~Florence

  “Ladies, ladies!” Dancing instructor Madam Kurua shouts, startling me.

  I stop with a skid and get in line. My cheeks are flushed, just like everyone else’s.

  “Some of you will be old enough to attend the winter masquerade at the end of the year, and this is what you want to show your partners?” She tsk’d. “Shameful! Luckily for you, we have some volunteers…”

  As soon as she uttered the word “volunteers,” the girls started whispering in excitement. I look around, puzzled.

  “...to help you practice today. Now, there are a few rules you must follow before I introduce your partners for today. One, you must maintain decorum at all times! Two, there shall be absolutely no flirting—this is a practice session, not a social event. May I also remind you that most of you have not yet debuted. And three, no switching partners. Along with that, no complaining about your partners. Not only would that be terribly rude, but it would reflect poorly on you. You all know better.

  “Now, line up oldest to youngest, and we’ll get started!”

  I grumble internally. I’m always the oldest. Always. Sometimes that’s a good thing, sometimes it’s bad…today it is bad. I'm the student with the least dancing experience, and now I won’t have an example to follow.

  “Ladies, I’d like to introduce you to the Academy Knights!”

  The rest of my classmates cannot contain their squeals and chitters of excitement as the knights file into the practice ballroom. They do look rather nice in their uniforms—neat, trim, and professional.

  Somehow, I’m reminded of Sir Thorne, though I've never seen him in such decorated attire.

  Suddenly, a knight is standing in front of me, bowing. When he lifts his head, I immediately recognize his particular shade of blond hair and blue eyes. I swallow a gasp, and breathe, “Your High—”

  ?????

  ~Andrelandros

  He saw the moment she recognized him—her turquoise eyes widened, her delicate brow arched, and her pink mouth opened in shock.

  “Your High—” she started to say, but Landros stopped her with a gloved finger to her lips. Just as quickly as he had placed it there, he removed it. Her cheeks reddened.

  “You may call me Sir Landros, my lady,” he told her, enjoying how he flustered her.

  Landros grabbed her hand, hanging limp at her side, and brought it to his lips for a polite kiss. Instantly, she withdrew it.

  Oh? He looked into her eyes to see a steeliness that hadn’t been there a few moments ago. She recovered quickly, he mused.

  “Lady Florence LaVelle,” she replied. “At your service.”

  She dipped her head and curtsied, a little too deeply for a Royal Knight, but nobody seemed to notice.

  This was thrilling, he thought, feeling a surge of adrenaline in the last place he'd ever expect to: a ballroom. What would happen if the Madam found out he was the second Prince? Part of him wanted to find out...

  “Are you an Academy Knight, Your—Sir Landros?” Lady Florence asked him, looking squarely at his chest. He was about a head taller than her, but most ladies were keen to stare at his face, not his coat.

  “Yes, though I graduated a few years ago.” He bent down to whisper in her ear, “I still have some friends here, so I asked them to sneak me in…on pain of death.”

  Landros grinned down at her. Surely, she’d realize he was jesting? Then again, his brother often told him his smile was terrifying.

  The flush on Lady Florence’s cheeks deepened further, and if Landros could see his own eyes, he’d see them sparkle with the wicked mirth he felt.

  “Assume your positions on the dance floor!” the Madam called out.

  “Shall we, my lady?” Landros said, holding out his gloved hands. If Lady Florence grimaced ever so slightly when placing her hand in his, Landros didn’t notice. He was more preoccupied by how small her hand felt, how slight her waist seemed. It wasn’t as if she were abnormally small—ladies were always trying to make themselves slimmer here and rounder there, altering their bodies into what they thought would attract him. As if their bodies were the only thing he cared about.

  No, what bothered him was the feeling that if he did not hold onto her tightly, she might simply dissolve in his hands. Float away on the wind. Fade away into nothing.

  What an odd feeling…he thought, tightening his grip as much as he dared. He didn’t want to hurt her, either.

  “I apologize if I step on your feet, Your—Sir Landros,” she said, jolting him out of his strange thoughts. She was staring into his chest again. His eyes roamed her face, but he could only see her eyelashes, dark and feathery, when she wasn’t looking up at him. “I am rather new to dancing. Any of the other ladies here would have made a much better partner for you than me.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “My eyes are up here, Lady Florence,” he told her.

  Obediently, yet somehow with an edge of defiance, Lady Florence raised her gaze to look him in the eye. “I apologize, Sir Landros,” she said. “I was trying to concent—oof! Sorry.”

  She had stepped on his foot. It hadn't been the first time, actually, just the first time she'd realized it.

  “You’ll have to stomp harder than that to hurt me, my lady,” he told her, twirling Lady Florence out of his grasp, then bringing her back in.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied after a few moments.

  Landros decided to let her concentrate for a bit, enjoying how her brow furrowed and her lips ever so slightly counted one—two—three. She probably thought he wouldn’t notice, which he found endearing.

  But, he’d come here for a few reasons, and one of them had still gone unanswered.

  “Your hair, my lady,” he began. Lady Florence’s eyes snapped up to meet his. “It’s rather fascinating. How did it come to be this way?”

  Lady Florence bit her lip. Oh? Did she intend to keep silent?

  He bent down to whisper, “Are you going to ignore your Prince’s question?”

  She jerked her head back, “No! No, I’ll tell you. I was just…wondering how much you already knew. About me.”

  “Ah. Not much, I’m afraid. That’s why I’m here, Lady Florence.”

  The first song came to an end. Lady Florence withdrew herself from his grasp and turned away from him, then touched her cheeks with her hands.

  What could she be doing?

  His question was answered when she returned a moment later for the next song and placed her icy hand in his.

  “Ice magic?” he commented, raising a brow.

  “I was a bit warm,” she replied with a shrug. “Anyway, to answer your question, my hair is the result of a dragon’s blessing.”

  Despite the music starting up, Prince Andrelandros stilled. Lady Florence had to stop as well, since she was in his arms, but thankfully, he caught himself and they began their dance right on time. A slower dance this round.

  The dragon. The oracle. The dragon-speaker and her...hair?

  He was such a practiced dancer that he could lead without thinking about it, which allowed him to think about the things he and his brother had discussed, both recently and long ago.

  Whenever he’d asked his father if the dragons were truly gone, his father had always said, “Yes.” Landros had accepted it as truth since he was a child—why would his father lie?

  “Lady Florence,” he began, measuring his words carefully, “all the dragons have been dead for hundreds of years. How do you expect me to believe one gave you a blessing, and such a useless one at that?”

  She flinched, nearly stumbling. He caught her, immediately regretting his words, and he rarely regretted anything. Should he apologize? But…her claim was outrageous. Impossible. And colored hair, of all things?

  “She is dead, Your Highness,” Lady Florence whispered. When he looked down to meet her gaze, he was shocked to see tears pooling in her eyes. “Her shade…it was these colors.”

  Lady Florence pulled her hand out of his and lovingly caressed her braided hairstyle before returning her hand to his.

  “I—” he began.

  As if she didn’t hear him, Lady Florence continued.

  “I was in the hellscape for seven years. Aurora was my only source of comfort…and she could not visit me often. Yet I grew so fond of her. Right before the clerics pulled me out, she kissed my brow. She was made of…clouds.”

  Despite the smile on Lady Florence’s face, a few tears escaped.

  “Oh,” she said, surprised, bringing her hand to her face.

  “Here,” Landros replied, handing her his handkerchief, but only after blotting her face with it awkwardly. “Take it—the Madam is approaching.”

  Lady Florence shoved it into her glove, and they resumed their dance…silently. Landros replayed the previous few minutes in his mind over and over, mentally chastizing himself for his choice of words. A prince should know better, he should do better. Lance often reminded him to be tactful, and for good reason. Despite Landros' intentions, his words could, and often did, wound others. He had wounded Lady Florence with his choice of words, calling her blessing useless, but he hadn't meant it wasn't beautiful.

  He couldn't help but imagine what the dragon made of sunset colors would look like—stunning, just like Lady Florence.

  Only when the song was nearing its end did Lady Florence speak once more. “Why are you here, Sir Landros?”

  “Why else? I was curious about you.”

  “But I am hardly worth your attention. Haven’t you heard the rumors?”

  Something like anger, but not, flared within him. Indignation? Offense? His playful mood from earlier was long gone because he couldn’t even tell if the feelings were his own or on Lady Florence’s behalf.

  “You dare assume what is and is not worthy of my attention?” he asked.

  “Of course not, S-sir Landros,” she said, looking into his chest, her voice higher and breathier than it had been. “I’m just…surprised, is all.”

  “I suppose…that’s fair,” he conceded, his face relaxing. “If I don’t go out of my way to avoid social events, I oftentimes end up with lady after lady in my face, demanding my attention.” He sighed. “It’s not all their fault—their mothers usually put them up to it. But it’s so very tiresome. I’ve found it’s usually the ones who try to hide away from me that are the most interesting.”

  Lady Florence lifted her head and looked into Landros’ eyes, as if trying to find an answer there.

  “If you persist in believing you are not worth my time, I may take that as a challenge to pursue you,” he said. He spoke quietly—Lady Florence’s cheeks grew warm once again. “So, might I suggest looking in the mirror and realizing how captivating you truly are, my lady? Rumors be damned.”

  With that, Prince Andrelandros pulled her hand into his and kissed it, his lips lingering on her fingertips for only a moment.

  It was only then that the two of them seemed to realize the music had stopped—that everything had stopped—and the class was over.

  Prince Andrelandros bowed, and Lady Florence curtsied deeply in return, lowering her face to hide it from him.

  “Until next time, Lady Florence,” he said.

  Because there definitely would be a next time.

  As the kids say, Landros has rizz!! ?? But my child says he has more rizz than Landros, and is a sigma chad...whatever that means.

  ??

  Lots of Love,

  xoxo??kb