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If I’d had more time to think, I would have been a nervous wreck. I’d already been nervous about dancing with Chevalier for the first time in front of all these people, and I hadn’t known there was any special meaning to the first dance. The visiting royalty hadn’t known either, if Arianna’s reaction was anything to go by. It was a good thing everybody else held their tongues, because if I’d known ahead of time, I’m not sure that I could have held my ground after Nokto spun me to face the ballroom doors. Or even made it to the ballroom at all. Maybe I would have just hidden in my room, too overwhelmed at the prospect of a very public proposal from the king when I wasn’t even comfortable being a princess yet.
But I hadn’t known ahead of time, and I didn’t have time to think about it now, either. The guards were already opening the doors and announcing Chevalier’s arrival: “King Chevalier Michel.”
The crowd fell silent. Only the strains of the orchestra continued, barely audible over my heart, hammering in my chest. I’d heard his title and full name before, more often than I’d heard mine, but hearing it now, seeing him step into the room in his midnight blue and black ceremonial clothing that contrasted so sharply with his fair features, knowing what was about to happen, sent the butterflies into a flurry in my stomach. He wasn’t wearing the crown anymore. His face was smooth, impassive, his stride the same long, purposeful steps as always, and his pale blue eyes, a few shades lighter than the sky blue crystals mounted on each shoulder of his coat, were on me.
It wouldn’t have mattered if I’d had more time to think. Nothing else mattered when he was looking at me and only me. He’d said that he wanted me by his side, and all he asked was for me to hold my head up. I could do that.
I could do better than that.
I stepped toward him and took his arm, and he led me to the center of the room, slowing his steps as he always did when we walked together. The cloth of his midnight blue coat was coarse and heavy under my hand, not at all like the soft, light fabric he normally wore. I wanted to let my fingers run across it, test how it felt when I curled my fingers into it, but now was not the time for that. Now was the time to smile, keep my eyes on Chevalier, and ignore the people clearing a path for us to reach the dark brown outline of the rose in the center of the floor.
That was easy enough. I didn’t want to look at anybody except him.
We stopped over the rose and turned toward each other. He took my right hand in his left and settled his right hand on my waist, and I placed my left hand on his shoulder, locking eyes with him as he led me in the dance. It felt so natural. As natural and easy as dancing with Nokto - maybe more so. I wondered briefly if he’d been practicing, or if he’d just read a book about dancing. It didn’t matter either way. The warmth in his eyes had melted the icy facade he’d maintained from the moment he walked into the ballroom until the moment his hand took mine, and the smile playing across his lips was for me alone.
“When were you going to tell me?” I asked, my flushed cheeks hurting from how widely I was smiling.
“After this,” he replied.
“You mean after I unknowingly accepted your proposal in front of hundreds of witnesses?”
He just smiled, and I couldn’t find it in my heart to be mad at him. It wasn’t as if I’d ever say no. We’d never discussed marriage, but I’d known it was coming, and the answer was always going to be yes.
I felt like I was flying.
The song ended too soon, along with the illusion that we were in our own little world as the open space surrounding us filled with more pairs of dancers. Chevalier tugged at my hand, leading me off the dance floor and away from the crowd, and I followed with a giddy excitement. I didn’t even care when he pulled me into a kiss the moment we stepped out onto an empty balcony.
“I should be mad at you,” I said breathlessly.
“But you’re not,” he said with a smug smirk.
The coarse fabric of his sleeves offered my fingers a pleasant resistance when I curled them into it. Judging by the way he was rubbing my waist, he liked the feel of the silk I was wearing, too.
“No, I’m not,” I admitted, leaning in for his next kiss.
The sun was only now beginning its descent below the horizon. Shades of purple, pink, orange, and red painted the sky and cast a golden glow on the glass doors that weren’t giving us any privacy. Not that I cared. When he stopped after one kiss and stepped back, I had to force myself to release the fabric of his sleeves from my grasp.
“You can still say no,” he said, reaching into his coat and producing a small box.
I clutched the railing with one hand and put the other over my mouth, a wave of lightheadedness washing over me. He was going to propose to me again. In private, with a ring. I might still faint before this day was over.
“Will you marry me, Ivetta?” he asked softly, opening the box.
I was nodding before I even saw the ring, blinking furiously to stop the tears that threatened to spill out and ruin my makeup. It could have been a brass circle for all I cared.
“I need your hand, Ivetta,” he prompted, his smile wider than I’d ever seen it.
I nodded again and swallowed the lump in my throat. My left hand was trembling as I dropped it from my mouth and held it out to him, staring at the ring. The band was solid gold, with a large central diamond surrounded by smaller garnets, and I could barely hear my voice over the clamoring of my heart.
“I-it should fit over the glove,” I said, struggling to keep my voice from shaking.
“It belongs on your finger, not your glove,” he replied, pulling the ring back and reaching for my glove. I yanked my hand back, glancing nervously at the glass doors for the first time.
“But - I don’t want people to see…”
“What about me?” he asked, stepping closer and softening his voice. I looked up at him again and bit my lip. He knew about the scars, and he was going to see them eventually, but I was dreading the moment I had to show them to him.
“Later?” I pleaded.
He sighed and nodded, removing the ring from its plush red cushion in the little box. I held my hand out again, and he slid the ring over my gloved finger. It was a snug fit, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Not at all. It felt perfect. So perfect that the butterflies in my stomach paired up to dance with the music drifting from the ballroom, and I had to blink hard to fight the tears welling up in my eyes.
“I love you, Ivetta,” he murmured, tilting my chin up for a soft and sweet kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pouring the emotion bursting from my heart into kissing him back. He smiled against my lips, his fine hair tickling my face as his arm circled my waist to pull me closer. I giggled in the interval when we took a breath.
“I love you, too, but you have lipstick on your face,” I said, removing one hand from the back of his neck to wipe the corner of his mouth.
“So do you,” he said, brushing a light finger across my cheek to catch the tears that slipped out. “It’s smeared.”
“Oh, I’ve been trying not to cry,” I said, wiping my eyes carefully. “This is going to ruin my makeup.”
He took my wrist gently and pulled it away from my face, kissing me again before I could say anything else. My fingers flexed and relaxed in midair, and he broke the kiss, glancing over at my hand in amusement.
“You really like holding onto me,” he noted.
“Well, it’s only fair, since you won’t let me go,” I replied, looking pointedly at his arm around my waist.
He chuckled and released my wrist. “You realize people can see us,” he said, running his hand through my hair to settle on the small of my back.
“Mm hm,” I hummed, brushing his hair back from his face. “But I’ve spent all afternoon saying and doing the right things so they’ll like me, and I’ll have to do it all over again when we go back inside, so, right now, I really don’t care what they think. Why aren’t you wearing your crown?”
“Aside from the coronation parade, it doesn’t leave the throne room,” he replied, brushing his nose against mine. “Don’t tell me you want to play with that the way you’re playing with this coat?”
I shrugged, smiling shyly as I traced the sky-blue gem on his right shoulder with one finger. His lips pressed into mine for a kiss that was all too brief.
“After we leave the ball, you can play with it as much as you like,” he said, removing one hand from my waist to reach into his coat for a handkerchief. “An hour more, two at the most. Hold still.”
“I wish I had a mirror,” I said when he finished wiping the smeared lipstick from my face, taking the handkerchief so I could do the same for him. “You wouldn’t take me back in there if I looked bad, would you?”
“I couldn’t show you off if I did.”
I swatted his shoulder playfully with the lipstick-stained handkerchief. “That reminds me. Leon, Jin, and Clavis are in trouble.”
“Not Nokto?” he asked, his crystal blue eyes sparkling.
“Nokto deserves a medal.” I handed him the handkerchief and took his arm. “Or his favorite dessert. Do you know what that is?”
“Échaudés,” he said, pocketing the handkerchief.
“Échaudés,” I repeated thoughtfully. “I’ll have to ask Yves how to make those.” I took a deep breath, let it out, and smiled up at him. “Shall we?”
The hour, or however long it was, flew by. We encountered our first congratulations the moment we stepped into the ballroom, and when we made our escape, they were still coming. The nobility who had seemed subdued and cautious in Chevalier’s absence were even more so in his presence, and the royalty who had tested me at every turn were now on their best behavior. It was almost nauseating how ingratiating some people were. But I was the conversationalist, not Chevalier, so although people approached him initially, they ended up talking to me. That amused me, especially knowing a fair amount of the smiles and well wishes I received were fake.
I burst into giggles as soon as we stepped into the gardens.
“You had too much champagne,” Chevalier noted, a smile in his voice as he led me down the dark cobblestone paths.
“I only had one glass,” I replied, hugging his arm with both of mine and smiling up at him. “But that last duke’s face was so funny. He looked like he’d swallowed a lemon.” I sighed and rested my cheek against his arm. The fabric of his coat was a little scratchy. “This has been much better than my first ball.”
“Good.”
Tendrils of music drifted to us on the evening breeze, soft, broken notes that could have come from the roses themselves instead of the ballroom fading into the distance behind us. The sky was a field of stars surrounding the bright full moon. There was no moon the night of the goodwill gala ball. I remembered that clearly. And I remembered how exhausted I felt when Licht brought me out here to find Chevalier, how the sight of his white cloak billowing up ahead filled me with relief.
“I wanted to run into your arms when I saw you,” I said quietly. “Just to feel safe.”
“I wanted to scoop you up and take you away from here,” he replied, his voice just as soft as mine.
“Where to?” I asked, looking up at him curiously.
“It was a general feeling. I had no destination in mind.”
I faced forward again. “Well, if you want to take me to that bench by the pond again, I promise I won’t run away this time.”
“Or cry?”
“That, I can’t promise,” I said, squeezing his arm. “But they’ll be happy tears this time.”
The silence that fell between us was comfortable. I closed my eyes, nestling against his arm and trusting my feet to follow him, the same way I did that night, so the moment of his abrupt stop could come as a surprise again. Cobblestone turned to grass beneath my feet. He sat down suddenly, and I opened my eyes as he pulled me down with him, wrapping my arms around his neck and returning his kiss.
“I was going to leave,” I whispered when our lips parted. “After Mother died. I was going to run away so I couldn’t cause you any more trouble.”
He held me on his lap with one arm around my waist, his hand resting lightly on the outside of my hip, his other hand cupping my face and stroking my cheek with his thumb. “I know,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine. “And I was going to find you."
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