Chapter 20 #2
“Which is why you would make the perfect Queen! You have lived among the people and seen the city at its worst.” Pausing, she reaches out and pulls me to a stop, her expression bright with excitement. “You want change, and in that position, you could truly see it out.”
For a few heavy seconds, I allow myself to imagine it. Myself as Queen at Amir’s side, making true progress amongst the people and healing the rift between and the rest of the city. It is a beautiful dream, and that is all it will ever be. The citizens of Rune would never accept me as their Queen.
Thankfully Abbie doesn’t push the issue and clears her throat, gesturing to an open doorway just ahead. “We are here now, my Lady.”
Scowling at the use of my fake title and generally feeling grumpy, I glare at the doorway with suspicion. “Where are we?”
“Dance lessons,” she replies brightly, gesturing toward me in a shooing gesture. “Madame Grey is going to teach you.”
I look at her in panic. I really should have listened to her instead of blindly agreeing. Dancing. I would rather face another night on the streets than take these lessons. Not to mention, who is Madame Grey and why does her name strike fear in me?
Seeing my startled expression and rigid posture, she smile gently, placing her hand on the small of my back. Pushing me forward, she pats my arm comfortingly, her grip surprisingly strong.
“Don’t worry, Lady, I shall stay with you. You will be fine.”
An hour later and I think Abbie is regretting offering to stay.
Madame Grey is strict and does not take failure lightly, insisting I repeat the same steps over and over again until she is satisfied.
On discovering that Abbie was staying as moral support, Madame Grey quickly put her to work, designating her as my dance partner.
Of course, she had never danced as a male before, so it was a masterclass for her too.
“Remember your neck, Lady Kiara.” The Madame calls out for the third time during this one section of the dance alone. “You want to extend it up gracefully and keep your head high, like a swan, not a deranged pigeon.”
Never in my life have I been compared to so many types of fowl in one sitting.
I am not sure whether to be offended that she thinks I resemble a deranged pigeon, or strangely proud.
Abbie is having a hard time containing her laughter, and each time the Madame insults me it only seems to become more difficult for her.
I can understand why she is attempting to hold back her amusement though, as Madame Grey will not stand for it.
This is something I can attest to, having been at the sharp end of her lectures several times.
We are working on my waltz, my feet not wanting to obey the beat of the music and a knock at the door makes us all pause.
Madame Grey practically vibrating with frustration at being interrupted.
“Can you not read? The sign says do not enter!” she shouts toward the door, switching off the music in the process.
I feel a tinge of sympathy to the poor soul which has incurred her wrath, but mostly I am happy to have a rest. My aching arms drop to my sides and I see Abbie do the same, blowing out her cheeks slightly as she attempts to cool down.
Despite this, the person in the corridor is not perturbed and swings open the door.
Prince Amir steps into the room and the atmosphere immediately changes.
Something passes through my body, like an electric bolt, causing my whole body to suddenly feel alive.
My aches are gone and my mind energised.
Abbie and the Madame quickly drop into curtsies as they realise who is paying us a visit, but Amir’s eyes stay locked on me, his smile bright and stare intense.
My body is frozen in place, unable to curtsey or even move as the memory of the feel of his lips against mine is suddenly fresh in my mind.
“Your highness!” Madame cries out, her voice full of regret. “I apologise, I did not realise it was you!”
“Please do not worry, Madame Grey.” He steps into the room, smiling at the aging woman and dipping his head in greeting.
Unbuttoning his decorated jacket, he slips it off to reveal a smart white shirt beneath.
The top two buttons are undone and show a flash of his chest, causing my mind to go utterly blank.
I have seen far more of a man than what the prince has on display and that didn’t turn me into a salivating moron, so why am I reacting this way to Amir? Breathe in, breathe out, I instruct myself until I can think clearly once more.
Why is he here? More importantly, why is he rolling up his sleeves, showing off his tanned forearms? Abbie is looking at me pointedly, our conversation fresh in our memories. Ignoring her, I try to focus on the conversation that is now happening between him and the Madame.
“I heard that dance lessons were underway and I thought you might require a male partner.”
No. Oh no, no, no. Learning to dance is bad enough, but add on the fact he is going to be my partner and I think I’m about to combust. After I practically pounced on him yesterday, my plan was to avoid him as much as possible. However, the gods seem to have other plans.
“That is so thoughtful of you, your highness.” Abbie jumps in before I can say otherwise, excusing herself from my side and moving over to stand by the window. Eyes wide, I glare at her. What is she doing? She’s abandoned me, leaving me to the wolves.
Traitor, I mouth at her. She just smiles back at me, giving the prince a pointed look.
I need to be sensible and just push through this.
Abbie may have put me in an awkward position but she is still here as support as she promised.
Taking a deep breath, I steal myself and turn to face Amir.
He’s waiting for me with a smile, arms opened wide as he gestures for me to take my position.
In his arms. His hand on my waist. Our bodies pressed together…
“No.” The word slips from my mouth before I have fully computed my response. There are shocked gasps but it is the prince that I keep my gaze locked on.
“No?” the prince asks with a quirk to his lips. I doubt he’s heard the word often, and thankfully for me he finds my refusal amusing and not highly offensive. Anyone else might have been beheaded for that sort of snub toward royalty.
“Lady Kiara!” Madame Grey’s voice is full of outrage and I can only imagine the expression on her face. “You cannot refuse the prince!”
I definitely shouldn’t have refused like I did. I have to think of a reason behind turning him down. Think Kiara, think! “We couldn’t possibly ask you to waste your time on dance lessons, your highness.”
He just continues to smile, and I know that he knows the truth of why I don’t want to dance together. “Time with you is never a waste, Kiara. It would be an honour.”
Butterflies erupt in my stomach at his sweet words and I become more desperate for an excuse. “I will just tread on your feet.”
“I think I can cope,” he grins, shaking his head. “You might as well learn to dance with me now as you shall be at the ball.”
He’s not going to take no for an answer, that much is clear, his last comment takes me by surprise though.
We are going to be dancing together at the ball?
I knew I was going to be forced to dance, but with Amir, in front of everyone?
Gods above. Pressed against the prince all evening while my thoughts are so…
active. I am going to make a huge fool of myself.
“What do you mean?” I ask on a croak, needing clarification as my voice threatens to break.
Amir lowers his arms, taking pity on me and closes the distance between us. “The ball is in your honour. Usually, it would be the king who takes the first dance, but I am taking my father’s place.”
“It is an honour.” Madame chimes in, her voice sharp and disapproving. Not of the prince, oh no, even from their short interaction I can tell she worships him. It is me that she doesn’t like, that and my blatant disregard for tradition.
I ignore her, not really caring what she thinks of me. What I do need is to focus on the real issue at hand. Okay, one dance with the prince tonight, I think I can manage that. Right?
He seems to be sensing what I’m thinking, and winks at me. “Of course I will be asking for more dances throughout the ball.”
I have no idea how to reply. The way he’s behaving and his cheeky wink have thrown me.
Not to mention he just informed me that we would be dancing together many times tonight.
That he would be requesting dances with me.
Does this mean that he liked the kiss? That he feels similarly drawn?
All last night I have been convincing myself that he would want nothing to do with me.
He might have returned my kiss, but in the moment, he might have been shocked and was being gentlemanly by not rejecting me on the spot.
That possibility is seeming less likely now that he’s actively sought me out today, when he could have just ignored me and what happened in the garden.
“Let’s get started then,” Madame Grey calls out, taking my silence as acceptance. “We were working on a waltz your highness.”
Amir gently takes my hand in his, squeezing gently in encouragement.
Our eyes meet and something passes between us that transcends words.
It is a feeling I have only ever felt when working with my gemstones, and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
I want to trust him, and that is something I never expected to feel toward the prince.
Slowly, as though afraid I might spook and run away, he leads me out onto the floor.
Dancing with the prince. I cannot believe I am about to do this.
Nausea fills me and I feel lightheaded, the very thought making me sick.
Glancing down at my hands, I hover, not knowing where to put them.
Everything I learnt from Madame Grey has escaped my mind.
It was different when I was dancing with Abbie, but now, with the prince as my partner, it seems very important to get right.
“Relax,” he whispers, expression sympathetic. Rolling his shoulders back, he raises his arms in the correct hand hold. His right hand rests on my lower back, and his left takes my free hand, raising it up.
“You are too far apart.” Madame Grey shouts across the room and I cannot hide my wince. That only means one thing.
“She is right,” he whispers with a smile, using my waist to pull me closer.
Our hips brush against each other as I stand just to the side of him.
It’s an odd position, but he makes it feel so easy, his frame solid and true.
Dancing with Abbie didn’t feel like this.
With Amir, it almost feels like I was made to fit in the crook of his arm, our bodies slotting together like a puzzle piece.
I forget that we are being watched, and all of my insecurities fade away, my gaze locked on his crystal blue eyes.
He doesn’t speak, yet we communicate nonetheless through soft smiles.
The music begins and we start to move. I stumble over the first few steps, but his frame is so strong that we quickly shift onto the next step and continue as though nothing happened. With him leading me, the steps suddenly make sense, my feet practically gliding across the floor.
We come to a stop, the music ending, except it feels as though I’m in a trance, unable to step from Amir’s hold.
How long do we stand like this, simply staring at each other as though something has just changed?
I have no idea, nor can I quantify what exactly happened between us when we were dancing.
“Much improved, Lady Kiara! Just remember to keep that left elbow lifted.” Madame Grey’s voice cuts through our quiet moment, but I let her words gloss over me completely.
Taking a half-step back, I attempt to put some space between us despite my heart screaming to stay in his arms. Even so, to stand so close to the prince probably breaks about ten different rules.
The small distance between us seems to snap him from his trance and he blinks slowly, shaking his head. A slow smile pulls at his lips. “You are a natural.”
“You are a brilliant leader.” I beam up at him, happiness flowing through my body like our dance has washed away my fears. By no means am I suddenly a brilliant dancer, but Amir makes me feel as though I can do anything.
However, something changes in his gaze, his expression becoming troubled.
Everything about him has shifted; he is no longer Amir, but Prince Amir.
Any happiness that I had felt vanishes in an instant at the change.
Oh no, what did I do? I must have hit a nerve with my comment, although I’m not sure why.
Did I remind him of his responsibilities?
Was I too keen and he suddenly remembered where I am from?
Opening my mouth, I start to apologise but he stops me by raising my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against it.
“Apologies, Lady Kiara, but I am needed elsewhere.” Stepping back, he formally bows at the waist. Standing, he smiles, but the warmth that I am used to seeing there is gone. “I look forward to seeing you at the ball this evening.”
Heart in my throat, I attempt to say something again as he walks over to the madame. I frown, not knowing what to make of what is happening. Amir quickly finishes his conversation with our instructor and marches from the room with only a quick glance back over his shoulder.
Clearly something happened in the moment after we finished dancing, but what? Was it something I said or did? Perhaps a more important question to ask is why do I care so much?