Page 16 of The Exile's Curse

She lifted her chin. Let them stare a night or two. She had nothing to fear from their judgment of her clothes, at least. And she wasn't going to fear whatever else they might judge her for either.

Chapter 6

"It's a Kharenian Rill," Imogene said. "You know the steps. They haven't changed. Jean-Paul will partner you to begin."

Chloe stared out at the small dance floor, working hard not to bite her lip. She used to love to dance, and the music had been tugging at her all night. But so far she had refused every man who had approached, out of nerves. After the first four were turned away, no one else had tried.

Imogene was looking faintly exasperated. Chloe couldn't blame her. She needed to appear normal. Unconcerned. Hiding in the corner with a few familiar faces was cowardice.

She'd faced her fear with Madame Simsa. Reached for her power. It had felt shocking in both its strength and the excitement that had turned her veins to pure bubbling joy in its wake. The kind of joy she hadn't felt for years. Possibly not since Charl died.

Maybe more of it waited for her if she could face this fear, too.

She could manage ten minutes on a dance floor following patterns that had been ingrained in her muscles since she was a young girl.

"Go on," Imogene said. "You know you want to. I know what you look like when you want to dance, Chloe. It's all right. You are allowed to be happy. And it's perfectly safe here."

A servant appeared at Imogene's side. She leaned away, listening to whatever message he was conveying. Nothing good, judging by the frown that flashed briefly over her face as she turned back. "I have to attend to something." She waved a hand at Jean-Paul, who was talking to some friends a few feet away. He excused himself and came to join them.

"Chloe needs to dance," Imogene declared. "Take her onto the floor, my love. Make sure her toes don't get trodden on for the first few minutes of the set." She smiled up at Jean-Paul. "Apparently there's some crisis in the kitchen and Albeir needs to speak with me. I won't be long."

"We have our orders, it seems," Jean-Paul said, smiling down at Chloe. "Shall we?" He offered his arm and she took it, smiling back.

No one would be rude to her while she was dancing with him, at least. She knew how to read a crowd of courtiers, even if her skills were rusty, and she’d been watching the flow of the ball since she arrived. The du Laqs were respected. She'd known on an intellectual level what it meant that Jean-Paul held the title now, but that was different to seeing it. He'd always been imposing, not only due to his sheer size but his military bearing and being the heir. But now he wielded an invisible level of command. People melted out of their way as they walked to take their place on the dance floor, clearing the center of the space as though it was his rightful place. Once he reached it, there was a small rush as people moved to be in the first set with the duq.

"Does that get tiring?" Chloe asked as they took their positions, joined hands crossed, and waited for the musicians to begin.

"Mostly I don't notice," Jean-Paul said with a half shrug. "This isn't court proper, so there's little point to currying my favor." He gazed over the line of men and women forming beyond them. "Just ignore them. This is supposed to be fun, remember?" He grinned, the expression teasing. He was a mountain of a man, tall and dark-haired, with shoulders that strained the seams of his beautifully tailored jacket. When he smiled, he was also startlingly handsome. And he'd always been her friend. "Now, do I need to remind you of the opening measure?"

“I remember.”

Fun. A simple dance with a friend. Nothing to worry about.

The musicians began to play, the strings moving through a series of notes that she knew by heart.

"Good. Imogene will be displeased if you don't. So, Madame, let us dance."

She smiled and let him swing them into motion. Jean-Paul was a surprisingly good dancer for a man of his size and height, and she'd danced with him often enough that they moved easily together.

As she gave herself up to the dance, her smile turned to a grin. Her feet and hands remembered what to do, and she didn't have to think. When the time came to change partners, she reached out her hand automatically. To her relief, the man who took it was one of the Imperial mages, someone she'd known from the Academe.

A friendly face. She relaxed and let herself just dance. Through her second partner and a third and a fourth until she spun around, hand outstretched to reach for the hand of the fifth, only to realize it belonged to Lucien.

She almost stumbled to a halt, but his hand closed over hers as his other went to her waist and guided her back into motion before she knew what was happening.

"Madame de Montesse," he said. His face was fixed in a pleasant court smile, but from the tension in the shoulder under her hand, he was as startled as she.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, making sure her own smile didn't slip. This was exactly the kind of encounter she'd wanted to avoid. A feast for the gossips if she had a fight with the Marq of Castaigne in the middle of a du Laq ball. "Imogene didn't mention you were invited." And it would hardly have slipped her mind. Imogene had sat by Chloe's side when Charl was arrested. When he'd been condemned. She knew how Chloe felt about Lucien.

"I wasn't," he admitted. "I tagged along with some friends." He stared down at her. "I didn't expect you to be here."

Damn aristos. She'd forgotten that for the smaller balls and parties, groups of them would just show up, drifting from entertainment to entertainment as the night took them.

"Imogene is my best friend," she said. "Did you think she would shun me, my lord?"

A wince flickered over his face. "No. I can't see any of your true friends wanting to give that up," he said. "But you've only just returned. I thought you would be spending time with your family still."

"I'm a grown woman. I am hardly going to sit at home with my parents every night." Was it her imagination, or did his eyes flicker down over her dress and the neckline she suddenly regretted?

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