Page 98 of Carousel

“Do not worry yourself about that.”

“The conversion hasn’t worked yet, then? You’re still loyal to Rhavna?”

“Always will be,” he says, leaning in close. “And that’s why I need you to keep being my friend. And trusting me.”

His fingers are entwining mine.

I realise there’s something between them. He’s handing me a folded note.

As subtly as I can, I shift it from his fingers into mine. As if brushing my hair out of my face, I tuck it inside the neckline of my dress.

He covers the movement by spinning me out, then drawing me back in quickly. It’s done so smoothly, so neatly, it makes me gasp. His hand lands carefully on my waist again, and we are connected once more.

And this time, I feel the familiar rush of sparks between our palms. Like our bodies are emitting flares of warmth.

“You… dance well,” I say, a little breathless.

“You sound surprised.”

The room and people around us are a blur. The heat his body is radiating into me, and mine is radiating into his, is all encompassing.

“Can you feel that?” I whisper, knowing he’ll know what I mean.

“It would be hard not to.”

“It’s so strange,” I say.

“Is it?” he asks softly, slowing our step, as the dance demands at this point.

“I wish you’d answer me in proper sentences.”

He smiles. “I am.”

I frown. “You’re infuriating.”

He smirks. “Am I?”

Now looking over his shoulder, I realise that, at some point, we became the only couple left on the floor. Even those that had been dancing are watching us.

Why? What are they seeing in us?

“Where did you say you’re from?” I say, into his ear.

“I told you. West.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t.”

“You can dance,” I press. “You can speak Hevallan fluently. You have a rare talent⁠—”

“Enough,” he warns. “Other Rhavnans might hear. Or Dezeeves.”

I ignore him. Press further. “Are you a cousin of the Queen’s, or a nephew? I still think you look familiar. Did we meet as children?”

He spins me out again, fast. I’m more light-headed than ever, barely keeping my footing. But he keeps me stable and continues to lead me across the floor in this dance that I’ve only seen performed, to this complexity, by nobles. Including the Queen herself.

He says, at the shell of my ear, body pressed against mine, “I have never lived in, or even visited, the Palace. And – if I can trust my memory, and I believe, on this at least, I can – we have never met.” He pauses. “Whether we know each other is a different question.”