Lost Melody

A Ballroom Smile

'And Kiara can't go because...'

"She's attending a ball with me this evening," said Comte, sitting rather leisurely on his chair. No matter how much Camellia tried, she couldn't do the same.

She put my teacup down. 'You know this won't end well, right?'

He shrugged. "Should you get in trouble, Mozart will help you out."

'Are you sure he won't land me in trouble?' Camellia asked skeptically.

"I'm not that much of a jerk." Mozart had entered the room while they were conversing, and he was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest. "If you don't want to go, no one's forcing you. I'd prefer it if you weren't there too."

"Mozart." Comte's voice held a hint of warning. "It would be unsightly of you to attend alone."

Mozart held Comte's gaze. "Does it look like I care?"

'Not really,' Camellia volunteered helpfully. 'I'll go,' she said, addressing Comte.

"Wonderful. You'll find something waiting for you in your room, I believe." He said it as though he'd known what her response was going be and had already prepared for it.

Camellia tilted her head in understanding, and Mozart's face shifted to one of confusion, albeit briefly. They headed out together, and Mozart had unconsciously dropped Camellia off at her room. "Meet me down at the doors in an hour."

He didn't wait for her response as he took off.

Camellia walked into her room, and wanted to let out a low whistle. A beautiful violet dress adorned her room, camellias woven into the fabric. She donned it, and then looked at herself in the mirror. The color seemed to bring into mind a pair of violet eyes. She looked presentable, but something was missing. And then it struck-she hadn't done her hair yet. Setting a low bow on her hair, she walked out of the room, feeling a sort of confidence that she hadn't felt in a very long while.

When she reached the front door, Mozart was pulling at the cuffs on his sleeves, as though he'd spotted a minor deformity on them. He turned at the sound of Camellia's footsteps, and gave her a quick look up and down, his eyes stopping at the camellias near her neck. He gave a slight nod of approval. "Presentable."

And that was all he had to say. 'Thanks.' Camellia put as much sarcasm into her hands as she could muster. 'You're definitely not popular with the ladies.'

He scoffed. "As if I could care any less." Mozart walked out the door, with her following a half-step behind. Camellia thought he looked a little pale when he set his eyes on the carriage, but the expression passed as quick as it had come, and she decided she had imagined it.

But she realized it hadn't been her imagination when the carriage took off. Mozart's hands were gripping the seat, his knuckles turning white.

'You don't like carriages,' she signed, slightly concerned at the expression on his face.

"Don't give me that look," he said, his face damp with sweat. "I'm fine."

'Could've fooled me.'

"I was in an accident when I was younger."

That explained a lot, and as much as she wanted to help him by chattering uselessly the whole of the ride to distract him, she couldn't. So Camellia did the next best thing.

'Did you have dreams when you were younger?'

"You want to know about my dreams...?" He gave her a look that said she was out of her mind, and then sighed. "I had only goals."