A/N: Right, the plan is some Raoul/Cythera now, next chapter some more Briar. Chapter after, something a little different. However, I won't be posting another chapter until Monday-I'm going up to the country. Sorry. :( Oh, and remember: TIME IS WARPED IN THIS STORY. DO NOT EXPECT TIME-RELATED ISSUES TO MAKE SENSE.

Cythera watched, amused, as Sandry and Alanna were led on to the dance floor, and Tris and Daja escaped the hall. Typical. By the mother, though, it looked like Alanna had learned something at the convent after all… Of course, she'd never be a natural like Sandry, but she looked beautiful anyway. She was busy analysing the look Jon was giving the noble from Emelan when she was floored by the giant figure of Raoul walking over to her, the smile on his face guaranteed to charm.

She smiled, inclining her head graciously at the young Knight. He grinned, and made a great show of kissing her hand, making them both laugh. Cythera grinned. Trust Raoul to bring a smile to anybody's face. His eyes dancing at her mirth, he bowed deeply, still putting up a show of being an affected courtier, and extended a callused hand.

"Will you honour my humble hand with yours in a dance, O Queen of my heart?"

Cythera batted her eyelashes and curtsied. "How can I refuse so noble a knight? Lead on, good saviour!"

They entered the floor together, still bantering.

"Good saviour? What did I save you from, then?"

"Ah, from the fearful dragon of monotonous boredom!"

"What, that old thing? Hah, it flees from my banner, the great fiend!"

Nobody noticed that they did not stop dancing when the song ended.

Sandry was much amused. Jon was whirling her around, clearly an expert, and she was keeping pace to perfection, spinning and turning and moving and twirling. It was something to see, truly; both the partners had been trained all their lives for just this eventuality. They were good at it. In fact, they were the centre of attention.

Despite the complexity of their dance, they were managing to keep up a conversation. Well, Jon was doing most of the talking.

"So you and your friends live at a temple? Are you dedicates, or novices?" He hoped not. Most Dedicates couldn't marry. Sandry tried to explain.

"Winding Circle isn't just a temple, it's a school. My friends and I are mages, ambient mages. We were brought there when we were ten, and we've been there ever since."

"Ambient mages?" Mithros, he must sound stupid. He could have sworn somebody had mentioned them to him once…

Sandry sighed patiently. "Magic that works through things or processes. I'm a thread mage…"