Page 57 of The Exile's Curse

He laughed and swung her into place.

The music started, a swirl of strings and some sort of long pipe that pulsed low and deep, setting a steady rhythm that made her toes twitch. The next hour or so became a blur of dancing and laughing as she tried to cover her inevitable mistakes. Thankfully, most of them laughed with her.

The dances had begun with some slower choices, but the musicians quickened the pace with each set that passed until each dance was a whirl of spinning and changing partners and trying to catch her breath each time there was a minute’s pause at the end of a song. At least the speed limited the need for conversation. Eventually the musicians came to a halt and stood for applause.

Mikvel led Katiya off the dance floor, and as soon as his feet were both clear of the inlaid wood, there was a mass exodus of people heading for the couches and reaching for glasses of campenois held at the ready by a legion of silver-and-white-clad servants.

Chloe tried not to gulp hers down too fast, wishing it was water rather than wine and that Andalyssians had the same fashion for fans as Illvyans. The room wasn't as hot as a ballroom in Lumia or even the palace in Kingswell, thank the goddess, but it was warm enough after dancing like a woman possessed for an hour. Her feet, in their new slippers, were already protesting. She was out of practice. Well, there would plenty of hot water to soak them in back in her room, and she knew which herbs she could add to ease the inevitable aches and pains. Maybe she should ask Irina for a tour of the stillroom to make sure there would be more available in the palace if she needed them. The supply she had brought with her might not last the month if all the dancing was going to as vigorous.

She looked around for Gilles as she sipped campenois. She'd changed partners so many times that she hadn't finished the dancing even in the same set as him. Thankfully, she hadn't yet had to dance with Lucien.

Before she spotted any of the Illvyans, Irina broke through the crowd, bearing her own glass. She grinned when she saw Chloe. "Tired already, Lady de Montesse?"

"Just resting a minute," Chloe said. "Those dances require some stamina."

"A good way of keeping warm on a cold winter night," Irina said, flashing a dimple.

Chloe could think of better ways. Mostly involving many layers of quilts and a good book in bed. Perhaps a companion, though that wasn't a subject to discuss with Irina, no matter how much her comment may have been a leading one. "Our nights aren't quite so cold in Illvya."

"The nights aren't so cold in most places," Irina agreed. "We're as cold as it gets. Well, other than the ice reaches, but nobody is dancing there, I think." She finished her wine and handed the glass to the nearest servant. "But I came to fetch you. Katiya has a favor to ask, my lady."

"Of course, Lady Irina," Chloe said, returning the formality. "I am happy to be of assistance to your sister."

Irina rolled her eyes. "I'm being polite. I was given strict instructions that you are Lady de Montesse at the evening celebrations, not Lieutenant de Montesse. Almost as though you are two people."

"Not two people, but two different roles, rather," Chloe said. "Lieutenant is the diplomat. Lady is the wedding guest. Well, as near as I can figure it. But they're both me, and I'd prefer that you called me Chloe."

"Let's wait until everyone has had a few more rounds of wine," Irina said. "Then all the eagle-eyed old biddies who are sticklers for protocol won't be watching me so closely. It's very dull, this business of being related to the near-queen. Bad enough growing up in one of the sixteen houses, but the royal family adds new layers of ridiculousness to the whole business."

"That has been my experience," Chloe agreed. "But you'll get used to it. And after the wedding, the fuss will die down. You'll be continuing your studies, won't you?"

"Yes," Irina said, not sounding enthusiastic. "For a while, at least."

Chloe was going to ask her what she meant, but they'd reached the royal party. Katiya stepped forward to take her hands and kiss her cheeks as Irina vanished back into the crowd.

Chloe managed a hasty curtsy in the king's direction when Katiya let her go.

"Good evening, Lady Katiya. That is a beautiful gown you're wearing."

Indeed, Katiya was glowing in a shade of pink light enough to echo the gleam of a pearl. Chloe didn't think she'd seen that precise shade before. It would be popular in Anglion, where the nobles were pearl-obsessed, believing, wrongly, that pearls repelled the sanctii they feared so much. They were learning differently now that they were ruled by a queen bonded to a sanctii, but she doubted they'd be giving up their jewels any time soon.

Andalyssians favored harder gems. Katiya was dripping in diamonds, the centerpiece of the collar she wore being a large stone nearly the same shade as her dress. Diamond clusters decorated her hair as well, set in delicate flower shapes placed to suggest a circlet...or perhaps a crown.

"Thank you. Yours is lovely also," Katiya said. "Perhaps after the wedding we will have a chance to discuss Illvyan fashion some more."

"I would be happy to, my lady," Chloe said. "Irina said you wanted to ask a favor?"

Katiya smiled. "I do. Speaking of Illvya, as it were, Mikvel and I thought it might be fun if you would teach us one of the Illvyan pair dances. What do you call them again?"

"A waltz?" Chloe half squeaked. Katiya wanted to waltz? The Andalyssian dances, fast as they were, did a good job of making sure the dance partners were rarely very close for long. And hands tended to clasp hands or shoulders or elbows, not waists as a waltz required. If Irina had been worried about using Chloe’s name, what would her eagle-eyed biddies have to say about their king and his fiancée waltzing?

"That's it," Katiya said. "Will you?" She nodded at someone over Chloe's shoulder. "Lord Castaigne is right there. He seems to be a good dancer."

Chapter 18

Damn. Maybe Katiya wasn’t out to cause a scandal but rather matchmaking. This was Andalyssia. In Andalyssia, women married. Chloe, as a widow, was an oddity. Irina’s teasing about Lucien was just that, as far as Chloe could tell. But Katiya...well, she was more traditional, maybe. Or perhaps suffering from that peculiar state of being in love herself and therefore wanting everyone else to share her happiness. Whatever the reason, Chloe didn’t want to add fuel to the fire by acting rattled by the idea of dancing with Lucien. "He's never trodden on my toes," she admitted. "Not that we've danced often." Not precisely true, unless she only counted her time in exile.

"He managed well in the sets," Katiya said. "As did you and the captain. It seems only fair that, after we've forced you to learn our dances, we let you try something more familiar." Her smile widened. "And here is Lord Castaigne now. Thank you, 'Rina," she said to her sister, who had joined them again.

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