Lily’s secret to parties was to always remain at least slightly in motion until she found a clique she could cling to.

She’d heard it said that every star in the night sky was an angel. Demons who tried to fly down from the moons had to be careful, because if they drifted too near a single star, they’d be caught fast in the angel’s orbit, and then they’d be as good as hers.

Lily maintained a docile smile as she drifted across the ballroom and searched for a group she hadn’t tried yet. She was having trouble finding an orbit that would have her.

She didn’t know most of the people here very well, aside from Isma. They were casual acquaintances, old family friends. A few had supported her claim before, and they had already greeted her to congratulate her and exchange pleasantries, but that had been the extent of it. For some reason, none of the interactions were sticking.

The last thing Lily could afford was to spend the whole evening watching awkwardly from the outskirts. The goal tonight was to get caught by a star, but not by Isma’s. She couldn’t just clutch at her main sponsor’s sleeve the whole night, even if Isma didn’t mind.

Say hello. Be seen. Be friendly. But do not flirt, and do not, under any circumstances, let anyone try to court you. It’s your first night out. Don’t make yourself look like an easy target.

Lily kept her smile docile and merry and forced her hands to remain still at her sides.

She’d been drifting for half an hour now with no luck. The idea of retreating back into a corner—or to Isma’s sheltering presence—was getting more and more tempting.

She wished Isma would just come up and introduce her to some people. Maybe someone she could dance with, while the gentle dance was still active and dancing wouldn’t scan as anything but friendly. But every time Lily went to greet Isma, the baroness seemed totally disinterested in sending Lily from her side.

It didn’t help that half the people here her age, who she might have liked to talked to, were already on the dance floor.

She’d always been good at parties. At least, she’d thought she was.

Tonight, she’d never felt so paralyzed.

“You take wide strides, Countess Wellseek!” chimed a voice from directly behind her.

Lily nearly squeaked in surprise. She turned to see a young noblewoman she didn’t recognize. The lady looked a little out-of-breath, and Lily realized she’d probably been following Lily for some time, trying to get her attention without being rude.

“Oh! I—” Lily felt her cheeks heating up, but she forced a good-natured laugh that sounded a bit more forced than she’d hoped. “You must accept my apologies! I didn’t see you there.”

“Oh, no!” The unknown lady shook her head quickly, making her platinum-blonde curls bounce and roil like thick, foamy waves. “No, no, no, it’s my fault, Countess. I’m not much for making myself heard sometimes.” She smiled shyly. “And a little exercise never did me any harm. I hope I didn’t startle you.”

She had an accent Lily couldn’t quite place. It felt familiar, though, with a clipped, twangy chirpiness that matched her informal manner of speaking but contrasted with a gossamer-soft voice. Her voice was tinged at the ends of sentences by a sleepy sort of vocal fry.

Lily shook her head quickly. “No, it’s lucky that you spoke up, or I might have led you on a nightlong marathon.”

The woman laughed. “True, true.”

Lily smiled back. The little joke was mostly reflexive—internally, her mind was racing, desperate to figure out who this woman was before it came up in conversation. The lady spoke like Lily knew her.

She looked for clues in the lady’s appearance. The lady wore a pastel blue headscarf of fuzzy angora wool wrapped around the back of her head, helping to hold up those flouncing curls. Her lips were painted a gentle matte pink, and dark freckles were scattered across an umber complexion warmed with rosy blush on pleasantly plump cheeks.

That pale hair was pinned by a little five-petaled scarlet blossom. Lily had seen the flower in mountain gardens, and she knew flowers were often the best clue, but… hard as she tried, she couldn’t quite name it. All she could remember was Settie correcting her that it wasn’t cowslip, and not to use the term ‘cowslip’ in polite company.

The young lady’s dress was definitely, thoroughly out of season, but it was much too… overt to be accidental. Nobody could wear a dress like that by accident. It was utterly gorgeous, clearly the work of a master seamstress, laced and embroidered in stunningly elaborate patterns. Red and white hearts ran merrily across the fine pink silks, framed by pale lace. The dress’s hem gave way to many-layered petticoats. Elegant red ribbons affixed a crocheted red rose on either side of her wide hips.

Beneath the petticoats, Lily could just make out a pair of white stockings under pink dancing slippers, each tied with pink ribbons and adorned with glimmering pearls.

The dress was breathtaking. It was also unbelievably cutesy to an absurd degree. It was hyperfeminine, childishly so, in the way that almost condescended to its wearer. It flattered just as shamelessly, too—not by bearing skin, but by hugging her figure closely where it counted.

And this girl had a decadent figure. She was soft in every way. Her gaze was soft. Her smile was soft. And her figure was… very soft. Healthy. Very healthy.

The only jewelry the noblewoman wore was a small ruby brooch affixed to the fuzzy scarf. For some reason, Lily’s eyes fell upon this item last, but it finally told her exactly who she was dealing with.

“Princess Emberlace of Redport.” Lily made her smile warm and amiable, though internally she felt her guard rising. The Marquise had her own claim to the throne. That wasn’t exactly uncommon in the valley, but it made the Marquise undeniably a rival. Her being the first person to actively seek Lily out tonight wasn’t necessarily a coincidence. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure!”

“Not yet.” The Marquise smiled gently. “I hope you can pardon my no-introduction. None of my friends seem to know any of yours, but it didn’t seem any kind of right to leave another lady on her lonesome at the Harvest Ball.”

Their friends not knowing each other wasn’t much surprise. Redport and Wellmint were on rather bad terms, and besides that, Redport and Wellseek were basically on opposite ends of the Rose Valley.

Another lady. She said it so warmly in that cloudy-sweet voice.

Lily was embarrassed to feel her smile growing a little more genuine. “Oh, well—that’s very kind of you, Your Highness.”

She knew better than to refuse to use the title. Aside from the obvious rudeness, refusing the title would indicate she felt it was meant for someone else, and her claim was still in limbo at the moment.

To Lily’s surprise, the Marquise started giggling. She had a moment’s embarrassment before Emberlace recovered and shook her head. “Oh, please, there’s no need for titles. We’re peers, aren’t we? Call me Emberlace, Countess.”

It wasn’t just the words that put Lily at ease. It was that casual, rustic manner of speaking. There was no pretense in Emberlace’s voice, and that counted for a lot to Lily.

“In that case, Lily is fine.” Lily realized she was beaming and quickly forced a more demure smile. “As—as we’re both peers, after all.”

Emberlace beamed wide without a hint of reservation. “Oh, I think I like you, Lily.” She tilted her head toward the northern end of the room. There were fewer lamps lit there, and the crowd was a little smaller. “Would you mind if we retired to the shade? These bright lights and loud noises tend to put me all out of sorts.”

“Oh, not at all! I feel the same way, actually.” Lily’s fingers rapped happily against the sides of her hips. “It’s funny, I used to be a lot better with crowds, I think, but…”

With a patient smile, Emberlace turned and started walking north.

Lily trailed off, then followed—careful to keep pace without looking desperate.

* * *

“—and the shepherdess just spent ten seconds staring at the thing before she turned back to the knight, gave him the most… confident toss of her head, and told him: ‘It’s a sheep if it says it’s a sheep, boss, so I says the number of sheep hasn’t changed’.”

“She didn’t.” Lily could barely hold in her laughter. “What—what did he say to that?”

“Oh, nothing, really.” Emberlace gave a breathy little sigh and shake of her head. “What can you say to that? They sent him to drive off a myrwyrm, not get into fights with shepherdesses. He just told her to keep it away from large bodies of water and then rode off.”

Lily grinned. “After all of that fuss? The poor man.”

“The poor shepherdess.” Emberlace’s eyebrows rose slightly. “The flock tithes are calculated by average weight.”

That was too much, and Lily snickered behind gloved fingertips. Emberlace giggled, too.

Lily had been on her guard with Emberlace. She knew Emberlace was a rival, if not an enemy outright. She knew Redport was currently embroiled in no less than two separate trade wars over access to fairy silks. She knew Redport’s superior control over the Stygian Pass—and all river traffic therein—made it a deceptively terrifying enemy despite all rustic appearances. She knew Emberlace was purportedly courting the Lord of Blacktower, threatening a formidable alliance across the western mountains.

Unfortunately, Lily was finding that she really, really liked Emberlace.

Emberlace had none of the venom in her that Lily had become so used to from nobles her age. She talked about peasants like they were people, with genuine interest—if anything, with more interest than when she talked about other nobles. Everything she said was as sweet and sincere as a fresh peach. There was no pretense. She didn’t talk over Lily. She didn’t lace half-hidden insults into every nice thing she said.

Best of all, she’d admitted openly that she hated these parties.

“So you…” Lily paused, taking a deep breath to restore some composure. “Did I hear you mention earlier a… fondness for horseback riding?”

Emberlace’s lashes lowered a little as dimples pressed into those lovely cheeks. “Oh, well, I’m no great talent at it, I’m sure. Speaking technically, our ‘horses’ are actually…” She hummed, appearing to think. “… I think your word for them is ‘mountain ponies’? Or ‘ox deer’. We haven’t got any horses up in Redport.”

“Oh, right! Because of the terrain?”

Emberlace tittered for a few seconds. Lily had learned this was more a tic of the girl’s than a sign anyone had just said something foolish. It was kind of cute, really. Almost reminiscent of a lamb’s bleat. “Yes, because of the terrain. And their size, and their moods.” She tilted her head slightly. “The ladies of Redport find it fashionable to ride docile, timid creatures. Horses are too big and too rough for us.”

“I adore horses,” Lily blurted excitedly. She immediately winced, realizing this might come across as defensive. She hemmed lightly. “What I mean is, I’m fond of all forms of riding. I… I find horses can actually be quite timid creatures.”

“Oh?” Emberlace blinked wide eyes. “But they’re as big as mountains!”

Lily was getting the sense that Emberlace’s small stature was not uncommon in Redport. “Being that big comes with its own kind of fragileness, though. Fragility, I mean. A little goat can stumble and pick itself back up and be back to trotting in no time. A horse that stumbles puts a massive amount of weight onto one unsteady hoof. There isn’t much you can do for a horse with a broken leg.”

“Oh, my.” Emberlace nodded slowly. Lily dared to think she seemed genuinely interested.

“And… when they do lash out, it’s often because they’re just afraid.” Lily reached up to adjust her poinsettia, mostly for something to do with her hands. “Which does still make them dangerous, but—well, I mean, they can’t help that. A frightened wolf is more dangerous than a frightened mouse, but that doesn’t mean the wolf isn’t just as scared. Part of riding a horse is learning to gauge its mood and help it fear less.”

“Once it’s broken,” Emberlace pointed out. Her lips twitched. “Right? Don’t you have to break a horse in to make it safe to ride?”

Lily hesitated, then nodded, feeling a slight heat rising in her cheeks. She needed to not get defensive about this. She kept her voice very slow and mild. “I would guess mountain ponies work much the same. It’s less… I prefer to see it as being less about ‘breaking’ and more about showing it that having a rider isn’t something to be afraid of.” She’d always had mixed feelings about this part of horse training, so she’d thought a lot about what it really meant. It was exciting to get to share some of those thoughts with someone. “You’re showing the horse that a rider can be part of what keeps it safe.“

She paused. Emberlace was nodding, but not replying. She still seemed to be listening, though.

“It’s symbiotic,” Lily went on, smiling slightly. “Like any social relationship. Like a dog and its master, or—or, well, even like a romantic couple, I think. Or like the horse in its herd. Having a rider is just like a different kind of symbiosis. It benefits the horse and the rider, it’s just—it takes some getting used to. And once it’s used to it, the connection is—it can be beautiful. It’s unique and special. It’s not breaking, it’s learning.”

She paused again, struggling to shake the feeling that she was talking too much about horses. Emberlace didn’t seem bored, but the soft-spoken girl could be being polite. Lily gave a small nod, wordlessly trying to pass the conversation along.

Emberlace appeared to wait a moment before speaking.

“Hm.” Her cheeks dimpled in a small smile. “Do you suppose the horse would choose it at the start, if it gathered all of what you just told me?”

“If it…” Lily had to think a moment about that. She hesitated. “Possibly? If the horse had person-level intelligence, probably not, but…” She gave an unsure wobble of her head. “The trouble with questions about, um, agency with regards to horses and hounds is that horses and hounds… they’re clever, but they aren’t actually people. They see the world very differently from us.”

“So people don’t like being tied and caged and broken, but horses and hounds do?” The question was cutting, but Emberlace’s tone was playful, and her smile was as gentle and sweet as ever.

Lily smiled ruefully. “Well, I imagine horses and hounds hate the inconvenience of it, and no creature likes the feeling of being in danger and unable to escape, but indignation feels like a very human emotion to me. We coop up sheep and chickens because they don’t know how to protect themselves. I’m sure they don’t like it, but if they understood why we did it, we also wouldn’t… need to do it.” She was drifting a little from the topic. She quickly forced herself back on track. “It’s a matter of having the capacity for pride, in the end. People have too much pride for that sort of thing.”

She let the conversation hang there, hands twitching at her sides.
Emberlace regarded her for a moment, head tilting from side to side. “Hm. So… what I gather from all this is that you’re fond of horseback riding?”

Lily beamed. She nodded eagerly.

Emberlace gave a little stream of giggles. “You’ve been riding long, have you?”

“Yes. Since I was a—a girl.” Lily clasped her hands together self-consciously. “I think it started as an excuse to leave the house, but it’s… always nice to hone a skill and know that you’re good at it. Although—” She pulled a face without thinking, but quickly righted it to a more demure expression. “Although now there’s quite a bit to relearn.”

“Oh, of course.” Emberlace nodded sympathetically. “Riding sidesaddle does take some getting used to, doesn’t it?”

Lily sighed. “Yes, apparently.”

Emberlace’s eyes briefly caught the lamplight, and sparkles danced across those big blue eyes. “Welcome to women’s riding.” She clasped her hands behind her back and gave a playful little toss of her hair. “It just takes a little practice. I can give you a lesson sometime!”

Lily’s smile felt unsure of itself, but she nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that jester, Mercury, approaching the musicians’ stage. “You’re very kind.”

“Oh, I just remember how I felt when I first started out.” Emberlace reached out to gently pat Lily’s arm. “It can be hard on a beginner.”

“W-Well, I’m not a—” Lily bit back the defensive retort, though she could feel her cheeks getting hotter. She noticed Mercury putting a hand on a cellist’s shoulder and whispering something in his ear.

“So how many horses do you keep?” Emberlace asked. She appeared not to have noticed Lily’s slip.

“Oh, I—” Lily’s brows knit. She wasn’t sure how to answer that. “Well, I’m usually just helping take out whichever horse needs the exercise, but…”

The current song drew to a close, and Lily trailed off.

Without the music to smooth over the acoustics, all the room’s chatter briefly rose to fill the emptiness. Dozens of unknown voices and unknown conversations quickly formed a steady, rumbling murmur. Lily didn’t want to try to raise her voice to make herself heard over the din, so she just waited, shifting in place.

As the musicians began the next song, the chattering died down once more. A spark of recognition flared inside Lily’s chest. She blinked, then beamed up towards the stage.

It was the first song she’d recognized all evening. She’d never heard it performed professionally like this, but… it was essentially a waltz, she supposed, when it wasn’t being sung by a nursemaid or governess by the bedside.

Emberlace’s head lifted. “Oh! Is that The Dandelion Loom?” Her face lit up with a smile, and Lily felt her own smile widening at the realization that Emberlace liked the same song she did. “I’ve never danced to that before.”

Lily froze. The hint was obvious.

Wasn’t it? That was a hint, surely. And she’d finally found a friend she could dance with acceptably. Not only was Emberlace also a girl, she probably already had a suitor—a male suitor.

Lily bit her lip, nails running under knuckles. “Would you—” She cleared her throat. “I haven’t, either, you know, and I… wouldn’t mind giving it a try.”

“Maybe we could join the others for a little?” Emberlace suggested. “While we’ve still the chance. I feel like they cut the gentle dance short a bit earlier every year.”

Right, yes. The gentle dance usually gave way to couples-dancing midway through. Lily hadn’t so much as glanced at the dance floor since they’d started talking, but clearly Emberlace had been paying better attention.

Lily hesitated. Not out of any doubt or uncertainty, but to make sure her racing heart wouldn’t choke up the words.

She gave a slow, graceful nod. “That sounds lovely.”

Emberlace’s smile got a little brighter, and Lily had to firmly remind herself that there would be no romantic dancing tonight. Nobody would think anything of two young ladies dancing together. The gentle dance was for dancing with friends and relatives, or for merry group dances. And Emberlace liked boys. There was nothing flirtatious about this. Nothing.

She tried desperately to remind herself of all of that, but she still flinched slightly when Emberlace reached out and took her by the hand.

Even through the gloves, Lily could intimately feel every line across Emberlace’s soft palm, every delicate pumiced callous on her fingertips. The delicateness of those long fingers as they slightly interwove with Lily’s own…

“Then come and dance with me, dear Lily,” Emberlace said softly.

Lily gave a meek nod, not trusting herself to speak, and let herself be led.

* * *

The Dandelion Loom retained its gentleness as a waltz, Lily found. The music swam from note to note in easy, fluid grace, allowing her to sway back and forth in Emberlace’s arms without any stutter or stumble.

To her slight relief, Lily found she still knew how to dance.

“Easy, Lily,” Emberlace murmured. Her hand rested upon Lily’s hip. “Let me lead for a bit. I need the practice.”

“Mm.” Lily nodded again. She was used to leading, but this wasn’t a romantic dance, after all, and… as a woman, maybe she could defer. She let Emberlace guide her, trying to focus on the music and the motions, and not how Emberlace’s slender fingers gently caressed her own, or how Emberlace’s silky dress brushed against her when Emberlace spun her about. All those frilly layers… “S-So… where do you ride, when you do ride?”

Her voice came out even wispier than Emberlace’s.

“Out to the fields.” Emberlace’s eyes briefly closed as she gave Lily a gentle twirl. Lily kept her eyes fixed on Emberlace’s, determined not to let them wander. Gods, Emberlace’s body was so… Lily was so… “To see the flocks. Although my dogs do like me better on foot.”

“Oh, you—you keep dogs, too?” Lily hesitated. “For hunting?”

“No, no, I’m not much of a hunter, truth be told.” Emberlace giggled. Her eyes closed for a moment. “The dogs help us mind the flocks. They’re very clever beasts.”

“Oh! So they… what, help fend off wolves?” Lily held back a little giggle of her own as they twirled again. She was having trouble focusing on her footwork; the best she could do was try to match Emberlace’s.

“Yes. And help corral our strays back into the flock.” Emberlace’s voice was almost in tune with the music. “You can’t really train a sheep to do much, but a dog… you can do quite a lot with a dog.”

“Oh.” Lily nodded slowly. Emberlace was spinning her around a lot, which was making it harder to notice, but… were people looking at them? “Yes, I’ve… heard they’re clever.”

“They are.” Emberlace beamed. She had such a pretty smile. “Lily, you dance just beautifully.”

“O-Oh!” Lily felt heat flooding in. “Um, thank you, I—I practice whenever I get the chance. You do, as well.”

“But I can tell you’re new to following.” Emberlace’s eyes briefly caught the light of the chandeliers above, and sparkles filled Lily’s vision. “You take to it.”

Lily smiled shyly. “Th-Thank you.” There were eyes on the two of them. She was sure of it. She tried to catch someone’s eye to figure out why, but then Emberlace gave her another twirl, and she had to put all her focus into her footing for a second just to keep from tripping. The world blurred briefly into a whirl of spinning colors.

“Fast learners are easy to train.”

Lily nearly stumbled. “What?”

“Dogs.” Emberlace smiled sweetly. “And horses. We were talking about them, remember? You click your tongue to to get a horse’s attention, kick its sides to tell it where it goes and when it stops. Dogs aren’t too different.”

“Oh.” Lily nodded weakly. “Right, that… makes sense.” She blinked rapidly and looked around; sure enough, there seemed to be a lot of eyes on them. Was something wrong? Was she being paranoid? “I—”

“Do you like my dress?”

“Wh—” Lily’s eyes shot back to Emberlace’s, then to the dress. “I—yes, it’s beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking.” She wasn’t thinking too much about the words she chose. Her focus had settled easily upon the gorgeous gown. All those frilly petticoats lagged a little behind every elegant twirl, their layers rippling like wave after wave of fine lace, of rippling softness, those lovely ruby ribbons sparkling in the light…

Emberlace tittered. Lily bit her lip, even though she knew the laughter wasn’t at her expense. “Well, it’s not really the fashion of the time. I’m pleased as anything that you like it, Lily.” Her lashes fluttered coquettishly. “That’s all that matters, really. No matter what the gentlemen think.”

The gentlemen. Yes. Emberlace was… she wasn’t…

Lily tried to keep her smile small and reserved, but everything inside her was fluttering and billowing about like petals in a cyclone. “It’s very… charming.” She realized this might seem condescending and hastily added, “I mean that in a good way! A very good way. It makes you look like—like a princess out of time, almost.”

Her own poeticism caught her off-guard, and she felt the fluttering get worse as a rosy flush took Emberlace’s plump cheeks. Emberlace’s head tilted back a little. “You’re much too kind, Lily~”

Lily swallowed and smiled. Internally, she was thrashing with embarrassment—both at the effusiveness of that compliment and the fact that she’d just called a rival to the throne a princess out of time—but Emberlace wasn’t just a rival. Emberlace was a friend. She didn’t have to…

They twirled again. Lily almost squeaked; the effort of keeping rhythm was taking every ounce of her focus now. She could hear whispering, and anxiously wondered if it was about her—why were so many people staring?—

“The dress is quite comfortable, too,” Emberlace purred. “Very soft, you see?” She lowered the hand holding Lily’s briefly to brush Lily’s cheek, and Lily’s breath seized up as the soft lacy fabrics caressed her bare skin. Oh. Oh.

“Soft,” Lily mumbled. “I, um… yes, quite so.”

Ladies did this. Talked about pretty dresses. Showed off their quality. It wasn’t… she wasn’t… but it certainly felt very…

Twirl. Lily kept her eyes on Emberlace’s, desperate to control the dizziness. She felt strange. Out of sorts in a… different way, almost. Different. Whatever that meant.

Emberlace was so pretty. Emberlace smiled at her, and Lily smiled back, shyness sending ripples of skittish delight through her and making her heart beat much too fast. Could Emberlace feel her pulse through her wrist? Was it obvious to all?

All that whispering, the stares…

Lily’s gaze briefly drifted to the other dancers, and she finally managed to process the issue.

Every couple on this dance floor consisted of a man and a woman.

Except for Lily and Emberlace.

Lily almost froze. She would have tripped, if Emberlace hadn’t at that moment paused the dance and pulled her in a little closer.

“You would look so pretty in a dress like this,” cooed the Princess of Redport.

“Emberlace,” Lily mumbled. Her cheeks were getting very hot. “It’s—the gentle dance is—”

“Unless you wouldn’t rather just stare at me wearing it?”

Lily’s throat seized up tight. She looked down at Emberlace in a panic. Emberlace was close enough briefly that the dress was right up against Lily’s body, caressing every inch of bare skin so delicately with its cloud-soft ruffles and frills.

Lily’s eyes were wide, but all she could see was Emberlace. Cute, gorgeous hyper-feminine Princess Emberlace, with the big dark blue eyes reflecting all the sparkling lights of the ballroom and the plump pink lips and the adorable pink dress…

“I,” Lily squeaked. No. No, no, no, she’s not—she wouldn’t—

Emberlace let out another stream of sweet, melodic giggles. Her fingers caressed Lily’s palm, delicate, dainty, deliberate, and Lily felt something terrifying.

Down below, between her legs, Lily felt a tiny little twitch.

She was starting to get hard. She was starting to leak. No, please, not in a white dress, not now, if anyone saw—

“But you’d look just ravishing, Countess Lily,” Emberlace purred. Her wispy vocal fry pulled Lily in, immersed her like a crackly little stormcloud. “Or ravishable. Do you know how we train dogs?”

“Emberlace,” Lily whispered. She could still leave. She could still excuse herself and walk away with her dignity, this was a minor embarrassment as long as no one saw… “I—I fear I must…”

Twirl. Lily’s lips parted as her feet skittered beneath her, as the world swept around the two of them and the pretty dress fluttered and spun, hearts swirling round and round… “With treats. And sounds. And touch.” Emberlace’s gentle, affectionate smile… oh, gods, Lily was smiling, too, she couldn’t help it… “Every dog is different. Every dog has their own very particular weak points.” Tingles spread through Lily’s body at how carefully Emberlace’s tongue caressed the words.

“I should…” Ambush. This is an ambush. Get out. Get out now. Polite, but firm.

“You really are so beautiful, Lily,” came Emberlace’s sweet, liquid bubbling coo, and Lily trembled a little as they twirled again. Another twitch. More leaking. She could only pray the layers were still concealing it well. If only she had a dress like Emberlace’s to hide it… “I had no idea you’d be so pretty. Not fair at all.”

“F-Fair?” Lily blinked rapidly, struggling to even out her breathing. She needed to shake this off, but her hands were captive to the dance… Emberlace’s hand was still on her hip, guiding her swings and sways… “But… but I thought you favored…”

“Gentlemen? Oh, I fear those sorts are just so awfully boring.” Emberlace let out another trickle of windchime-giggles. “I’ve never much cared for them.”

No. Oh no.

“But girls like you…” Emberlace licked her lips, leaving them glistening. Lily let out the tiniest of whimpers as soft fingertips caressed between hers and slowly began to interlace tightly. “Well, it’s just a bit easier, you know? To start out. People need to see I’ve still got control of myself. And that my claim is still very much active.”

“Emberlace, please.” Twitch. Leak. Lily gave her head a minute shake, fear and betrayal and helpless desire making words and breath catch and stumble in her throat. “D-Don’t…”

“And when I kiss you at the end of this dance,” Emberlace sang, “with you all blushy and adorable and so obviously under my thumb… it’s just going to be so much better for us.”

“Please.” Lily felt her need growing. She begged her own body to pull away, but something about Emberlace’s soft, staticky voice had her mind and body locked in separate rooms, separate worlds, and letting go of Emberlace’s soft, gentle hand felt as real a possibility as learning to fly.

Emberlace gave a breathy sigh. “I’d say it’s nothing personal…” She gave Lily another merciless twirl, and Lily’s world spun and spun until all she could see was Emberlace. Lily’s lips were parted. She could barely breathe, and at the same time she felt like she was a blink away from panting. “… but then you had to be so very sweet.” Her eyes held every light within them, lightning sparking across dark blue skies. “And so very pretty.”

The song was drawing to a close. Lily was immersed in hot, crackling need, her need was twitching and leaking and getting harder and harder. She tried to whimper one last plea, but not a single sound escaped her quivering lips. She licked them instinctively as Emberlace’s grip tightened. A kiss… a kiss from Emberlace…

“It makes me worry.” The Princess of Redport’s voice dropped to the softest of whispers as she moved in for the kill. “My lover just might get jealous~”

“May I have this dance?”

Emberlace froze and abruptly jerked back, jolting Lily out of the strange trance. Lily’s mouth snapped shut. She blinked dizzily at the new arrival.

It was another face she didn’t recognize. They had been approached by a deeply beautiful noblewoman about their age. Her long rosy dawn-red hair was done up in twin braids to loop over slender shoulders like coiled serpents. She was dressed in a pale green gown just on the edge of the current fashion, and dark-painted lashes fluttered lightly across strikingly pale cheeks. She wore a trio of rose campions tucked behind one ear.

She was looking at Lily, but still dazed, it look Lily a moment to realize she wasn’t the one being propositioned.

“My Lady,” Emberlace breathed, and this title wasn’t much help in narrowing things down for Lily. “I—the Countess and I—”

“Oh, really, Emberlace, let the poor girl be.” The lady giggled. She held out a hand to Emberlace. “She’s been very polite with you so far, but even the graceful Countess of Wellseek must be allowed to sit down and relax sometime. If you’re so eager to dance with girls…”

Emberlace blinked twice. She looked at the newcomers, then at Lily. Lily couldn’t help but pity that sudden uncertainty in those soft, sparkling eyes.

But her capacity for grace and empathy was feeling a little strained tonight.

“I was honored to be your first dance tonight, Princess Emberlace,” Lily said, ducking her eyes demurely with a shallow dip of her head. “But I do fear you may have misconstrued my intentions.”

Emberlace’s cheeks reddened. Her eyes darted about the room, the brief glint of a cornered animal appearing within. Then she gave the two of them a smile.

“Of course,” she said, her tone as breathy and soft and calm as ever—but it no longer matched her eyes. “But I fear that was my first and last dance for the evening. It seems we… waited too long, and the gentle dance ended before we noticed.”

“It seems so.” Lily smiled tightly back. “The gentle dance does seem to end earlier and earlier every year. It’s a pity. I—” She had to carefully control her voice on the next words. “I should have liked to dance with a friend tonight.”

She’d meant her response as a peace offering, but thorns dug their way in anyways.

Emberlace didn’t answer. She spun about and made her way to the far end of the hall.

After a moment’s hesitation, Lily turned and made her way to the seating area on the other side. Deep, deep breath in. Hold it tight. Hold it.

“Do you mind if I sit with you, then, Countess?” she heard the newcomer ask. “I think I prefer people-watching to dancing, myself.”

The sense of hurt and betrayal lingered in Lily, and wariness was clouding her judgment. She wanted nothing more to do with this ball. She wanted to flee back to her room and sob into her pillow and never speak to any of these people again. None of that was an option.

She let the breath out and nodded. “That would be fine,” she managed. “But you have me at a disadvantage, I fear.”

The lady smiled slightly. “Princess Anairete, of Hopesway.”

“A pleasure.” Lily had never been to Hopesway before. She’d heard it was ruled by a lord, not a lady, but maybe Ana’s husband was somewhere else in attendance.

Lily nodded respectfully and turned to make her way to the seating area. The smile seemed… if not sincerely friendly, at least coolly neutral. Maybe coolly neutral was for the best. A married woman, too, would be some reprieve.

She just needed to stay away from all these horrible women determined to ruin her.