Alanna stood with her back against the wall, hands folded in the small of her back. The pose wasn't exactly regulation, but the party wasn't an official event, with the King and Queen both absent. Her eyes traced Lady Delia's promenade around the dance floor, her gloved hand coyly bringing Jon's attention back and back again to her stained lips.
Alanna leaned back, feeling the rough stone between her shoulder blades, focusing on the texture, pulling her mind away from the distraction.
It was time to practice. She hated parties, but as the only squire who avoided women, especially when they had low necklines, she knew talk would soon begin. Alanna didn't care what they said of her in that way, but without another focus for their gossip the talk would end up reflecting on Jon. Besides she didn't want to repeat the lesson she'd taught Malven. She'd mastered more difficult things with hard work, why not this? It was time time to learn flirting.
First she watched Gary. His height and broad shoulders made him easy to find in the small reception hall where the party was focused. He was grinning, propped against the far wall, gazing intently into the eyes of the smaller of two women who were giggling and pretending to hide it behind their fans. Gary had a story or a joke for any situation, and his sheer size made any stance he took vaguely intimidating. Alanna knew immediately that an attempt to emulate Gary's posture would end up simply looking silly on her short frame. And she didn't have any funny stories.
Glancing around for someone closer to her own size, she noticed Alex, seated on a cushioned bench, conversing with a dark-haired woman dressed in deep brocade. His head was inclined towards her, and hers to him. Things were looking well for him, when a second woman joined the pair, interrupting the conversation and sitting on Alex's other side. Ever at ease, Alex smoothly shifted his position to include her in the discussion. The first woman was clearly miffed though, and shortly stood up from the bench and stalked away towards the fireplace. The second woman's face showed a hint of a smile. A women's quarrel then. Goddess save her from getting involved in anything like that. Alex, uncharacteristically, did not pick up on these hints, and continued on with the discussion. Politics then. He could talk for hours about politics.
Raoul was dancing. He was even adding in his own embellishments, which the lady in pink matched exactly, move for move. Alanna envied his grace. When fighting or training, she knew exactly where every muscle in her body was, and could step, leap, lunge, turn, and flip, knowing exactly where she'd end up. The dance floor was the same, she knew each step, twirl, and bow, but something was missing. Her instructors would shake their heads. "Slow down, Squire Alan," they'd say, "the fastest dancer does not win." Or, "gently! Do not drag your partner about so." And they'd assign extra practice with one of the pages for a partner.
It seemed her friends were all relying on their natural strengths when it came to wooing women. Well, except Jon, but he was besotted and the sole Heir to the kingdom. He didn't need to flirt to get women, just to keep the ones he didn't want away.
What were her strengths? Pigheadedness. The sword. Her Gift. Insanity. None of those would help her win a lady. She'd just have to do what she always did: choose to succeed.
Taking a deep breath, Alanna closed her eyes briefly and pictured Lightning in her hand. The vision was steady and clear. She opened her eyes and took a step towards a woman in blue seated at the edge of the dance floor. The only place to start is at the beginning, she thought to herself.
"Would you care to dance?" She asked, formally extending one hand towards the lady, with the other behind her back, fingers crossed for luck.