Madame Dupont began the first steps of the gavotte, offering no compromise in terms of speed or technique, moving in toward Gwen and then back again. She was light on her feet, elegant and controlled. Playing the organ was automatic for Isobelle, but these steps were a part of Madame Dupont.

At first Gwen didn’t move at all, her eyes on her instructor’s feet. She blinked and drew breath, and Isobelle’s heart skipped a beat as she waited for her would-be champion to protest. Then Gwen let the breath back out again and lifted her gaze to watch Madame Dupont move as a whole, rather than just staring at her shoes.

Slowly, she began to mirror her. At first, it was simply Dupont’s movements. And then, after a few bars, Gwen started to match her footwork.

“One may learn the correct grip for a sword,” rapped out Madame Dupont, gesturing with her own sword as the two women bobbed in toward each other, and then gracefully back. “One may build the strength for a swing, make the weapon an extension of one’s very arm. The question is, can one do so when a large and odorous knight is lunging in for the kill?”

Gwen moved differently with a sword in her hand. She was more sure of herself, even though she’d never seen this dance before. She flowed, light on her feet, her skirts swirling around her legs as she took her cues from Madame Dupont.

“You must see the way they shift their weight,” Madame Dupont continued. “Watch their chest as they announce which way their arm will go. Note the turn of a foot, the preparation for a lunge.”

And Gwen was. She was doing it! Isobelle felt like cheering, but she kept her hands firmly on the keys, contenting herself with throwing in a merry little flourish. Gwen held her space confidently, her full attention locked on Madame Dupont as the older woman led her back to the beginning of the dance once more.

“Yes, good,” her teacher said, and Isobelle glanced up in surprise, nearly fumbling the next phrase of the music. Praise, from Madame Dupont?

Gwen seemed to sense it was unusual as well, and blinked.

“Watch your step,” the Frenchwoman said, with what could be described as at least a moderately evil grin. And then she swung her sword at Gwen’s head.

Isobelle hit a wrong key, the discordant note ringing out and echoing around the ballroom. Gwen’s sword hand snapped up, blocking the attempted blow with seeming ease, though she did miss a single step before she resumed her footwork.

There was a gleam in her eye to match Madame Dupont’s now, though.

“Next!” cried Madame Dupont, snapping the fingers on her free hand in Isobelle’s direction.

She scrambled to shift to a new tune on the organ, and with it, a new set of steps for Gwen to learn.