The Dance

"Dance with me." I command.

Having learned his lesson, Father places a hand at my waist and leads me into a slow-moving Naxosian dance without question. We turn along the outskirts of the dance floor, but I order him to lead us closer to the center.

To our left, two gentlemen dance together. The taller one twirls the shorter one in perfect form. To our right, a man and woman scoot indecently close to each other, and I silently cheer them on. The rebel in me loves to throw dirt in the face of decorum.

After a minute passes, I spot a few men looking over the heads of their dance partners to catch a glimpse of me. My black attire is doing its job splendidly.

But mostly, I think it's the fact that my pant-clad legs are a rarity in the room. Most men aren't used to the style. And I've opted for tight-fitted ones that show my curves to their best effect.

"People are staring," Death observes impatiently.

"That's the point, isn't it?"

I imagine what the scene must look like from up on the dais—the black center of a daisy amid sage petals.

More and more girls exit the ballroom after obtaining their introductions. I hope the line ends soon. There can't be that many girls of noble blood.

A sudden spark of heat lands on my neck and spreads down to my toes. I'm being watched. "Tell me, Death, have we attracted the notice of the king yet?"

Death glimpses the throne out of the corner of his eye.

They widen. "I believe we have."

"Excellent. Keep dancing."

"But—"

"Death," I warn.

I let myself get lost in the steps. I do so love dancing. I love the way my body becomes light and fluid when I go through the motions, the way the spins send my hair over my shoulders, the way my skirt twirls around my legs.

When the song is nearly over, I ask, "How many women are left in line?"

"Ten."

The song ends, and the orchestra strikes up another.

"Should we—?" Death starts.

"I'm parched. Let's go to the tables for some refreshment."

"But—"

At my glare, he takes my arm once more and leads me up to a table laden with red-filled glasses and tiny samples of food on trays.

I select a glass, holding it in my fingers by the long stem, and bring it to my lips.

"Your Majesty?," a bright voice says from the other side of the thin table.

I look up. Before us is a golden-haired noble older than I.

Perhaps thirty. He still appears young in the face, but he's much broader in the shoulders than the men I'm used to entertaining.

"Lord Harris!" Father greets, forgetting me for a moment.

"Where have you been? We haven't seen you in weeks at the club."

I haven't the faintest idea what club he's referencing, but I suppose I should have known Death wasn't spending his evenings at a mistress's. My mother doesn't like it.

Father stretches out a hand to shake Harris, and I note that the younger gentleman has quite the calluses on his right hand. How unusual for a lord. But as I take note of the distinct muscles visible through his dress pants, I'd deem him an accomplished horseman.

"Alas, my estates have needed my full attention this long while. I've needed to…"

Already bored with the conversation, I don't bother listening in. Instead, I turn around to survey those dancing.

One gentleman steps on his partner's foot during a turn because he has his eyes on my legs.

"Ow," she protests.

I smile down into my glass, taking another sip, careful not to look anywhere near the throne. I swear I can still feel a ray of heat bearing down on me from that direction.

"Forgive my rudeness!" Death suddenly exclaims more loudly. "Reos, this is my daughter Loralie. Now that Jessica is betrothed, I'm permitting her an outing at the ."

I stifle a groan before turning. I suppose it only helps my cause to be seen interacting with other guests and not showing any interest in the king. But I'm also certain I will find any friend of my father's to be intolerable.

I grasp my overskirt in my free hand and curtsy. "A pleasure."

Harris eyes sparkle before he dips into a bow. "She's as beautiful as the elder. Is her temperament just as sweet?"

Before Death has to scramble for an answer to that question, harris adds, "I'm still put out that you did not give Jessica to me. My money is just as good as any other child of the sin's!"

"I'm sure you understand that I had to give her the best title offered. I couldn't get her a rebel kingdom As much as I appreciate our friendship, my dearest Jessica"

I close my eyes tightly. Jessica is the last thing I want everyone to be discussing. This night is about me.

"another dance is starting." I set my empty glass on the table and tug at his arm.

Remembering the purpose for this excursion, Death excuses us and pulls me in line with the other dancers. I try to hide my ire. Even at a party where Jessica is absent and Death is bent on helping me catch the eye of the king, he can't help but speak of his favorite. The daughter who is a pure descendant.

"The line is gone," Death says as we perform the first steps, his focus now returning to the king.

"Just keep dancing. Do not look at the king any longer."

"But he's watching us."

"Ignore him."

In my periphery, I see the king shift in his seat, as though he caught himself in one position for too long because he was occupied.

Occupied with me.

My anger drifts away at the thought. This song is faster, requiring more dexterity and concentration. As Death's face blurs in front of me, I'm able to forget all about the king.

There is nothing but the tempo pounding in time to my heartbeat and the feel of my feet sweeping across the floor. Before the song can come to a close, the music cuts off abruptly. The couples around us scatter, and Death brings our dance to a halt.

The king is approaching, his shadows sweeping behind him as he moves. I try to quiet my breathing from the exerting dance as Death takes my arm in his and turns to greet our

sovereign.

"Your Majesty," Death says, bowing.

I curtsy along with him.

"Your Majesty Death," the king says with a nod. "I don't believe I'm acquainted with your dance partner."

I keep my eyes just to the right of the king. Though I don't see it, I can feel the king's eyes taking me in from head to toe.

He's been watching me for the last fifteen minutes at least, but now he takes his time with his close-up view.

"Forgive me, sire," Father says. "May I introduce my step child, Loralie Esther Kensington, child of Fate and Time."

The king tilts his head at an angle. "You did not get in line with the other ladies, Lady Kensington. Is the dance floor more interesting than I am?" His voice is a deep baritone; not quite soothing, but powerful.

I fight a smile as I allow our eyes to meet for the first time.

A delicious jolt shoots through my entire body at the connection.

His eyes are the green of the sea, of crashing waves and violent winds. There's something dangerous in the depths of them, something exciting, and I realize right then that feigning disinterest will be difficult.

When I finally manage to pull my gaze away, I let it travel downward, taking in the king slowly while he watches.

Assessing him properly from the tips of his black hair to the base of his shined boots.

"Yes," I conclude.

The air leaves my father in a painful-sounding squeak.

But the Shadow King lets out one low laugh.

"I saw ladies leaving the ball in tears," I continue. "It seemed speaking with Your Majesty was a sure way to get kicked out. I wasn't about to let that happen before I joined in the dancing."

"Is it the dancing you like? Or are you merely looking to show off your"—he darts a quick look down to my legs —"dress?"

"Are you mocking my outfit? I designed it myself."

"Quite the opposite. I rather like it." A pinch of humor lurks at the edges of his lips. I think it might be at my expense, and I don't like that one bit.

I say, "Give me your measurements, and I can have one made for you."

Another grin stretches across the king's lips, and I can't help but admire how much more handsome he becomes with the movement.

"Dance with me," he says.

Death goes so still, one would think he'd been turned to stone.

"Is that an order or a request? I'm told you hang girls who get too close to you."

"Not hang. I am not as cruel as the king himself," he steals a glance at Death, who just smiles a light smile, "Those girls are asked to leave the party. So long as you mind your distance, I will not have you dismissed as well."

Still, I'm not ready to concede just yet. "Is there any fun in a dance when you can't touch your partner?"

"Accept my invitation and you will find out."