Music flooded the great hall of Maric's palace where dancers spun and strutted about the wide stone dance floor. The tables of the hall were pushed up next to the walls and filled to bursting with desserts and other light refreshments suitable for the evening's festivities. It was the final night Wintersend and the King's annual gathering of the nobles. Tournament winners were congratulated formally by the king at a ball in their honor.
Elissa drifted among the party goers. She occasionally stopped to exchange pleasantries, and even accepted a few dances with polite suiters. It was all a grand show but she was more than ready to be done with the painfully formal gatherings of the last fortnight. She was ready to go home to Highever where she could wear her comfortable leather armor instead of absurdly impractical gowns.
Tonight she wore a full skirted confection of Orlesian silk in Highever blue trimmed with silver. Her father had commissioned it during his last visit to Val Royeaux and she was fairly sure he hadn't paid as much attention to the style of dress as he probably should have. He'd blanched and choked on his wine when she'd descended the stairs of their capital estate. The skirts were long and full, accentuating her narrow waist and soft curves. The fabric of the arms gripped her snuggly from wrist to capped sleeves at the shoulder, from which the bodice plunged scandalously low.
It was also likely the reason the attentions paid to Elissa by the gentlemen nobles redoubled to absurd levels. Elissa felt a throbbing headache start at the base of her skull as she was passed from one noble son to the next. It wasn't even just the youths, either. Several older gentlemen slid in to claim a few dances with her, making her feel more and more like a brood mare being put through her paces at an auction.
When she was nearly at her limit and readying to make an excuse to escape the fawning another request for a dance startled her speechless.
"May I have this dance, my lady?" King Maric extended his hand out to Elissa, and though he didn't bow low over his hand like all her other partners did, he did incline his head appreciatively as his gaze swept across her body.
Habit and drilled manners kept her from staring like a star struck fool. She released the feather light grip she held on her already forgotten partner and slipped her long fingers into Maric's outstretched hand. He wasted no time in sweeping her out onto the floor. Elissa didn't even notice the sputtering indignation of the noble she abandoned.
Maric was an excellent dancer and Elissa found herself smiling brightly when his hand slid around her waist and he raised their hands to lead the way into a lively waltz. She fervently vowed to thank her mother profusely for insisting Elissa master dance as well as her more martial interests.
"You've gathered quite the following this visit, Lady Cousland," Maric remarked conversationally as they whirled, "I can't recall you standing out quite so much in years past."
"Put that way, I have to wonder if you're referring to the flattery or infamy," she smiled and shifted her grip on his upper arm. His hand rested lightly on her waist and there was a comfortable gap between their chests.
"Perhaps a little of both. I understand Arl Urien's son was quite disappointed that your father politely declined his invitation," Maric raised an eyebrow and shifted their course around a knot of less coordinated dancers.
"He did? How very unfortunate," Elissa replied with wide eyed innocence, "But I cannot be anything other than a dutiful daughter. I shall suffer my father's strict governance of my affairs."
Maric's blue eyes danced with bright amusement, "An obedient child is truly a gift from the Maker."
"So I'm to understand," she murmured, demurring with feigned breathlessness before wrinkling her nose delicately, "Augh, I can't keep that up."
"You are a delight, my Lady," Maric laughed, spinning Elissa in a dramatic flourish as the music swelled and then drew her back close to his body. Her hip brushed against the front of his doublet as the tempo increased, urging the dancers into a more vigorous style. Many of the older dancers abandoned the floor, leaving room for the more energetic youth.
As an of age daughter to a high ranking noble in Maric's court, Elissa knew she could expect one short dance from the King. There were a great number of noble ladies deserving of his attention, so it surprised Elissa that he would sweep her smoothly from one dance into another. It must have shown on her face, because Maric winked conspiratorially and whirled them into the music. The dance was lively and challenging, meant to be a diversion for younger ball goers who found mingling and more traditional dances dull. A tingle of excitement rushed down Elissa's spine and she felt her earlier tension start to melt away. Dancing was very much like martial foot work, and that was something she understood in her soul.
Elissa relaxed into Maric's embrace and let the music sweep them away. The great hall whirled past her eyes in a dizzying display, but Maric's merry blue eyes held her locked in place. She found herself laughing in delight as they bounded into an impromptu competition with several other couples swinging around the dance floor. She could see the rush of a challenge snap in Maric's eyes as they darted around the other dancers. He glanced back at Elissa and she returned his look with a fierce grin.
The court musicians were veterans of many such battles and caught on immediately. They modulated the music tempo, going faster and slower to trip up the participants on the dance floor. Elissa let Maric lead her into a complex series of back and forth twists and dove along with him as they charged across the floor in a mock duel. They spun back together and Elissa realized the dance very much felt like the sword work she practiced for hours upon hours at home. It was as though they were two people controlling one sword gripped between their clasped hands. With that thinking in mind, Elissa settled into the swirling rhythm under Maric's appreciative gaze.
The other couples on the floor fell out a few at a time until she and Maric were alone and the center of attention of the entire ball. The musicians built the music into a grand crescendo and then ended with a final soaring flourish. As the last notes rang out, Maric dipped Elissa against his bent knee. They stayed like that for a brief moment, both gulping air, as thunderous applause erupted from the onlookers. Maric helped Elissa recover with gentle pressure from the hand he held against her back. He stepped back with her hand high held and leaned forward to brush his lips against the back of her knuckles. She curtsied deeply in return. He grinned and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm so he could lead her back to her bemused father, who stood with her mother at the edge of the floor.
"Thank you for the dance, Lady Cousland," Maric rumbled as he held her hand out to her father, who accepted it reverently.
"The honor was mine, Your Majesty," Elissa dipped into another small courtesy. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone with bright excitement. She couldn't hold herself from gushing, "It was absolutely wonderful."
"Yes, I quite agree," Maric's eyes danced merrily and he inclined his head to first her, then to her father and mother before disappearing back into the crowd. Elissa watched him go, and if her expression seemed a little dreamy, no one could blame her. She caught both her parents looking at her in mute amusement.
"What?" she demanded, looking back at them.
"We didn't say anything," Eleanor smiled and covered her mouth with a delicate hand to hide her mirth as Bryce coughed to cover his laughter.
