Chapter 19 #2
Raelan moves to stand beside us, his dark eyes tracking our positioning. “The waltz follows a simple pattern,” he says, his voice taking on an instructional tone. “Three beats. One-two-three, one-two-three. The man leads with his left foot forward, the woman steps back with her right.”
“Left foot forward,” I repeat, trying to commit it to memory.
“On the count of one,” Raelan continues. “Then side-step with your right foot on two. On three, bring your left foot to meet your right. That’s your first measure. Then you reverse it—right foot back, left to the side, right foot meets left.”
I nod slowly, mentally walking through the pattern. Forward, side, together. Back, side, together. It sounds simple enough. But in practice? Probably not so simple.
“Ready?” Alina asks.
I tighten my grip on her hand and nod once. “Ready.”
“One-two-three, one-two-three,” Raelan counts, his voice steady and rhythmic.
I step forward with my left foot at the same moment Alina steps back, and for one glorious second, it actually works. Then I step to the side—right on top of her foot. She squeaks.
“Shit, sorry!” I freeze, horrified.
But Alina just laughs and squeezes my hand. “Keep going! Don’t stop. The music won’t stop for you at the ball, so we keep moving through the mistakes.”
Raelan starts counting again, and this time I manage the first pattern without squashing the princess of our realm.
Forward, side, together. Nailed it. But the sense of accomplishment is short-lived, because when I try to reverse the pattern, I forget which foot to move first and end up doing some kind of awkward shuffle step that makes Alina stumble.
“Sorry, sorry—”
“Aric.” Alina’s voice is firm but kind. “Stop apologizing. You’re learning. Now, let’s try that again. Raelan, count us in.”
We run through the basic pattern again and again. Forward, side, together. Back, side, together. My legs feel clumsy and too long, like I’m moving a body that doesn’t quite fit me. But gradually, slowly, my feet start to remember the rhythm.
“Better,” Raelan says after our fifth run-through. “You’re getting the footwork. But you’re still watching your feet.”
I am watching my feet, because if I don’t, I’m terrified I’ll step on Alina again.
“Look at your partner,” Raelan instructs. “In a real dance, you’ll need to maintain eye contact, guide your partner through turns, navigate around other couples. You can’t do any of that while staring at the floor.”
“Trust your body to remember the steps,” Alina says gently. When I finally drag my gaze up from our feet to meet her eyes, she smiles. “There. See? You’re still moving, and you haven’t stepped on me.”
She’s right. Somehow, my feet are still following the pattern—forward, side, together, back, side, together—even without me watching them.
“Good,” Raelan says, and there’s a hint of approval in his voice. “Now, let’s work on your frame. You’re hunching again. It throws off your balance and makes it harder to lead. Keep your shoulders back, your core engaged. You can look down without curling forward.”
I straighten my spine, rolling my shoulders back, and immediately feel more stable.
“Much better,” Alina says. “Now you look like you actually know what you’re doing.”
“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Your Highness,” I say, but I’m grinning despite myself.
She laughs, bright and musical in the quiet of the astronomy tower. “I’m not! You’re pretty good at this. You just needed to get out of your own head.”
When I meet her gaze, she gives me an encouraging smile.
“Better. Now, try leading me through a turn.”
I attempt to guide Alina through what I think is a turn, but it ends up being more of an awkward pivot that nearly sends us both stumbling into one of the crescent-shaped couches.
Raelan steps forward. “Let me show you.”
He extends his hand to Alina, and she takes it without hesitation, falling into the dance frame with practiced ease. They don’t even need to count—Raelan simply begins moving, and Alina follows as if they share the same heartbeat, like they hear music that I can’t.
I watch, transfixed, as they glide through the tower, starlight casting their shadows across the mosaic floor.
Raelan leads her through a series of turns, and Alina spins gracefully, her skirt flaring out around her legs before she comes back into his arms perfectly on beat.
His hand at her waist guides her without looking forced, and she responds instantly, like she’s anticipating his every move.
They make it look so easy.
When Raelan dips her—a controlled descent that has Alina’s long braid swishing across the floor—I realize I’m clenching my fists, intimidated by how good they are at this. He brings her back up smoothly, and they continue dancing, perfectly synchronized, gazing into each other’s eyes as they go.
And I suddenly feel like I’m interrupting something that’s supposed to be private.
“See how he signals the turn?” Alina asks, even as she spins under Raelan’s raised arm. “A gentle lift of the hand, a slight pressure with his palm. That’s all you need.”
Raelan brings them to a stop, and Alina steps back, not even slightly out of breath. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure I just watched something I’ll never be able to replicate. I’m not sure orc feet can move like that.
“Don’t look so discouraged,” Alina says, tipping her head at me. “We’ve been doing this for years. You’ll get there.”
“Years?” I echo weakly.
“You still have time,” Raelan says. “But the principle is the same: practice.”
He gestures for me to take my position again, and I step forward, trying to shake off the intimidation of what I just witnessed.
“Let’s try that turn again,” Alina says, placing her hand in mine. “This time, just think about lifting your hand gently when you want me to spin. I’ll do the rest.”
THE NEXT HOUR PASSES IN a blur of corrections and adjustments.
Despite all my hard runeball practices and games, my legs still ache from the unfamiliar movements, and I definitely step on Alina’s feet at least three times—though she never complains.
Raelan demonstrates the more complex moves with Alina, then watches critically as I attempt to replicate them.
“You’re improving,” Raelan says eventually, and coming from him, it feels like high praise.
“I’m not going to humiliate myself?” I ask, only half joking.
“Not at all,” Alina assures me. She’s barely winded, while I’m fighting to catch my breath. “You just need some practice.”
“One more thing,” Raelan says. “At the end of the dance, you’ll want to thank your partner properly.” He moves to stand in front of me, demonstrating a formal bow.
I copy his movement, bowing low. It feels awkward—I’m not sure I’ve ever bowed to anyone in my life. But if we’re going to be at the castle, I’d better get it right.
When I straighten, Alina is watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“What is it?” I ask, reaching up to smooth a hand over my hair, which I’m sure is a mess now.
“Poppy is very lucky,” she says softly. “To have someone willing to face their fears for her, I mean.”
Something warm spreads through my chest at her words. At the reminder of facing my fear, I tip my head back. The glass dome is etched with glowing golden runes, which mimic the constellations in the night sky.
It’s . . . beautiful. Maybe that’s why people like it up here.
“Same time next week?” Raelan asks. “You’ll need a few more sessions before the ball.”
I nod, already dreading the climb back up here. But when I think of Poppy in my arms, spinning across the ballroom floor, that smile on her face . . .
Yeah. It’s worth it.
“Same time,” I agree.
Alina walks me to the door, Raelan trailing a few steps behind.
“Thank you for doing this,” I say. “Both of you. I know it’s . . . a lot to ask.”
“It’s not,” Alina says warmly. “Honestly, I think it’s wonderful. Poppy will be so happy.”
I manage a genuine smile, even as my stomach clenches at the sight of the spiraling stairs descending into shadowy darkness below. “Thanks, Your Highness.”
“Please, just Alina.”
Raelan gives me a subtle nod—his version of encouragement, I’m learning—and then I start down the spiraling staircase, one hand trailing the cold stone wall, my legs shaky from both exertion and the lingering fear of being so high in the sky.
I focus on the image of Poppy again: The way her eyes lit up when I asked her to the ball in the cookie shop garden.
The softness of her lips against mine when we kissed.
I can do this, I tell myself.
For her, I can face my fears.