Chapter 19

It's much quieter now, and any of the staff that have to be up earlier than the rest have already made their way back to their rooms. Most now mill around or sit, gorged with good food and lively company. The music still plays, but slowly now, and only some dance—barely moving their feet and mostly swaying. 

Between all of us, we managed to get me over to a chair near the dessert table. Though I don't have much room after eating what Adah gave me, the pastries are so good my eyes water. 

The candles have burned low, casting a golden glow over everything. Laughter floats around the room, now soft and slurred with sleepiness. The strings play a gentle melody, smooth and classic. I can hear the clink of glasses as they are taken away, and the joy of the evening lingers in the air like perfume. 

Aleksi catches my eye, only a few steps away, talking with some of the other staff. We look at each other for a moment, smiling softly. 

But I feel another set of eyes on me and look to see Lady Anna eying Aleksi and I. Oh no. I can see the mischievous glint in her soft brown eyes. 

I have the sudden urge to make some sort of excuse or call out to her to prevent what I know is about to happen, but I am too late. She has already grabbed his arm and dragged him over. 

"Look, Laura, the dances are slow, so it should be okay—and after all you've barely danced tonight." Turning to Aleksi she asks, "You can keep her steady, can't you?" 

He nods, slightly flustered. 

It takes everything in me not to dive under the dessert table and hide. Her intentions are so obvious it's almost sweet—if I weren't the one being humiliated. Luckily, Aleksi doesn't seem to notice. He just smiles indulgently at Lady Anna before turning to me. 

"Don't worry, I've got you," he says gently, as he practically lifts me from my chair. Lady Anna scurries off like a guilty child before I can glare at her for this set up. 

I try to seem as though I'm favoring my ankle, lest anyone else ask me to dance. We make our way out to the middle of the floor and begin to sway slightly to the gentle music. 

"Have you had a pleasant night?" I ask, to break the ice. 

"Yes," he pauses, searching my face, "only I worry you haven't." 

I laugh softly, casting my eyes down. I try to joke off the heaviness of his gaze. 

"Since when do you worry about me, Krasivak?" 

I expect him to scoff or tease me, so I'm surprised when his tone remains serious. 

"Since always," he says, and my heart flutters so violently I'm sure he must feel it through my hands.

 I want to believe him, I really do. But there's a cynical little voice in my head that reminds me—he wasn't exactly gentlemanly when we first met. I raise a sceptical eyebrow.

 He looks away sheepishly.

"Okay, maybe not always." 

I scoff and hum in agreement as he scrambles to cover. 

"But even in the beginning, I wouldn't have wanted you to hurt yourself." 

Now that I believe easier, and I tell him so. 

There's a beat and then he says, "At the very least since the time with the sparrow." 

I think for a second, but nothing comes to mind. He sees my confusion, my lack of recognition, and laughs lightly. 

"Of course you don't remember." 

"I—I'm sorry—" 

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that, I just…" 

He laughs lightly, with a slight air of embarrassment. 

"It was a cold day, but one of the kitchen maids had burned a soup or something, so the window was open. I saw you standing by it and… I got curious." A blush stains his cheeks as he continues. "You were feeding a bird—a sparrow, I think—the last pieces of your cheese bread." 

I blink at him, shocked he remembered something so benign. He seems hesitant to go on. 

"So what, it was my bird-feeding that finally changed your mind about me?" I say, trying to lighten the mood. 

"No." He seems to decide something and then meets my eyes. "It was because cheese bread is your favourite, and Mamka almost never makes it. But you gave it to the bird anyway." 

I wrack my memory for the moment he's talking about, but all I can summon is the feeling of cold fingers and the ache of a long morning. Did I even think twice about giving the bird my food? I doubt it. It must've flown off the moment it ate—like most things do. 

But he remembered. That moment stayed with him. And now, somehow, it stays with me. 

I don't even know what to address first. And maybe it's silly, but my brain catches on the cheese bread. It is my favourite, but I've never told anyone that.

I just look at him, his grey eyes completely open. My heart flutters, breathing shallow. He seems to pull me even closer, the air between us pulled tight. 

No one—not even the people I considered closest to me—have ever noticed like this. Ever cared like this. 

A loud clatter from our left, caused by a tipsy maid knocking over an empty food stand, snaps us back to reality. I realize how close we are and distance myself slightly, if only to get some air to think straight.

 I shouldn't be here, with him, like this. But I can't make myself pull away. 

We are silent for a while, and I can feel the familiar tension build in the air—feeding on things said and not said. We are chest to chest now. He leans down towards me and my head is tilted up towards him, my eyes just being able to see over his shoulder.

I feel his breath, warm against my ear, and for the first time I notice the way he smells. 

His shirt of course smells of the house soap, but also with other things—the smokey smell of the fire and something else I can't quite name. 

I know in many years, when he has forgotten me, I will smell this again, on a random day, in a random place, just for a second—and I will remember the dance I shared with the gentle footman. 

I will recall the way the lights flickered across his face, the feeling of my one stockinged foot on the cool floor. I will remember the faint rustle of skirts, whispering against the floor. 

But mostly, I will remember him. 

He feels sturdy under my hands—warm and strong. His hand, which rests on my waist, seems to send those same sparks through me, as does where our hands are met. 

The time slows, and it is once again just us in the world. In this grand house, in this grand hall. With these grand people. 

Just for a while.