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Without thinking, Dagmara took off in the direction of the sound. Turning down a corridor, she found herself at the open doors to the ballroom. She and Martine stood at the threshold, peering inside.
The glossy floor was reflective of the dome ceiling, made entirely of glass. The stars were so bright, reminding Dagmara of the ceiling in the library.
Under one of the alcoves was a single violinist. His music was propped on a stand, and directly beside him was Sacha. The large man leaned against a column, his arms crossed. His expression was one of boredom, but that was how Dagmara was used to seeing the giant. On the ground beside him were Pierre’s bow and swords.
In the center of the room, Claude and Pierre struggled to do a three-step turn. Pierre was on his tiptoes, clearly taking the female role in the dance.
Claude cursed loudly. That would be the next Ilusaurian word Dagmara learned.
“Stop!”
The violinist screeched to a halt.
“It’s one, two, three!” Claude said, exasperated. Dagmara loved when he spoke in his native language.
“I thought it was one, two, three,” Pierre replied, doing a jig on the ground that didn’t look like the Azuremi Waltz at all. “Right?” He looked at Sacha.
Sacha uncrossed his arms, revealing a piece of paper. He was silent as he scanned it over, then he looked up and gave a shrug.
“You two are helpless,” Claude said under his breath.
“I can help,” Dagmara said from the doorway, announcing her presence.
The men jolted upright, Claude and Pierre taking a giant step away from one another. “I didn’t see you…” Claude started, switching to Azuremi. “How long have you been watching?”
“Long enough,” said Dagmara. “Pierre, why don’t you dance with Martine, and I can steal the king from you?”
“Oh no,” Martine said, “I’m a guard. I don’t dance.”
“I don’t dance either,” said Pierre.
“Yes,” Martine nodded, her cheeks reddening, “that much is obvious.”
A pout formed on Pierre’s face.
“Come on.” Dagmara grabbed Martine’s hand and yanked her into the ballroom before she could object. They immediately moved into the two pairs. Despite Martine’s objections, she eagerly put her arms around Pierre’s neck to prepare for the dance. Pierre held her around the waist, keeping his distance as though they were teenagers dancing for the first time.
“No, no,” Dagmara said, “like this.”
She used Claude’s hands to demonstrate, bringing one to her upper back so that she could rest her arm against his, and then taking his other hand in hers. Her breath caught in her throat as she met Claude’s gaze. His proximity made her heart race. She hadn’t been this close to him since she had kissed him. She saw his eyes flick to her lips, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.
Trying to forget the kiss in the forest, she proceeded to teach the choreography. Despite stepping on a few toes and slamming into Claude’s chest every once in a while, Dagmara had the time of her life. By the end, her cheeks hurt from smiling so long. Her body was yelling at her, causing pain to ripple through every joint and she felt lightheaded, but she felt secure in Claude’s arms. If she was going to feel miserable, she would rather experience bliss dancing the night away than sitting by herself.
When the violinist decided to join in, it was well into the night, and exhaustion wore down on Dagmara, her eyelids feeling heavy.
“You’re a much better partner than Pierre,” Claude whispered.
Dagmara glanced over Claude’s shoulder, watching the two guards fumbling on a completely different tempo. Yet they didn’t seem to care, their bodies moving at the same imperfect timing.
Dagmara smiled. “You’re a much better partner than Pierre too.”
Claude let out a laugh. “I told you I could dance. You didn’t believe me.”
“Next time…” Dagmara tried to hide her yawn, “I’ll take your word for it.”
Claude released her hand, bringing his palm up to cup her cheek. “I’m glad you challenged me. Otherwise, we probably wouldn’t be here. And that would be a tragedy.”
“Oh yes, because the Azuremi Waltz is certainly important for the betterment of our kingdoms.”
