Clarysa gasped. “What is–”
“Quiet!”
A small glowing orb materialized above her palm. Soon, it coalesced into a shimmering, translucent rose. Stellan watched the princess watch the illusion, its soft light enhancing the beauty of her face. After a moment or so it faded away, as soundlessly as it had come.
The grove reverted to its former state of semidarkness. Stellan heard Clarysa’s heavy breathing, and then he realized he was breathing just as hard. Whether it was from the effort it took to perform the spell, or something else, he wasn’t sure.
“Do it again!”
Stellan dropped her hand. “No.” He headed out from the grove.
“Oh, but wait!” Clarysa clutched his arm. “I’m sorry. I was being selfish.” She searched his face. “You’re panting. Are you tired?”
Stellan halted. “Not particularly, no. But magick can be strenuous, yes, in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.” He sensed the impression he had made by the widening of her eyes and the visible shudder that ran through her. For some reason, it gave him a thrill.
A bench lay ahead of them once they reached the path. Clarysa sat down, and patted the spot next to her. Stellan looked around, thoroughly ill at ease. He really should have been trying to arrange his meeting with the King.
“Would you rather go back to the party?” she asked.
Stellan shook his head and sat down. In the middle of a wedding celebration, it was unlikely he’d gain the King’s undivided attention.
Clarysa folded her hands demurely on her lap. But she regarded him with a bold and even gaze. “What’s the most powerful spell you’ve ever done?”
Stellan looked at her sharply, and he was suddenly reminded of how different the two of them were. “Only children, charlatans or the ignorant refer to the Arts as ‘spells,’ and I hardly think my past actions are any of your concern.”
A crestfallen expression passed over her features. “Begging your pardon, sir. I was only curious.”
Frustrated, Stellan glanced away. He debated how long he should stay. Perhaps he should storm back into the castle and demand to see the King immediately. After all, it was for the benefit of Aldebaran. Related thoughts boiled in his brain, but then a light sniffling sound broke his concentration. Stellan gave the princess a sidelong glance.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, unable to keep the hard edge out of his voice.
Clarysa rubbed her nose briefly. “Nothing. What makes you ask such a question?”
“No, I just…” Stellan paused. How could a man and a woman spending time together be so damn confusing?
“You just what?”
He opened his mouth to answer, only to slowly close it, thinking the better of his proposed response. “Oh, forget it.”
An awkward pause followed, suspended by the rhythmic chant of cicadas. A very long pause.
Clarysa cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I was nosy about your spells…or magick… Whatever you prefer. You see, well, it’s so exciting! And I don’t get much of that around here.”
Stellan looked at her in surprise. He made a sweeping gesture. “What’s all of this, then? You live in the richest kingdom of the Five Lands. Surely you can find something exciting to do, or travel somewhere interesting?”
Clarysa snorted. “If you’re a man, yes.” She propped her chin in her hands. “Oh, I must sound like a spoiled brat. But riches aren’t everything, you know.”
Stellan said nothing.
“I want a life! I want to be challenged! I want something to make me think so hard my head will burst!”
Stellan chuckled despite himself. “So, you don’t care for all this fancy celebration? Or for music, or dancing?” He began to think his hasty yet arduous lessons had gone to waste.
Clarysa shrugged. “I like it well enough, I guess. But I haven’t found anybody I’d like to do it with.”
“So you’re saying it’s overrated.”
“Yes, exactly.”
Stellan nodded in response to her appreciative expression. Another moment of silence passed.
Clarysa cleared her throat. “Would you like to dance?”
“Yes.” The word was up and out of his mouth before he realized it. His stomach tightened. Now why on earth did you have to go and agree to do that? He searched his mind for any reason, any excuse, to untangle himself, but it would be extremely rude. Besides, he was here, after all, to try and make a good impression. If he endured this one dance, maybe Clarysa would facilitate a meeting with her father.
Or maybe he’d ruin everything. It wouldn’t be the first time. Stellan followed her to the great hall, dragging his feet and feeling very sorry for himself.
* * * *
The hall was far too crowded for his taste. Upon reaching the edge of the dance floor, Stellan hung back. The ever-present thought warning him against such risks gnawed its way across his mind. But Clarysa turned to face him and playfully grabbed his hand. With a fetching glance, she forcefully drew him onto the floor.
At first, he could barely bring himself to look into her face, one upturned and full of expectation. His limbs felt rigid and gangly, and his feet stomped about as if made of stone. He came close to calling the whole affair off. But Clarysa took his arm and placed it snugly about her waist. One hand landed daintily on a shoulder, and the other slipped into his barely outstretched arm. She stood about a head shorter than he, but it seemed a perfect fit. Clarysa nudged him to start moving.
The plan didn’t proceed as smoothly as it should have. They became entangled in each other’s feet as Stellan tried to imitate the moves of the other dancers. His three quick lessons before the trip were proving to be insufficient.
Clarysa giggled. “Unconventional is a good start.” But her expression turned to one of concern as she looked up at him. “What’s wrong?”
Stellan leaned toward her ear. The aromatic smell of her skin briefly distracted him, and he paused to quell a stirring ache. This soon melted into a vat of embarrassment. “I…don’t know this dance.”
“Which ones do you know?”
“Only one, actually. ‘Wind in the Willow.’”
Clarysa smiled. “I know that one! It’s certainly an old…a classic.” She glanced at the musicians. “But we’ll need a different tune.”
She raced away, leaving Stellan to awkwardly dodge a number of gyrating bodies. The music came to an abrupt halt, prompting disgruntled murmurs and numerous glares in his direction. He wished he could conjure a shrinking incantation from his magickal repertoire.
Clarysa rushed back, red-faced and breathless. “Here we go, then!” She pushed herself into his arms as the music resumed.
It was a grand, uplifting piece conveyed by gentle strings and modest horns. The couples drifted into a wide circle, spinning in place while each pair took turns in the middle showing off elaborate moves. Sometimes two couples or more pivoted about, chasing each other across the floor with laughs and challenges to whirl faster, harder. Clarysa had indicated her intention to step into the circle early on, but Stellan held her back. Not because he didn’t know the steps, but because he hadn’t expected the format to draw so much attention to individual pairs. He was content to remain on the sidelines.
But Clarysa foiled him. She yanked him toward the center, her petite figure belying such strength. Stellan gaped and nearly tripped. Thankfully, she steadied him as he bumped into her.
She