The Books I'll Never Write

You're a Terrible Dancer

"You know, I don't know if anyone's ever told you, but you're a terrible dancer," he said lightly.

She pulled back to look him straight in the eyes, barely concealed anger in her gaze. "I beg your pardon?"

He forced down his laugh, but with very little success. "Don't get me wrong princess, technically speaking you're flawless. There's very little about you that isn't." She raised an eyebrow at his words but still stayed an arms length away. "But you don't seem to feel the music at all. You're terribly stiff and unfeeling."

As if to prove his point, her expression remained unchanged. 

"I will take that as a compliment," she said, cocking her head to one side, examining him. "People often do whatever it takes to get a rise out of their monarch. This dance, this expression," she whispered, focusing her gaze on something in the distance, "the one of safety and stone, is something I have come to pride myself on." 

She looked at him then, with rigid posture and unwaveringly cool gaze. "So, are there any other points of critique I can address while we're here?"

"Yes," he conceded, dipping his head so that nearby couples couldn't hear. "I think you're much too far away."

A flash of shock shot through her eyes, and for the tiniest moment she stumbled. But his arm circled her waist tighter and pulled her in, never breaking step. She was well aware of the whispers this inspired from onlookers, but she let herself linger in it for the tiniest moment before putting an acceptable amount of distance between them once more.

"You know, I think I like surprising you," he admitted.

"I never said I was surprised," she whispered, refusing to look at his smirk.

"No, you didn't," he said as his face brushed close to her ear. "But your eyes did." 

She looked at him sharply, the shock clearly visible.

"And the hitch in your breath." 

She was pretty sure she had stopped breathing.

"The strength of your grip on my arm," and he was smirking again. 

She suddenly realized she was basically clawing onto him, and they had floated far too close together once more.

"I wouldn't be concerned though, I don't think anyone else has noticed," he chuckled as she looked around at the crowd that had gathered to watch them. She shook her head, as if to clear from it something no one else could see. "Noticed what," she said breathlessly. She looked up then, expecting to see him smug at how many people his little stunt had drawn in. 

Instead he was looking down at her, his face so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. His gaze was unnerving, and yet she wanted nothing more than for everyone else to disappear so she could let him keep looking at her like that forever.

The music of the song faded, leaving them the sole couple on the floor. He startled, as if coming out a trance and also noticing that they were now being scrutinized by every onlooker.

"Oh, just that they must also have noticed how terrific of a dancer you are," he said, louder than necessary for the benefit of those around them. He spun her away and then did a joking little bow, and she reciprocated with an over-exaggerated curtsey, which elicited a light round of applause and laughter from the other guests, their curiosities satisfied.

Everyone went back to their own conversations, leaving the two in a new sort of dance. It seemed they both were unwilling to make eye contact, but he broke away first.

"I'll see you later Princess," he murmured, and dropped her hand almost regretfully.

She hadn't even realized he had still been holding it.