Chapter 4 #2
I nod, feeling a pang of guilt that I’m taking Queen Kalise’s only family—the one person she seems to rely on so completely.
I knew this from our correspondence, from his letters describing how much she depends on him, but I assumed he wouldn’t have agreed to this match without her blessing. Perhaps I was wrong.
We reach the platform where the monarchs sit, and I curtsy as Leland bows low.
My mother and father rise and make their way to the ballroom floor, Queen Kalise following behind.
My brother meets her with another bow as he takes her gloved hand.
There’s a tightness between them, as though both would rather walk barefoot across crushed glass than take the other’s hand.
The gaslight chandeliers dim. The music begins. I feel Leland’s hand rest lightly at the small of my back. My hand finds his shoulder, and we begin a fluid dance. It’s an upbeat, energetic song, just as Mother prefers.
“You’re an excellent dancer,” Leland murmurs near my ear. His head bends, his lips only a breath away, his closeness tickling my exposed skin. “You tolerate my lanky body so well.” His tone is self-deprecating, but I smile behind the mask.
“You’re too harsh on yourself. Word of your dancing skill reached me long ago.” He sends me into a heart-thudding twirl before drawing me back in. “Did you think I’d choose a husband who couldn’t share one of my favorite pastimes?”
He chuckles before spinning me again. “No, we cannot have Princess Genevieve standing by the wall because her flat-footed husband cannot dance properly.”
“We must certainly avoid that disaster.” As he pulls me close, I wish I felt something more—a spark, a flutter—anything beyond this quiet sense of contentment. Leland makes me laugh, he dances beautifully, and yet I feel no romantic stirring for my future husband.
It’s all simply… fine. I know there is a chance romance might come later. It will, in time—I’m sure of it. Until then, we’ll make do with friendship.
As the music fades, the court and guests descend onto the floor, partners lining up for the first dance with the court.
“Shall we?” Leland asks, and I agree. It’s true, I love dancing. I love the feeling of being swept away by my partner, and knowing that Leland is a good dancer makes it easy to partner with him again.
This song is just as lively as the last, and Leland pulls me close enough to border on indecency—which isn’t difficult to do in Queen Penelope’s court.
But we aren’t the only ones. Other couples are already quite close, emboldened by the semblance of anonymity.
As we dance, we talk and laugh together.
The more time I spend with Leland, the more certain I become that I can make this work, even if our marriage is destined to be founded on friendship and little else.
After our second dance, Leland helps me find another glass of sparkling wine, and Lord Ambrose—one of my mother’s councilors—asks me to dance. I accept, even though I know he’s not the most talented of partners.
Leland assures me that he’d like to dance with me again before our engagement is announced, then leaves to ask Astoria to dance. Unlike me, Astoria prefers to observe the balls from the edges of the room, and I’m surprised to see her gloved hand in his.
The dance with Lord Ambrose is a slower tune, which spares my feet from being trampled too many times, but once is quite enough.
After that, I dance with several dignitaries and lords until Astoria pulls me aside, insisting I have a drink and something to eat.
“You’ll exhaust yourself if you continue like that, and they still haven’t even announced your engagement!”
I take small sips of lemonade and bites of a savory dish.
“What do you think of Prince Leland?” I ask. She’s danced with him twice, and I hope she’s formed an opinion.
Astoria looks thoughtful as she gazes at the dancers. “He seems to fit your requirements for a husband. His experience helping his sister rule Icelantica will be invaluable, and he appears to be a man with a charming disposition.”
I purse my lips. “But?”
Astoria shrugs, and if I could see her whole face, I know she’d be giving me that exasperated look she always does when she thinks I’m overthinking. “But what? You’ve been clear about what you want in a husband. I think he’ll do well enough.”
My shoulders slump slightly before I catch myself and stand straight. “I like him. He’s kind. It’s just… I don’t feel any romantic inclinations toward him yet. And I worry.”
“Give it time,” my sensible little sister replies. “You’ve only just met, and you shouldn’t put unnecessary pressure on yourself. I understand your reasons—your gift, the time constraints. You want to feel something for him before he’s overtaken by your gift, but forcing the matter won’t help.”
I take a deep breath. “You’re right. It’s just that I need this to work with him. Everything depends on this union being a success.”
Astoria shakes her head, probably already weary of my worries. As the music slows, I notice a man approaching us. In the dim light of the ballroom, it takes me a moment to realize who it is.
It’s Mr. Morris Blackwell—and my traitorous heart leaps when he takes my hand and asks me to dance.