hook too easily.”
“Something I should have thought of long ago with you.”
He appears amused. “Enjoy the evening, Princess. Lieutenant.”
I nod, wondering what, exactly, he’s up to. If he’s on our side, then he’s as much of a bastard about it as Garrick, and I suddenly feel very alone at the table. I don’t even have Cyar.
I pick up a cloth napkin and get to work.
“What are you doing?” the Princess says after a moment.
“Folding.”
“Folding?”
“It’s fun to do.” I finish, then hand her the little swan I’ve made.
She studies it, holding it like it’s made of glass, looking between me and the swan like there’s some invisible thing to be discovered there.
Then she squashes it.
“You killed it,” I say.
She smiles again. Her fingers work quickly, reassembling the cloth, tying this way and that, then she hands it back. A flower. “This one won’t be bad luck.”
She looks friendly between the flickering candelabras, and I can feel her reaching across the divide, trying to offer something real. Against my better judgment, I reach back. She can’t know who I am. Or if she does, she’s better at this game than I ever want to be. “I’m still sad you killed my swan.”
She laughs. “So, what else do you do, Lieutenant? I mean, when you’re not at war and all that.”
I shrug. “Paperwork.”
“And?”
“More paperwork.”
“Oh.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“Not at all! I just thought…”
“Go on.”
“Well, you’re Safire. You must do something special.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know. Flying blindfolded, maybe.”
I snap my fingers. “Yes, I completely forgot to mention that part.”
A giggle’s hidden behind her palm. “I assume that’s how you won Karkev?”
“That and our talent with wine toasting.”
She laughs out loud now, bright and honest, and I almost do the same. Hers is contagious. But she coughs it away just as suddenly, casting a glance to Sinora, who’s watching us both with a bemused expression.
The Princess contains herself quickly, fiddling with her cutlery and lining them up on her empty plate. She avoids my gaze, our moment of solidarity gone.
“Dance with me,” I say.
It’s one of those times when I surprise even myself.
“Dance?” she repeats.
I nod to where others have begun to waltz, violins and cellos and the rest of it. “Yes. I’m not very good, I admit, but … well…”
She waits.
“I’ve never danced with a royal. And maybe you’d be willing to give me the honour?”
A faint blush of pink appears across her nose. “I…” She glances at the head of the table again.
“Come with me, Princess, or I’ll have to pick someone else.”
I push from the table and leave her behind.
Please don’t come. Please don’t come.
Then why did I say it? Was it for Sinora or for me? I don’t know, and I wait at the edge of the dance floor, wondering what I’ve done, afraid of this girl I barely know.
The scent of jasmine appears at my side.
“Thank God you came,” I lie. “I was worried I’d have to ask your brother.”
She laughs, but it’s a bit hesitant again, like she senses my fiction.
I hold out my gloved hand—I think that’s what I should do—and she takes it. We skirt the group to a less crowded corner, eyes following us the entire way, and I’m not sure how to begin. “I have another confession to make, Princess. I only know how to waltz in theory.”
“You’ve lured me out here and you don’t know how to dance?”
“I assumed you’d be the expert.”
She makes a little exasperated noise, like the one Cyar made earlier, then puts my arm around her waist. “Violet was right, then. You’ll have to be the woman and follow my lead.”
She presses closer, apparently comfortable with this, and I suddenly realize that this might be the most of a girl I’ve ever held at once. “Should I find this insulting?” I ask, trying a joke. My breath’s coming a bit shorter. I hope she can’t tell.
“No, though everyone in the room will think you dance like a lady.”
With that grinning jab, she begins the waltz, taking evident pleasure in pushing me here and there, coaching our steps and counting the beats. I’m terrible. Truly miserable. I run us right into another couple by accident and they mutter something about the damn Safire getting in the way.
That’s just unfair.
The Princess gives me another pitying look. “You’re really not very good at this.”
“It’s not as easy as flying blindfolded. My feet keep getting in the way. I don’t know what they’re doing.”
She laughs freely, too close, thin blue fabric against my arms. I can feel the heat from her, the gentle curves. Her skin’s the colour of sun-washed sand, a softly scented warmth that I feel through my uniform, through my own skin and muscle and bone. I feel it everywhere. And I wonder what she thinks of me. She can’t know the truth. She wouldn’t look at me like this if she did. And I like the way she’s looking.
“Princess Aurelia,” Father calls.
I nearly put us into another couple pushing her from me. She spins around.
He’s standing at the edge of the floor, Malek at his side. Malek’s lips rise on one end.
“Your mother has outdone herself,” Father says. “I hardly feel worthy of such a reception.”
The Princess smiles. “You deserve all of it, General.”
He nods, watching, certainly noting her hand still half around my arm. “You’re a gracious host yourself,” he says after a moment. “But you needn’t humour us too far.” He smiles, glancing at me. “I didn’t know you could dance, Lieutenant.”
I’m not sure why, but guilt has me by the throat. There’s nothing to be guilty about. I’m doing exactly what he wanted. It’s the worst time and place to lose words around him.
“I was teaching Lieutenant Erelis how to waltz,” the Princess says, rescuing me. “No one’s ever shown him.”
“Evidently,” Father says, amused.
Malek laughs, a rare thing, and they both turn, moving on in the direction of Sinora’s table. I’m not sure if I’ll be hearing about this later. Since I’m not his son here, there’s not much he can do in the immediate future. Though there is Garrick.…
“Will you get in trouble for this?” the Princess asks me.
“No, I don’t think so.” I spot Cyar at the mostly empty Safire table, playing with a wine glass, bored. My escape. “Though I should head back. It looks like I’ve left him on his own long enough, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, I think you’re right,” she says, studying Cyar with careful consideration. Then she releases my arm and gives a cheeky smile. “You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.”
Another bit of laughter escapes me. “Thank you, Princess. And thank you for dancing with me. It was an honour.”
“No, the honour was mine.”
She seems to mean it, and I want to tell her, “No, it isn’t and you don’t know what you’re saying.”
Instead, I say, “I’ll try not to forget what you’ve taught me.”
I walk away while I still can, threading between the chatter and music, and Cyar sighs when I drop into the seat beside him. “Your table sounded far more exciting than mine,” he says.
“I’m never doing that again.”
“Your father seemed pleased.”
“He’d better damn be.”
I rub at my forehead. It’s a relief to speak Savien. Familiar, easy words. An hour of fast and formal Landori has my brain knotted.