Chapter Three - Save the Last Dance

Gary had been delighted by the recent progression of his relationship with Cythera to a reasonably pleasant - albeit somewhat short - conversation. He had been encouraged to the point that he had now resolved to seek her out that night, maybe even to ask her for a dance.

"You look rather determined," Raoul commented, taking a sip from his drink.

Gary nodded, feeling rather nauseated. "I'm going to get my goddess tonight."

"Setting your sights a little high, aren't you?" Alex asked, coming to stand next to the two knights. "I've had a much more mortal woman asking after you."

Gary's eyes instantly flew to Cythera. "Who?" he croaked, failing entirely in his attempt to sound nonchalant.

"Lady Roxanne of Elden," replied Alex, a thin smile curling over his lips.

Gary blinked rather rapidly at the young man, and then he buried his face in his hands. "It's a sign. I'm doomed," he informed his companions unhappily. "That she-demon will make sure I never get Cythera."

It was perhaps lucky for Gary (or, rather, for the other two) that he didn't see the expressions which passed over his friends' faces. When he resurfaced, their eyes were busy elsewhere and their faces were carefully blank.

"At least she's not at the ball tonight," Alex said, patting Gary on the shoulder. "Anyway, have a nice night." With that, he moved away to talk to Delia of Eldorne.

Gary stared at Alex's back, brow furrowed. "What do you think the Graveyard Hag's assistant wanted with me?"

"Oh, that's probably just Alex messing things up. Don't worry about Roxanne." Raoul shuddered slightly at the memory of her, and took a large gulp of wine.

Gary nodded, watching as Alex disengaged himself from Delia and went to talk to Cythera. "Our Tirragen's becoming quite the court flirt, wouldn't you say?"

"Quite the court something," Raoul muttered, draining his goblet. "Where's Alan got to?"

Gary glanced around the room, paying particular attention to the window seats. Satisfied that Raoul's vision wasn't failing him, he waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, somewhere with his new woman. He won't introduce us to her."

Raoul choked. "What?"

"Oh, yes, he's been a bit of a late starter, but Alan seems to be progressing beautifully in the world of women. Jon's in his room, avoiding a certain country in his world of women." Gary indicated Delia with his head. "Otherwise she sticks to him. Jon says he's known leeches that could be disengaged more easily, though I didn't care to ask how he'd come to know them." He exhaled, fixing his eyes on Cythera. "Anyway, sorry to abandon you, Raoul, but I've spent enough time chatting. I'll lose my nerve otherwise. Wish me luck."

"Luck," Raoul said obediently. "And play nice - don't mention Roxanne. Or pretend you can't remember who Roxanne is."

"I'm always nice," returned Gary over his shoulder, but seriously considering the other bit of advice.

When he reached Cythera, however, he found being nice wasn't the problem. At first, catching her on her own had been the problem. After he had managed that, and he had also managed to stop tripping over his own tongue, he asked her to dance.

"Oh! I, well, I would love to, but Sir Alexander of Tirragen has claimed the next three dances, and Sir Oliver of Darroch always has the last dance. It's an unspoken tradition, you see."

Cursing Alex, but reassured by the fact that she had sounded genuinely apologetic, he first sought out Lady Alayne, formerly of Darroch, and entreated her to plead to her brother on his behalf. An unspoken tradition was an easy thing to break. He then found Lady Gwynnen and, after offering himself for dancing tomorrow, offered Douglass, Raoul and Jon before agreeing that he would persuade Alan to dance with her tomorrow in exchange for her occupying Oliver for the last dance. He didn't entirely understand her choice of the short, bad-tempered Alan who couldn't tell one dance from another, but figured it probably had to do with attracting attention. Lady Gwynnen liked to attract attention.

So, for the final dance, Cythera found herself presented with Gary. He didn't know what he had expected her to make of his preparations, but he hadn't expected her to avert her eyes and mutter, "This is very kind of you, Sir Gareth, and be assured that I am flattered, but I regret that I am unable to dance with you."

He visibly deflated, looking crestfallen. "May I enquire as to why?"

She looked surprised that he had to ask. "Be - because of Roxanne, because of what you did to her."

Gary closed his eyes and bit his lip. "That was a mistake, my lady. I assure you, I would never toy with somebody that way now."

Cythera nodded in acceptance of his repentance. "So, you understand why I have to refuse your offer."

"No," he said bluntly, fighting the urge to kneel at her feet and beg for forgiveness. "I'm afraid I don't."

Cythera glanced around, looking unnerved at the amount of spectators their conversation had attracted. "I think I need some air. Would you care to join me outside, Sir Gareth?"

Gary followed, feeling bewildered, feeling hatred for Roxanne, but rejoicing in the fact that finally, Cythera was talking to him. He couldn't help but marvel at the differences between the sisters. Cythera didn't toss her head proudly. She had not raised her voice when she had realised people were watching, although slipping outside was sure to give rise to more speculation.

He sat down on the bench, awaiting her next words.

"My sister warned me this might happen," Cythera began. She did not sit, instead stood perfectly still, facing away from him. Instinct told Gary to be silent, even as disquiet fired up inside him. Also, he was not entirely sure he could talk; being alone with Cythera was making him tremble. "She said there was a risk you might transfer your affections for her to me. I am not my sister, Sir Gareth, nor do I pretend to be."

He frowned, not having expected this attack. It distracted him from his dry throat and the distance between him and Cythera. "I realise that, my lady. I also - please be assured that I have and have had no affections for your sister that could possibly be transferred to you."

She turned to face him at that, searching his eyes. He didn't know what she wanted to find there, and swallowed, hard. She was almost close enough to kiss. "You mean to say that your affections for Roxanne run too deep to be affixed to a person you barely know, save by association?"

"I mean to say, my lady, that it would not be possibly to transfer an emotion that did not and does not exist," Gary replied gently.

Disbelief flickered in Cythera's eyes. "You held no love for a lady you proposed to?"

"Proposed to?" Gary echoed. "I did no such thing!"

Cythera faltered, pushing her hair back from her face and looking away from him again, as though she couldn't bear to meet his eyes. He bit his lip and waited.

"Then you deny any relationship with my sister?"

Now, it was Gary's turn to falter. "Not exactly."

It seemed as though they remained there for an age, both digesting what they had heard and neither liking it. In the end, it was Cythera who moved first. She curtsied, but did not bother to break the silence to bid him a good night, and Gary was left alone. He was reaching a decision that he did not like, but appeared to be unavoidable.

It was time to talk to Roxanne.