They joined another five couples and let the music sweep them in lazy circles across the ballroom floor. Blotting out memory, he held Maris close, but not too close, and was pleased to find that she was graceful on her feet.

“How old are you?” he said, breathing in her floral perfume.

She had the palest green eyes, like rain-washed peridot. They narrowed, just a little. “Old enough that I’m ready to submit my first incant to the Council.”

Disappointment pricked. “And is that why you dance with me? You wish to dance me into sanctioning an incant of your devising?”

“If you thought me that kind of girl,” she said, comfortable in his arms, “you never would’ve asked me to dance.”

“My dear Maris.” He gave her a bladed smile. “I have no idea what kind of girl you are. Until tonight I never knew you existed.”

Which wasn’t entirely true, since he’d long since made it his business to know a little of every First Family who lived in Elvado. But it was true enough. Beyond the fact of her existence, she was a complete stranger.

Now there was a combative tilt to the girl’s chin. “I am nineteen, sir. But do not be deceived by my tender years. Though I do not attend the College I am yet counted a talent and will receive my Council patent with or without your vote on the matter. You should also know that I am sound in mind and limb and understand that you are on the hunt for a wife.”

He felt a pang of unease. Nineteen. So young. She is almost half my age. And she knew he needed to marry. Curse Venette and her meddling.

“I see. Tell me, Maris, are you on the hunt for a husband?”

She shrugged. “My parents want me to be. For myself, I am… open to possibilities.”

A saucy answer. Sweet and biddable? This girl had the world hoodwinked. Interested almost despite himself he smiled again, more warmly. “Are you ambitious?”

“Yes,” she said, bluntly unapologetic as they glided around the dance floor. “Does that offend you?”

“I’d be offended if you weren’t. What is it you want out of life, Maris?”

This time she smiled at him, brilliantly. “Everything. Don’t you?”

The music ended, ending their dance. When the musicians struck up again, he frowned. “Do you care to jig?”

“Not particularly,” she said, careless. “Disappointed?”

Raising her hand, he touched his lips to her skin, lightly, making sure to look directly into her eyes.

“No.”

She smiled again, cattish, like Venette. “Neither am I.”

To his surprise, her parents took to the dance floor as he and Maris abandoned it. Noticing, she laughed.

“I made them promise not to haunt me. You should know the prospect of your interest has them all aflutter.”

“And you, Maris? Are you aflutter too?”