Page 47 of A Tale of Ice and Ash
Cole chuckled in her ear. “You have… not improved, over the years.”
“I am out of practise. This is not how dwarves dance.”
“What? Elegantly?”
“Don’t be rude.”
“I apologise.” He spun her round and back into the fold of his arms. “You’re too stiff,” he said. “Lighten up.”
“Your proximity makes me tense.”
He snorted. “I don’t remember your tongue being so sharp.”
“I don’t remember you being this irritating.”
He dipped her. “By ‘irritating’ do you mean flirtatious?”
“Could youbeany more infuriating?”
He squared up to her, his smile sinful. “Is that a request, or a dare?”
“Stop doing that!”
“Why?”
Eirwen’s thoughts stuttered.Because you never mean anything when you flirt. Because I’m not used to it. Because I don’t know how to react. Because it catches me off guard. Because I don’t understand romance.
Because you make me feel powerless.
“Perhaps you’re not as charming as you think you are.”
“Oh no, that can’t be it,” he said. “But no matter. I shall keep my flirting to a minimum in future.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I mean, I’lltry.”
“In the same way that I am trying to dance?”
Cole laughed. A real, genuine, warm laugh, like a crackle of sunlight along a dark horizon. When he brought her close for another movement, he held her against him for a fraction of extra time. A moment longer than he needed to. “I really have missed you, Snow.”
The dance slid to a close. Cole was still smiling at her.
“I’d keep dancing with you, but if my mother sees any more of your clumsy moves, she’s going to recognise you for sure.”
“I see. Shall we agree to meet again in an hour?”
“Are you alone here?”
“More or less,” she said, unwilling to throw Marie’s name into the mix.
Cole shook his head. “Come with me,” he said.
He took her to the music room, a round gilded chamber housing every instrument imaginable. Nothing about this room had changed in five years. She’d stood on Cole’s feet a lot on these floors, spent hours learning the harp. The same one still sat in the corner of the room. Her fingers itched for it, reaching out to pluck the strings. The chords struck something deep inside her.Hello, old friend.
Cole went over to the piano and lifted the lid, sliding onto the stool and pressing his fingers against the keys. A sweet, lilting tune stung the air, beating back the orchestra in the ballroom.
“I am surprised your mother kept the portrait of mine,” she said.
