Page 49

"Today we are doing footwork, so you will be wearing these and full dining attire," he announced, holding up a pair of evening slippers with a low heel and extracting a corset, stockings, and a lavender dress that shimmered against the light.

I couldn't help but scoff. "You're serious?"

He grinned mischievously, placing the items on my bed. "Remember, you are a lady. Not some trained assassin rolling in mud. It would be nice to see you in something other than your training attire," he remarked with a hint of playfulness in his tone. "I'll get Elise to help you." He started for the door, readying to close it, before I called out to him.

He paused, his intense gaze fixed on me, and I felt the words choke in my throat. He flashed me a knowing smile before quietly shutting the door behind him. I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and collapsed onto my bed.

Our dynamic had taken a strange turn. In our private moments or when we danced, the world around us faded away, leaving just the two of us. Yet, as soon as reality intruded, those feelings evaporated, and we resumed our cautious dance, skirting the edge of a deeper connection.

It bothered me that he kept secrets and only stayed in the shallows. So, I stopped asking, not wanting the tension to return between us.

A soft knock interrupted the silence, and Elise entered with a warm smile. Her hair was partially pulled back, revealing glimpses of the long scar running down her face, a reminder of her past struggles. I couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for her pain.

Sensing my eyes on her scar, she reassured me with a hint of irritation, "Don't fret about me, Eliah. I'm quite capable, you know."

"I'm sorry, I—"

"No need to apologize," Elise interrupted gently, her hand squeezing my shoulders reassuringly. "Truly. I've come to terms with the fact that this is who I am."

I returned her smile, genuinely pleased for her yet feeling a twinge of envy. "What happened? If that's alright with me asking."

She began lacing the corset, pulling tight enough to deflate my lungs. "I was raised in an impoverished home. My parents struggled to keep us alive, and my mother…" she paused, her voice heavy with sadness. "She did what she had to in order to put food on the table. My father passed away before I really got to know him."

With each word, her hands moved precisely, expertly lacing up the corset. "I was ten years old then and was out with my brothers, desperate to find something to eat—anything to keep hunger at bay. I thought I was fast enough, so I stole food from a cart." Her voice wavered as she recalled the painful memory. "I only remember hearing the crack of a whip and then searing pain as my eye swelled shut. My brother managed to get me home, but we couldn't afford a healer. So it scarred, creating a remembrance to always be honest."

She smiled timidly as she finished helping me into my dress. "Elise, I am so sorry you had to go through that. I…" My mind raced through the endless grief I had given myself for my own parents leaving. Yet I was fed, cared for, and given a bed to sleep in. My heart ached with guilt for my selfishness.

"Please, don't pity me. I am changed because of it. I've heard of your life, Eliah, and I am grateful for the life I've lived instead of what you have gone through."

Her words touched a part of me that I tried to keep disconnected from myself—something I didn't want to face yet. So I nodded and embraced her, hoping I might be as strong as her one day.

We strolled arm in arm into the ballroom, its opulence reminiscent of the dining area. Crystal chandeliers cast starry reflections against the dark walls and gleaming wood floors. Levon sat on a bench by the unlit fireplace, engrossed in a book, looking regal in his dark attire, and smiled, hearing the click of our shoes on the polished floors.

Aveal, the footman Elise had once blushed over, stood nearby with a few others. His face lit up as Elise entered, and she returned the smile with newfound confidence. She squeezed my hand before confidently striding toward him. I couldn't help but wonder what had shifted to bolster her self-assurance.

"You look lovely," Levon complimented, bowing and taking my hand. I glanced around to see several other lady's maids and footmen conversing, wondering why they were there too. Levon must have caught my apprehension. "Don't worry. No one will be watching you; they are too enthralled with their partners."

"You should have told me thateveryonewas waiting for me," I mumbled, hoping they hadn't been waiting too long. Levon only laughed and led me to the center as others followed suit. Delicate tones and beats from the pianoforte began to play, sending a rhythm of music echoing throughout the room.

"Breathe. You show your fear as much as you do your anger," Levon said, pulling me into him. "Just follow suit as if we were dancing at the Spring Harvest."

"That was different. I didn't have the king's eyes on me."

"But you'll have mine," he smiled.

My toes curled as his fingers intertwined with mine, and we swayed to the sound. Others followed, parting and swirling as if this dance was taught in childhood. I stumbled a few times on my feet, not remembering when I had worn heels. I counted the beats in my head, trying to remember the next move and parting to the twirl and partner exchange.

"Just let the music take you," Levon whispered against my ear as we nestled back close from a twirl. "Let go of the worry of making mistakes and simply be." His hand tightened around my waist, pulling me closer and sending a wave of brimming flames up my back.

He let go, taking hold of one of the lady's maids beside him, as I did with a footman. Levon's eyes never left mine as we parted and rejoined.

"Good," he said, taking my waist and hand. "Much better."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes before I tripped over his foot, forgetting the pattern. He caught me and flashed a wicked grin.

"Perhaps I spoke too soon," he teased as the music stopped and applause filled the room.

We danced several more rounds to different tunes, each seeming so effortless for everyone else. I didn't enjoy the feeling of appearing incapable in front of most of his staff, and I noted to tell him not to do that again.