Warning!

**SPOILER ALERT** Chapter two of this fanfic will contain a minor spoiler for the Pritkin short story, Shadowland, that was briefly posted on Karen Chance's web site. This is assuming that I'm remembering the details of the short story correctly. If you don't want to take a chance that I'm right, STOP READING NOW!

A/N: I warned you guys. I'm trying to get all of my fanfics posted before June 7. All of the characters and their wonderful world belong to the amazing Karen Chance. I'm just happy I get to play with them from time to time. Feedback always welcome.

Chapter 1

Is That What You're Wearing?

I winced as Mircea's foot narrowly missed coming down on my little toe. Again. The same toe he had stepped on three waltz turns ago.

"Dulçeata, I am so sorry." Mircea's chocolate brown eyes held concern and a touch of frustration. In the last couple of weeks, I had come to accept his concern for me, but I was surprised that Mircea, chief diplomat and negotiator for the North American vampire senate, would actually let his frustration show, even if only a little bit. I hadn't thought I was a horrible dancer. When I was a kid, my very proper governess, Eugenie, had made sure I knew the basics. But apparently dancing around my room with Eugenie and Rafe, the closest person to a father I'd had, wasn't enough preparation. My dancing lesson with Mircea had been going on for almost half an hour, and I didn't think I had shown any signs of improvement.

"My lord, you do not need to apologize. It is the woman's fault when the man steps on the lady's foot."

"What!" I suddenly stopped, not sure I'd heard that correctly. It was only Mircea's vampire reflexes that avoided another collision. I turned to look at Casanova, my incubus/vampire dance instructor. "How do you figure? He's stepping on my feet!"

"He is supposed to lead. This means the man steps first and the woman trusts him enough to step after. If you were doing it right, Lord Mircea's foot would touch the ground a moment before your own. So, if his foot is on the floor before yours, there is no way he can step on your clumsy—"

"Casanova! Enough!" Mircea's voice held the command of a first level master. Casanova glared at Cassie, but was silent. "Dulçeata, let us try again. You must relax and I promise it will come naturally to you."

I bit my lip and nodded. In two days I would be officially declared Pythia, chief seer of the supernatural community. If that wasn't bad enough, the ceremony was immediately followed by a reception that tradition demanded involve dancing. And not just any old type of dancing. Besides the waltz, I was expected to know two court dances from a couple of centuries ago that were still popular with some of the older vamps. And the Electric Slide. I shook my head and fought to keep a frown off my face. This job just kept getting better and better.

Mircea took my hand. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he whispered in my ear, "You will do fine." I bit my lip. If only it was that easy.

Once again we circled the dance floor in time to the violins coming out of the speakers hooked up to Casanova's iPod.

"I thought we had a training session scheduled." Pritkin's annoyed voice cut right through the violins. Once again I came to a sudden stop. Mircea solved the problem of stepping on my feet this time by sweeping me off them and into his arms.

"You'll have to do your macho running and punching some other day." Casanova waved a dismissive hand towards Pritkin. "She's so—" he glanced at Mircea before finishing, "improving and she has to keep practicing."

Pritkin scowled and looked like he was about say something, but stopped himself at my unspoken plea. I looked up at Mircea and sighed. Mircea had that faraway look on his face that I'd quickly grown to hate. High-level vampires could communicate with each other telepathically. It always made me feel a little left out.

"I'm sorry," he said as he set me back on my feet. "It's Senate business. I have to go. The Consul needs me."

He brushed a curl out of my eyes and drew me close. Mircea and I hadn't had many opportunities to be together lately. With the war and his responsibilities to the Senate and his vampire family, he was away most of the time. He'd finally agreed to my definition of dating, which meant when he was in town, sex wasn't our only activity. Actually, as his lips touched mine for a good-bye kiss, I was very aware that sex hadn't been one of our activities since we'd started dating.

I was also suddenly aware of Pritkin's eyes on me and slipped out of the circle of Mircea's arms. I don't know why I suddenly felt self-conscious. It wasn't news that Pritkin didn't like vampires. Mircea had been at the top of his do-not-like list even before all of the trouble with the geis. I hadn't had many private moments with Mircea lately, and I was determined Pritkin's disapproval wasn't going to ruin my mood.

"Do you know when you'll be back?" That came out a little more irritated than I wanted.

Mircea shook his head. "I do not." He kissed my hand. "I know we had planned on having dinner together, but this could take a while."

"Call me when you get back." God, that didn't sound desperate. I was so pathetic. "I'll be up late studying," I hurried to add.

That faraway look came back to his eyes, and I knew I no longer had his complete attention. "Of course, dulçeata." He surprised me when he turned to Pritkin as he was leaving. "Mage Pritkin, I trust you will not leave her too tired from your workout for her to finish her preparations for the ceremony."

"Of course," Pritkin said. I flinched at the sarcasm in his voice and hoped Mircea hadn't noticed it, too.

The two men in my life stared at each other like attack dogs on short leashes. I held my breath when Mircea's eyes flashed amber, but he only turned on his heel and left.

Damn it. It wasn't fair. The Consul had ruined the evening I had planned with Mircea and I still hadn't mastered the waltz. I'd saved learning it for last, because Casanova had assured me it was the easiest of the dances I was required to know.

"Are you planning on working out in that?" Pritkin was eyeing my outfit with narrowed eyes. Augustine wouldn't let my coronation gown out of his sight, but he'd insisted I practice moving around in a similar gown. I wore a white silk dress that clung to my body until just past my hips where it flared into an ocean of silk that swirled around me with every move. Between the dress and the spiked heels Casanova made sure I wore to my dance lessons, it was no wonder I was having trouble with the waltz.

"No! I'm sure Augustine has spelled this dress to report back to him every speck of dust I get on it."

He was silent for a moment, and I felt my skin start to prickle under his gaze. "I'll wait while you change."