In answer, she pointed to the far corner, where a lute lay unnoticed and untouched atop a chair.

“I am not one to miss a detail,” Mari said, and she winked. “Especially when it comes to a gathering of friendly company.”

The paladin squeezed Keles’s hand, then rose from his chair and crossed the room.

“It has been a few years,” he said as he lifted the lute and glanced over the finely made instrument. “I pray my fingers remember their way.”

The paladin began to play, scattered and slow at first, but gradually steadying out the rhythm. His hand strummed, and as the deep hum of the strings filled the room, Rayan started to stomp with his right foot, a second instrument in its own right upon the hardwood floor. He did not sing, only hum, a perfect accompaniment.

The music pulled at Cyrus’s chest, and he was hardly alone. Stasia was the first on her feet, and she dragged a playfully protesting Clarissa up with her. The two pushed the other table to the wall, clearing up space. It took only a moment of Mari badgering her father to convince him to dance along with her. Cyrus tapped his own feet along to the rhythm, and then Keles stood. His heart skipped, and he immediately chastised himself for making assumptions.

Assumptions that proved true when she offered him her hand.

“Come, prince, I would not have us the only ones seated.”

“Me?” Cyrus asked, feeling stupid the moment the word left his mouth.

“Do you see anyone else my age to dance with?”

He took her hand and stood, then accepted her other so they were a foot apart. Her touch sent lightning coursing up his arms. His throat constricted so words became difficult. She swayed softly a moment, watching, until he realized she was waiting for him to take the lead.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not sure how.”

“You know how to kill but not how to dance?”

A bitter retort rose and then died on Cyrus’s tongue. He had been learning how, for a young prince was expected to know his way about a ballroom. Such training had halted when the empire arrived. The Usurper King had only needed his obedient presence. There was no need for him to dance, or sing, or enjoy pleasant company.

“Haven’t had much time to learn,” he said, leaving all else unspoken.

“Your priorities are poor, but what should I expect from our ruthless, otherworldly Vagrant? Follow my lead, then.”