The chandeliers glowed brighter as the night deepened, the hall alive with music and the sweep of gowns. Tristan had already set down his violin, yet the memory of his playing lingered like a thread through the crowd.
On the dance floor, Therese moved in graceful steps beside Prince Dorian. Her pale green gown swirled with each turn. It was simple compared to the jeweled silks around her, yet the prince's eyes never left her.
"You dance well," he said with an easy smile.
Therese returned the smile, though faintly. "So do you, Your Highness. Though I imagine you've had far more practice."
Dorian chuckled. "Practice, yes. But skill requires a partner. Tonight, I seem to have found one."
She tilted her head. "Perhaps. Though tomorrow, I'll be back at the manor checking chicken counts and root stores. Hardly the life of a court lady."
That startled a genuine laugh from him this time. "Most women here dream of escaping to a palace. You speak of leaving one to return to hens."
