Charting the Motions of the Stars
Chapter I
"I don't want to do this," Rinoa said, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The dress she wore was beautiful, from the most famous shop in Deling City. The pearls draped across her neck had belonged to her mother, so long ago. Her father had presented them to her on her 16th birthday, her first year as a lady.
She certainly didn't feel like a lady now. She felt like throwing a tantrum. It would be a good long one, with lots of inappropriate words that would turn her father's face a pretty shade of purple.
"It is a good match." Her hand servant—as her father called her—said. Rinoa only rolled her eyes at the thought and turned around to stare at Selphie, sitting on the bed. She was in her uniform, but she was relaxed like she always was when Robert Caraway wasn't present. Rinoa no longer allowed him in her rooms. She thought she deserved at least some safe haven away from him.
"You're too optimistic," Rinoa said, brushing her hand over the slick silk of her dress. The winter festival months had a dress code, either white or blue, holiday colors. Rinoa had always chosen white. It reminded her of her mother, warm memories of soft robes at bedtime and being bundled into pale coats that warmed while mimicking the snow outside.
"You're too convinced that this prince, or whatever he is, is going to be awful." Selphie crossed her ankles. "You haven't even met him yet. Didn't your father say you could decide after tonight's gala?"
"What he meant was I better decide that I like him," Rinoa said, sighing. "He's being really forceful over this one. I'm too young for these things." She walked the few feet to her dresser to pick up her hairbrush, stroking it through her hair idly. Her hands wanted to be busy, so they wouldn't shake—with nerves or anger. Rinoa wasn't sure which one was stronger.
"Sixteen going on seven?" Selphie asked. She laughed at the look Rinoa shot her. "I'm teasing; you know I am." Selphie smiled at her, face bright and cheerful. Rinoa returned it, but she knew it didn't reach her eyes. She wished she had Selphie's endless supply of positive thoughts, because she could use it right about now. Rinoa always marveled that Selphie Tilmitt was more cheerful than anyone else she knew. Circumstances were just circumstances and Rinoa had come to be at peace with those long ago. Selphie's adoptive parents had always worked for the Caraways, and Selphie had just fallen in line when she had aged appropriately. Neither set of parents had expected that she and Selphie would bond, not as lady and servant, but instead as friends. Rinoa always watched Selphie with her family and recognized the jealousy that she didn't have that.
Spoiled little princess, Rinoa thought snidely, calling to mind newspapers from the past year. Everyone was quick to write her off that way, she knew. It made sense; what right did she have to be sad when across the world people were starving and children went without their birth families? Rinoa was aware that because of her name and her family, she could never be unhappy. People in her position weren't allowed unhappiness.
"Maybe if you don't get along, your dad will see reason," Selphie said. "I mean, how much does he really know about these people, anyway?"
Rinoa put her brush down and stared at her still-bare feet. "If he knows anything more about Esthar, he's not telling me. All I know is that it's the president's son and his name is Squall."
"Romantic name." Selphie pursed her lips. "Of course, it could also mean something that he's named after a nasty storm." Her eyes flashed. "He better not be a jerk. I'll send Irvine after him." Selphie couldn't keep the smile from overtaking her severe look.
Rinoa grinned back. She loved seeing Selphie so happy, and Irvine definitely made her so. They had been childhood friends for years. Just a few weeks ago on Selphie's birthday, Irvine had kissed her, thoroughly, right outside her front door. Rinoa knew Selphie's joy over the moment was only slightly marred by the embarrassment that her parents had watched from behind the curtains. Irvine was a good man. Rinoa had attended the enlistment ceremony when Irvine had been inducted into the Galbadia military properly.
Rinoa hadn't told Selphie because she didn't want to upset her friend, but she knew what an alliance between Galbadia and Esthar meant at this time. It meant the end of the long, hostile war after Vinzer Deling's assassination eight months ago. It meant the recovery of the Galbadia economy. It meant that Irvine wouldn't be going to war. Rinoa didn't understand why Esthar and Galbadia were still fighting, even with Deling gone. Old habits died hard, she supposed.
"Caraway says he's handsome, whatever that means," Rinoa said, moving to sit on the bed. Selphie eyed her dress, but Rinoa didn't care if there were wrinkles. Maybe she would look mismanaged. That'd be funny commentary for the evening; how General Caraway couldn't even make sure his own daughter was presentable.
"Maybe it just means he's handsome," Selphie suggested, rising to go across the pale carpet to fetch Rinoa's shoes. "Maybe you should meet him before you demonize him. I mean, how many times have you met possible suitors over the years?"
"Lots," Rinoa said.
"And how many of them have been terrible?" Selphie returned and placed the shoes on the floor beside the bed.
"All of them," Rinoa said. "I shouldn't have to marry for politics."
"You know I agree." Selphie crossed her arms. "But hey, there's a bright side. Guys come to you. The rest of the world has to get out there and hunt. Then we hope we don't find the bear before, you know, the right guy."
Rinoa laughed. "Did that even make sense?" She shrugged. "It just seems to be my luck. Caraway has pulled out the worst guys over the years. With nasty attitudes and expectations—" Rinoa cut herself off. "Just, ew."
"Well, this Squall, he's your age." Selphie started picking up discarded clothes. It was habit, Rinoa knew. She tried her best to keep her room clean herself. She didn't want her friends picking up after her—it didn't feel right. She didn't say anything this time, as Selphie returned clothes to hangers. "Since he's your age, maybe you'll have more in common."
"And if we don't?" Rinoa was trying to be positive, but she had no clue what life in Esthar was like. For all she knew, maybe citizens of Esthar were completely different. She couldn't imagine what a teenage girl and boy from different countries would have in common.
"Then you discover new interests together?" Selphie paused as she headed toward the large closet, looking unsure. "I don't know."
Rinoa waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. I could sit here going what-if-what-if all night." She stood and toed into her shoes. "Instead of complaining, I'm going to go do something productive."
Selphie eyed her. "Like?"
"Like getting something to eat," Rinoa said. "I never get to eat at these things, I'm too busy talking or dancing or standing around being polite."
Selphie rolled her eyes. "At least let me go with you so you don't get food all over your dress."
Her shoes were too tight and her stomach was in knots as she and Selphie headed out of her rooms and toward the servant stairwell that led into the kitchens. Rinoa had lived in the mansion her whole life and with all its grand rooms, she preferred the rooms that most people didn't see to their lush sitting room and huge dining room. The servants Caraway hired had the best parts of the mansion, almost like secret rooms, cozy and warm and with the feeling of home.
"The general went all out this year; we almost couldn't handle it," Selphie said, stepping down the plain stairs. Rinoa knew Selphie didn't mind working in the kitchens and had been spending a lot of time the last few days helping out, even though it wasn't her position. Rinoa thought it was wonderful, how Selphie always helped everyone. She wished sometimes she could do the same, but her father controlled too much of her time. It was a shame, she thought, that he did it even when nowhere near her.
"It is the winter festival," Rinoa said, thinking about how in a few hours their huge ballroom would be opened and the entire upper crust of Deling City would pour in. Probably others, too, Rinoa mused. Caraway hadn't said anything, but Rinoa knew how to listen and she knew he was thinking of making a bid for the presidency in the spring if Galbadia and Esthar could come to a peaceful agreement. The back of Selphie's head smudged and then cleared as Rinoa followed her through the dimly lit passageway. She didn't like feeling like a stepping stone. She hated it.
She didn't have any more time to feel sorry for herself as Selphie pushed on the swinging door at the end of the hallway and they passed into the kitchen, full of light and sound and the smell of hundreds of types of food. Rinoa couldn't help but smile as she saw Zell Dincht at one of the many islands, stirring a bowl harshly, his face annoyed.
"You weren't lying about not having enough hands," Rinoa said, gesturing to Zell when Selphie looked back. "How'd you tear him away from his machines?"
"It's the middle of winter and all the cars are serviced," Selphie said. "And the grass cutters, all other gardening equipment, and anything else broken he could find. His mom finally put her foot down and made him come to help." She stuck her tongue out at Zell playfully as they walked by, and Zell almost dropped his spoon staring at Rinoa when she stopped to peer into his bowl. It looked like he was mixing chocolate chip cookies. She wondered if he would let her have some of the batter.
"Hey!" he said. "Are you supposed to be in here? Is this, like, one of those things where the owner walks through and judges everything? Shit!" He rubbed at his face with his arms, trying to remove the flour and batter splattered there. He froze and stared at her, face pale. "I'm sorry for using such, um, course language in the presence of your highness."
Rinoa laughed and Selphie backtracked to snort at him. "Wrong century, dummy. Rinoa comes down here all the time. Do you ever listen to your mom?"
Zell grinned, a bit sheepishly. "Uh, not really? She usually tries talking about her day at dinner. I can't talk and eat at the same time!"
"Or listen, apparently," Selphie said. She grabbed a spoon from the container on the island and dipped it into his bowl.
"Hey!" Zell protested. "You can't eat it like that!"
"Sure we can," Selphie said, handing it to Rinoa. "Don't get it on your dress," she said. "They'd blow me to smithereens if I got you dirty only hours before the ball."
Rinoa smiled and sampled the dough on the spoon, pleased. She gave Zell a thumbs up sign as he gaped at her. "It's good," she said, mumbling. "Thanks."
Zell just shook his head. "Girls are strange." He went back to stirring his bowl and Selphie grabbed Rinoa by her free arm and pulled her along. The kitchen was busier than Rinoa had seen in months—since her birthday, at least. She had had a beautiful party, attended by strangers she hadn't known, where she had been given gifts she would never use. The real party had been in the kitchen, with Mrs. Dincht, a simple chocolate cake and small gifts given to her by her friends.
"Where's Quistis?" Rinoa asked as they traced through the movement in the kitchen toward Zell's mother. "I haven't seen her all day."
Selphie couldn't lie worth anything. Her eyes gave her away when she looked back. Rinoa stopped in the middle of the path and stared. "Where is she?"
"Listen, don't get mad, okay?" Selphie kept walking, forcing Rinoa to follow if she wanted any answers. "She lost her job at the university," Selphie said, voice low. "She knew it was coming; with the way things are going, they can't keep teachers on." Rinoa knew all too well, too.
"Without her job there—" Rinoa wondered what her father would say or if he would say anything before firing Quistis to find a new tutor. Quistis had only been an instructor for a few months before she had been hired to give Rinoa lessons; she had gone through almost every licensed private tutor in the city. They were just so boring. Quistis had come in and made her want to learn. Even though Selphie had asked her not to, she already felt her temper rising. "Why didn't either of you tell me?" She pulled her wrist out of Selphie's grip, jerking to a stop. She barely missed getting hit in the head by a large platter of fruit, but dodged in time. She glared at the carrier of the tray and her friend in turn.
"We didn't want to worry you," Selphie said. "And the general won't be notified until after the festival events, anyway."
"I'll talk to him," Rinoa said. "I'll tell him I don't want another—"
"See, you're mad." Selphie wrung her white apron in her hands. "I knew you'd be mad. It's not like we do anything more than gossip about politics during your sessions."
"I still learn things," Rinoa said. "Who wants to read when you can talk it all out?" She was still gripping the spoon in her hand; it was digging into her skin. She carefully sat it down on the smooth tile of one of the surrounding counters so she wouldn't be tempted to throw it.
"Well, before you go running to yell at him again, let's wait for Quistis to tell us what she's going to do." Selphie nodded her head toward the center of the kitchen, where they were headed. Rinoa looked over to see Mrs. Dincht waving a wooden spoon in the face of one of the servers for the evening. She could only smile; even when Zell's mom tried to lecture, she only looked kind.
Mrs. Dincht stopped berating the worker when Rinoa and Selphie approached, a smile spreading across her face. "Why, Rinoa. You're beautiful. Why are you walking down here in our dirty kitchen for?" Rinoa only shook her head; Mrs. Dincht probably kept the cleanest kitchen in the entire city.
"Dinner," she said. "I won't have another chance to eat before late." There was the smell of rich, exotic food everywhere, but Rinoa knew that Mrs. Dincht hadn't forgotten her.
"Right you are." She put the spoon down, and the rigid server took that moment to step back, but Mrs. Dincht turned quickly. "Remember what I said! You don't rip their glasses out of their hands! Let them set them on the tray!" The server was already darting away as she shook her head. "Two of the regular servers are down with the cold going around. They give me new kids that have no manners," she explained as she headed toward the bank of stoves, pulling a pair of oven mitts from the pouch in her apron. Selphie waved Rinoa on to follow.
"You go eat. I have to check in for coat duty." She tossed up her hand in farewell and disappeared into the crowds of workers moving around the kitchen. It was normal but it wasn't the first time that it grated on Rinoa that her friends were on the opposite side of extreme lines.
"Don't look so glum." Mrs. Dincht opened an oven to pull out what looked like a pie—telling, because Rinoa's favorite comfort food was her chicken pot pie. "Winter festival is almost over and then it's back to normal."
"There's at least two more balls before that," Rinoa complained, moving around the island to pull out a stool. She smiled at Mrs. Dincht's whistled warning and caught the clean dish towel thrown at her. She spread it over the top of the stool before sitting down.
"And you'll bear them well," she said. "You're my child with manners. All the others act like they were raised in a barn." Rinoa didn't miss her tossing a fond look across the kitchen where Zell was now making tiny balls of dough.
"I'm tired of them," she said, as a plate was placed in front of her, vegetables and chicken steaming. "They're just boring now."
"You mind your bites," Mrs. Dincht warned. "Nothing on that dress, although there's not much there to begin with." She raised an eyebrow that Rinoa only ignored as she raised the fork she was handed.
"Gosh, I don't know what you mean." Rinoa finally smiled as Mrs. Dincht laughed. A little bit happier after seeing cheerful people, she dug into her dinner.
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Two hours later, her stomach was roiling, her feet already hurt, and she was fast realizing that she had been stood up. It was a small consolation that at least her father was put out by it.
Robert Caraway looked fierce when angry; Rinoa never saw his temper aimed at her, but at everyone else. His choice now was the president of Esthar, who was standing in his suit with his long hair pulled back, smiling at both of them.
"He did promise to come," Laguna Loire said again. Rinoa could only wince at him as she felt her father tense beside her.
"Promising to come and not being here for the introduction are very different things, I'm sure you realize," Caraway said. "We were supposed to make our entrance five minutes ago; our guests are becoming impatient."
"Lot of ceremony, don't you think?" Laguna tugged on his tie. "Squall isn't one to care for making a scene. He's a very quiet kid. Private," he added.
"Regardless—"
"It's okay," Rinoa said. Standing in the dim hallway was boring and she didn't want to argue the point anymore. Rinoa had been charmed by Laguna, who was friendly with no regard for Galbadia customs at all. She hadn't decided if that was because he was clueless or if he just didn't care. Whatever the case, he was easygoing. His son hadn't been with him. Laguna had shared that he had allowed Squall to explore the city with the promise he would be present at the Caraway gala. Rinoa was almost jealous; skipping out would've been amazing. Apparently they did do things differently in Esthar. She wanted to be offended, but it was hard since the Esthar heir had simply done what she would only ever dream about.
"Rinoa, it would be inappropriate for you to go unescorted." Caraway looked exasperated with her, which was nothing new.
She smiled and stepped toward Laguna. "I won't. I'll be escorting our guest; you can go announce us." It was meant to burn. General Caraway didn't make announcements for others, he paid people to announce him. But Rinoa knew the rules just as well as he did, and knew he wouldn't break them—not tonight.
He gave her a searching look as Rinoa took Laguna's arm as he turned toward the entrance to the large, winding double staircase that graced led into the ballroom. Laguna squeezed her arm to his chest as Caraway's voice rang out over the murmur of guests.
"I am sorry Squall chose tonight to be a rebel," Laguna said. "He doesn't usually act out. Or do much at all, really."
"It sounds like your son is a stranger." Rinoa thought it was odd how Laguna referred to Squall, like he had just met him yesterday. Then again, no one knew anything about Esthar customs, so she didn't know why she was presuming so much. "Excuse me; I spoke out of turn."
"No, no," he said. He laughed. "You have a fair point," he said. "Perhaps you'll learn more, depending on if you forgive Squall for being a moron and get to know him."
Rinoa didn't have a chance to answer as they stepped across the threshold onto the landing. The crowd below clapped, a chorus of polite noise as she and Laguna smiled. Rinoa was almost shocked when Laguna waved, but then remembered he would be given leeway for any odd or common behavior—she couldn't gawk at him unless she wanted it to be splashed across headlines and all his mistakes examined. It felt like an eternity before they turned and headed down one of the staircases as Caraway took the other. Rinoa felt his eyes on her even as they walked.
"If it's not so rude to say it," Laguna started, "I might guess you and your father have an interesting relationship, too."
"That's one way to describe it," Rinoa said. She didn't want to talk about her father and Laguna seemed to take the hint as they stepped down the curving staircase toward the throng of people. Even though the crowd parted as they reached the floor, it didn't keep Rinoa from feeling any less fenced in as she led Laguna toward the center of the room for the opening dance.
"What a group," Laguna said under his breath as he cupped Rinoa's hands in his. He grinned down at her. "Been awhile since I stepped to this dance."
Rinoa was surprised as the music rose and they began to sway, Laguna leading effortlessly. "How do you know these dances?"
"Hasn't your father told you?" Laguna asked. He wrinkled his nose, which made him look funny, like a little kid. "Probably not, boring stuff. My life didn't get exciting until I left on my trip around the world for Timber Maniacs. I used to be a citizen here in Galbadia."
"Really?" She was suddenly interested. "How does a Galbadian citizen become the president of Esthar?"
Laguna laughed. "I ask myself that everyday. Long story; maybe I'll tell you sometime and let you read my articles." They spun in time with the music as the appropriate amount of time passed and other dancers moved onto the floor around them. "I imagine you have fans waiting in the crowd," he said. "Feel free to abandon me. I swore I smelled the best food on the way in."
Rinoa smiled. "The tables are toward the back; would you like me to show you?"
He bowed his head. "I'd be honored."
It was easy to dance to the edge of the crowd and simply step into the accepted gap between spectators and dancers. It made Rinoa feel better to be out of the throng and she thought a glass of water might not be bad, either. Laguna smiled at everyone staring at them as they walked; it was like he enjoyed the attention. And maybe he did, Rinoa thought—who was she to judge, just because she no longer did?
"I feel like I'm in a different time these days," Laguna said, almost like he didn't expect a reply. "Gotten used to Esthar all these years, really brings home the difference when you come back to Galbadia." His voice was somehow sad when he laughed. "But I don't guess that happens much."
Rinoa didn't have a comment for that, and as they stepped toward the tables spread with food, Caraway stepped into place beside them.
"Ah, President Loire, there you are," he said. "Getting a bite to eat?"
Laguna nodded. "Rinoa was just showing me where everything was."
"I believe I'll be going to get a drink of water," she said, not meeting her father's eyes. "Please excuse me." She ducked away quickly; it was the last thing she wanted, to be pulled into the rounds of the guests so early in the evening. Caraway would be busy with Laguna, so she was hopeful this time she'd be able to get out of it completely. They were all so boring.
She headed toward the middle of the first serving table where beverages were kept, wincing as her shoes rubbed at her feet. Water was pouring from the elaborate fountain they had created as a centerpiece. Before she could even ask, the server in charge of drinks was dipping from it and handing her a glass. He shot her a shy smile, which Rinoa returned. Nida was another child of the people Caraway employed, although Rinoa didn't know him well—he was friends with Zell.
"You look very pretty, Miss Caraway," Nida said, taking the glass back as Rinoa finished.
Rinoa made a face at him. "Rinoa is fine, I promise." Nida went to speak again, but closed his mouth as he looked over his shoulder.
Rinoa turned, and smiled. "Quistis."
Quistis was beautiful as always, dressed in a long, pale blue gown, hair loosed from its normal position. "I wondered what Mrs. Dincht meant when she said you were wearing a napkin."
Rinoa laughed. "She still said I was pretty before she commented on the length. She liked it." She shot a smile back at Nida before walking a bit away from the tables with Quistis. "Have you been here long?" She didn't want to bring up any depressing news; she knew Quistis would bring it up when she was ready.
"I've been here long enough to hit on a man, be utterly dismissed and see your entrance." Quistis sipped from the glass in her head. "He was very pretty, but rather prickly." She raised an eyebrow. "I noticed that your father announced you. That was new."
Rinoa winced. "The heir from Esthar didn't come," she said. "Caraway was livid and practically ripped into Laguna. Of course," she added, "after sending all the attendants scurrying away so he could be a jerk without it causing gossip among the servants. So when it came to it, it was up to him."
"He didn't come?" Quistis stared. "How can he not have? Surely his father—"
"He didn't know where his son was, either."
"I don't envy him when the general finally does meet him."
"I don't care he didn't show," Rinoa said, and it was the truth. "Honestly, I wish I had the guts to skip out. I hate everyone staring at me, waiting for me to make a mistake." She didn't want to talk about it; she was sure before the night was over the man would be found and there would be massive amounts of tension when it happened. She turned her attention toward her friend's previous statement. "Did you say you flirted with someone?"
Quistis gave her a guilty smile. "He was so handsome and just standing there watching the crowd, all alone. He had probably given five women the same treatment he gave me." She smiled as Rinoa wiggled her eyebrows. "Stop it. I simply tried to make small talk; he was clearly uninterested."
"Where is this beautiful stranger?" Rinoa asked, interested to see who it was.
Quistis sighed and rolled her eyes, directing Rinoa's gaze to the wall. The crowd was thick; she strained her neck to see over them. "He's got lovely hair. I was almost rude enough to ask him what type of conditioner he used after he brushed me off." Quistis chuckled. "He's wearing a black bowtie, as well, instead of a tie. That will catch your eye."
It did that; Rinoa stared as she found him, standing between two large twin tapestries hung for the festival season, blue and white patterns stark against the cream of the wall. Rinoa didn't blame Quistis for giving it a shot; he was gorgeous. "Good taste, as always," she said, mindful of the people milling around them, knowing that ears as well as eyes were open.
"A mild understatement, but I'll forgive considering the location." Quistis hid a grin behind her raised glass as Rinoa watched the man in flashes between the guests.
"Did you call him prickly?" Rinoa couldn't see that well, but his face didn't look happy at all. She thought she would've recognized him; it's not as if she hadn't been paraded through over a dozen parties this season. Usually even if she couldn't recall names, faces stuck with her. "He looks annoyed."
"I did, and he is. Quiet about it; not rude," Quistis said. She pursed her lips. "Rinoa, you have the look."
Rinoa only kept watching the stranger, even as she smiled. "I don't know what you mean." She was used to politicians dodging and blowing people off. She wondered if this man was as good at it as they were. She knew he wasn't one. She would have recognized him from the boring dinners she had been made to attend. "He's pretty cute."
"He just wants to be left alone," Quistis said. "I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate having the Deling Darling pulling every eye in the room to him."
"That name." Rinoa wanted to gag at it. "You and Selphie will never let it die, will you?" The nickname had been given to her by one of the most popular tabloids in the city, Girls Next Door. Rinoa still didn't know how they had gotten photos of her trip to the beach with her friends in the summer. The scandal—of all things—over her in a two piece suit had been loud and had been the talk of every social circle for weeks.
"Not ever," Quistis said. "Selphie's suit was a bit more provocative and she got no limelight at all." Quistis winked at her. "The trouble with being friends with a princess."
Rinoa let the teasing go and looked at the man again as he sat his empty glass on a serving tray. Rinoa was delighted to see who the server was and smiled when she and Selphie made eye contact, motioning her over.
"Hey, Selphie, what do you think of that guy?" Rinoa asked when Selphie stepped near them.
"What guy?" Selphie looked hot as she stopped, but her serving uniform was neat and she hefted the tray with the thin stemmed glasses as if it was a part of her arm.
"The one you just took a glass from," Rinoa said, being careful not to be too obvious about where she was looking. "He's pretty cute."
Selphie looked back and laughed. "You're right." She shot a look between Rinoa and Quistis before sighing. "Rinoa, are you sure it's a good idea—"
"Sure," she said, wondering if the guy could only blow off women that didn't know how to play politicians. "I mean, what's Caraway going to do, ground me?" It was a silly threat; as if she wasn't as close to the ground as she could get, she thought. So much for being upper class.
"Well, remember the press," Quistis said. When Selphie shot her a look, she shrugged. "Better to remind her than try to talk her out of what she's determined to do, right?"
Selphie looked worried, but she still laughed as Rinoa took a few steps away from her friends. "Be polite!"
"I'm always polite." Rinoa stuck her tongue out at them quickly and then weaved through the people standing in between her and the man with the brooding face. People let her pass once they recognized her; she tried to look focused so she wouldn't be stopped. That was the last thing she wanted. The crowd thinned as she came closer. No one really wanted to be seen as a wallflower at one of Caraway's gatherings—it was considered rude. But wallflower was written all over this man, Rinoa noticed as she grew closer.
She stopped in front of him, smiling her most charming smile, and was pleased when he looked right at her. She waited, but he didn't say anything—she wondered if Quistis had gotten the cold shoulder just like this.
She leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. "You know, you are the cutest guy I've seen tonight."
He only stared blankly at her.
She wanted to frown, but kept her smile in place. "I could use a dance partner."
He shifted his weight, leg to leg, and finally spoke. "...I can't dance."
Rinoa crossed her hands behind her back. "Everyone who comes to the winter festival balls can dance. Why else would they come?" He didn't answer so she stepped a little closer. Too close would start a murmur, and Rinoa knew murmurs reached her father all too easily. She didn't want to be watched all night. It meant spending time with nothing but boring politicians. "Let me guess. You only dance with girls you like."
He didn't react, just looked at her with no expression. Quistis hadn't been lying.
"I know!" Rinoa stuck her finger in his face and twirled, enjoying seeing surprise cross his face. "You're going to like me, you're going to like me, you're absolutely going to like me..." She stopped and looked at him carefully. "Did it work?"
She was rewarded with a small smile, and she grinned back, pleased.
"There you are!"
Rinoa turned at Laguna's voice, Esthar accent still very noticeable to her ears. He approached quickly, smiling. Beside him, her father glowered. Only those who knew him would see the anger there, barely checked.
"I've been here," the man beside her said, and Rinoa felt her face flush.
"You were supposed to meet me for our grand entrance and introduction to the guests," Laguna said. He smiled down at Rinoa even as she felt her stomach jumping. "What are the odds of this, General Caraway? Our children finding each other all on their own—must be Fate."
Caraway nodded. "It seems that way."
"Well, Squall, I'd introduce you, but it seems you've done a great job on your own." Laguna patted Squall on the arm—Rinoa watched him flinch and suddenly wished the floor would open and swallow her up.
Squall looked at her then, and Rinoa didn't miss the coolness in his gaze. Rinoa knew the strain of being polite when it was the last thing she wanted to do; it was written all over Squall as he held out his hand and said, "Squall Le—Loire; pleased to meet you."
Charting the Motions of the Stars
To Be Continued