Karina approached Vitor Kors, who was sitting between Nik and Arel, she smiled. By the middle of the evening, Karina took off her veil, leaving a precious tiara on her head, and even the mask on her face could not hide what kind of elated and joyful mood she was in:
“Father, dance with me,” Karina asked, “I am so grateful to you for everything! You are the best father in the world! Give me one dance.”
Kors smiled at her.
“Better dance with your husband.”
“He's being distracted all the time! Everyone approaches him, congratulates him, starts to say something, to ask. Some endless questions,” answered Karina displeased.
“There’s nothing to be done,” Kors said didactically. “Every victory has a downside, and that’s the price of power. Endless flatterers and sycophants looking for their own benefit. And the opportunity to cling to the strong and…”
“To be honest,” Karina interrupted him, “he also doesn’t dance very well.”
“Okay,” said Kors, smiling a little as he got up from his seat. They went to the middle of the hall, where several couples were already dancing.
Nikto and Arel watched as luxurious Vitor Kors and Karina started dancing, how beautiful they were dancing.
“And now I want to dance with Nik,” Karina said when they finally returned.
“Karina, I can't, I'm sorry,” Nikto answered, “I dance very badly and I will stumble.”
“But you move beautifully when you fight,” she said.
“Yes… but dancing… is a little different. And I learned to fight for a long time, but I didn’t learn to dance. I can dance some very simple peasant dance: I stomped, circled, circled the girl, clapped my hands,” Nik smiled, “but you dance very complex dances.”
“It was a waltz,” said Kors.
“Yes, here, you need to quickly move around the room in a circle, I will stumble, and a couple next to us will fly into us, it will be very embarrassing. Sorry, I don't refuse you on purpose.”
“Why would he dance?” Kors intervened again, “it's all nonsense.”
“But you just danced with me!”
“Just because I cannot refuse you anything! I love you very much, Karina, and you know that very well.”
“I love you too!” she looked up at Arel:
“Well, then Prince Arel, you will not slip away, I remember very well how well you dance.”
“Yes, I was not going to refuse you, Karina,” Arel said.
And they went off to dance.
The servant carefully placed a mint green envelope on the table in front of Kors:
“This is for you, sir,” he bowed politely.
“What is it?” Kors was surprised.
“I don’t know, sir, they just asked me to tell you.”
“Who?”
“This letter was given to me by a lady’s slave, sir.”
“Father! It seems that some red lady wants to meet you,” Karina laughed.
“What?” Kors waved his hand towards the servant. “Good. You are free, you can go.”
He opened the envelope, inside there was a note.
“I am writing to you first, and that already says it all. What else can I add, knowing that now you have the right to punish me with contempt, but…” and then everything in the same spirit.
Kors smiled, amused by this situation, but at the same time flattered that only he was sent a love note:
“So they are not as hammered as they might seem? She won't be executed for this?” He turned to Karina.
“But you won't tell anyone and you won't compromise her?”
“No, of course, but I will not approach her either.”
“And you won't ask her to dance?”
“No,”
“But why?”
“I’m not interested in faceless circumcised women, and to be honest, they are all too fat here.”
Karina laughed again:
“This is the daughter of the head of the Green House, she may well not be circumcised, not all red men adhere to these rules, there are those who are quite loyal and give their women freedom, don’t mutilate them for the sake of traditions. If she dared to write you a note, it means that she is quite free in her manifestations, it simply would not have come into the head of an obedient circumcised woman.”
Kors looked towards the part of the room where the family members, whose color was green, were sitting at the tables:
“She's wearing a veil, and I can't see her face, maybe she's ugly.”
“Invite her to dance and see.”
“Let her write notes to Arel, he is a handsome prince, and I am already old for this. I'm not interested in flirting.”
“Dad, don’t sell yourself short, well, what the talks of being old?! If she is so disposed to you, I think that business may not be limited to flirting.”
“So that her relatives would force me to marry her later? Well, no,” Kors laughed.
He brought the note to the candle, burning it:
“Let her look for someone else.”
But in his heart he was very pleased that this girl singled out him, and not young and beautiful Arel sitting next to him.
24
Blood ties
And the holiday went on.
Vitor Kors, Nikto and Arel left the main banquet hall for a while and went to the room that the reds called the hookah lounge, and for the blacks the hookah was a curiosity.
Vitor Kors was sitting on a soft sofa, buried in brocade pillows. In his life, he had already tried this fun of the reds, and he liked it. Therefore, he enjoyed the moment and, at the same time, with his arm bent at the elbow, he relaxed hugged his Nik, who sat next to him, around the neck. Kors pressed his head to his chest, kissing the bright top of his head every minute. Nikto didn’t resist at all and allowed Kors to hug him and press him to himself as he wanted. With his free hand, Kors stroked his bangs. Nikto’s ponytail had long been disheveled, but Kors didn’t care now. He didn’t brush his hair anymore, he didn’t alter his tail, he just stroked and fiddled gently through his hair, ran over the bangs that obscured Nik’s face and his eyes, without removing it or opening his face, stroking him like a beloved pet – a cat or a dog.
Only sometimes, between puffs, he nevertheless slightly shifted his white hair aside, leaning towards the face of Nikto and kissing him gently on the forehead or eyes:
“I love you, I love you, let me