This is part three in a series of Valentine's Day ficlets I'm writing for Tumblr.
The people of Broome danced wildly under the moonlight, celebrating the surprise visit from their beloved king and his famous friends, even three days after they had arrived. Torches circled the field, and tables were laid with drinks and small morsels of food that could be spared. Musicians threaded through the crowd, inciting cheers from whoever they passed. Barda stood away from the noise and the revellers, content to sip his drink and observe the happy chaos.
Lindal emerged from the whirling crowd and raised her brows when she saw him. The painted swirls on her head looked like flames in the light of the torches.
"So, this is where you have been hiding," she grinned broadly. "Are you too good to dance, old bear? It would seem your young friends are not."
Barda followed Lindal's gaze. Lief and Jasmine were just visible through a veil of dancers, doubled over with laughter as a group of other youths eagerly tried to teach them the proper steps. He could not help but smile fondly: it was far too rare that they were given a chance to act their age.
"Not at all," he said dryly. "I am waiting to see which of your people lands the first blow. This looks more like a brawl than a party."
Lindal chuckled. "Are you getting to old for a fight?"
He snorted. "Certainly not."
She laughed louder, and gripped his shoulder with a strong hand. There was no hesitance or uncertainty in her gesture— he could not imagine that she had ever experienced those feelings in her life.
"Good." Her hand slid lower and came to rest on his wrist. She squeezed it tight and pulled him into the mad crowd. "Now prove it."