We wandered back to find the dancing was in full force. Ser Elías was not at the refreshments like Ser Willoughby had said, but it'd been a while since he'd told us that. I looked for the shine of his armor within the crowd, but when he wasn't in the ballroom, we were continued the search through one of the backdoors.

"Should we split up?" I asked.

The Duke frowned. "Absolutely not. You're to stay with me, remember?"

He took my hand and led me down the steps and into the garden, where I saw my father standing near the gate just before the hedges. But the moment we'd cleared the tables, another couple pulled us into the maypole dance that all the ladies and gents were doing. I had not even seen the pillar erected during setup, but we spun with the girl and her partner, quickly swallowed by the joyful ambiance. It was twice that we passed by Ser Elías before it registered to me.

"Askar!" I cried, freeing my hand to point.

We left the circle, Ask insisting upon 'stealing me' from the man who'd linked his hand with mine. And finally, we found the Lord Commander. He was speaking to my father, and I wondered how I had missed him the first lap. I nearly tripped, stumbling to address him; my foot had caught on a ribbon that was an icy green.

"S-Ser?" I asked. I swallowed, trying to shake it off. I had to put my hands up around me to settle the cascading features of the yard and to combat the bout of dizziness. "Lord Commander, Ser?" I tried. I wasn't sure why I was so formal, but neither was Elías as evident in his furrowed brow when he turned around.

"Your Highness?" he asked. "Your Grace?" He steadied me by my elbows. "Are you well?"

The Duke nodded. "We got caught in the twirling," he said.

My father was happy to receive him. Us. Together. He smiled broadly, offering a near-melodic, "Eyy, there they are. We were just talking about you, Duke."

"You were?" Askar grinned. "Good things, I hope?"

"Are there any bad things to say?" the King asked.

"I–" They were cheerfully engaged.

Even Elías was bright. "You've got a ribbon attached to you," he said.

"What?" I asked.

Askar and I both looked down to find the seafoam band that was coiled around our ankles, binding us together. He pulled it off of us and placed it in my palm.

"That's good luck, you know?" Elías teased. Then he frowned. "What happened to your hand?"

"Ser Willoughby–" I missed a breath.

"It's alright, love," Askar chimed. "Ser Willoughby is looking for you, Ser," he said.

Eli canted his brow. "He's looking for me?"

"Uh," I added. "Yes, he ... Ser Willoughby is looking for you."

"What?" he asked. His word was sharp.

I said it louder. "Ser Willoughby," I emphasized. "He's...? He's looking for you?"

My father's face darkened. "Where?"

"Um," I shook my head because I had forgotten. "Um, um... The back hallway?"

Ask put his hand upon my shoulder. "Ser Willoughby is in the corridor with the line of armored suits. Near the tower stairs."

"Thank you," Father said. He and Ser Elías bowed.

The Duke added, "With Lord Beck," forcing them to pause.

"Your cousin?" Eli asked.

Askar did not break eye contact with the King. "So that it is known, I support Eliza. Not my cousin."

Elías was gone with his statement, but my father looked at me.

"Are you hurt?" he asked me. I shook my head, and he eased. "And you've left him with Ser Willoughby?"

"Yes," Askar said. "And we took our time to find you."

My father nodded, and I tried to decipher their expressions. Finally, Father shot his arms around my back. "My sweet rose," he worried.

"Daddy, I'm okay," I said. "I'm okay. I had the blade."

He breathed. "I hope that means you've bled him for it?" he cracked. He looked at the Duke. "No offense."

"None taken," Ask said. "The blade has its purpose."

"I'm alright," I said again.

"Good." Dad collected Askar's hand in his, squeezed it once, and then he was gone after his knight.

The Duke sighed. "Where is your mother, love?" he asked.

"I don't know. In the Hall, maybe?" I said. "I wasn't looking for her. I should have. I forgot. I just feel... I feel..." I had to sit on one of the benches.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

I wasn't. My whole body was cold for some reason, and I didn't understand why. I bit my lip to look at him. "There are so many eyes out here... What if..." I started to whisper. "What if someone says something about how much time we've spent together? Or they saw anything inside, or they–?"

"Let's rest for a moment," he offered. "I think you need it."

Askar sat beside me, and we watched the ball continue on like nothing was wrong in the world. For those few seconds, I felt far away from thorns and trees.

"I feel like I've ruined the night," I said.

"I don't think you could ruin anything if you tried."

"You're biased," I croaked. "You're in love with me."

"Maybe," he said. "But the fact remains. You didn't ruin anything. I only wish nothing had happened and we had spent the night dancing with each other."

"Not a fan of the tower, then?" I asked.

He smirked, but he didn't look at me; he watched the maypole spin and spin.

"Oof," I snickered. "And now you won't respond. I am wounded."

The corner of his mouth stayed curved. "I'm just watching you fluster," he said.

"I'm not flustering. And you're not watching me; you're... watching ribbons."

He turned his neck to meet me. "Here's a radical concept," he said. "Are you ready for it?"

"Oh, absolutely," I whined.

"It's called 'peripheral vision,'" he air-quoted.

"Tsk!" I laughed. "You're awful. You know that?"

"You remind me so often; it's difficult to forget, so yes."

"Well, I... I don't truly mean it," I said. "You're not actually awful."

"I know." He dawned a proudness.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked.

"I can't," I said.

"I understand. It's been a long night."

"No, you misheard me. I cannot dance with you. I'd like to, even with how terrible my insides feel right now, but... I can't."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because..." I took a deep breath. "Even with my parents' marriage, Oreia is still very strict about what's proper. Very traditional. Men who dance with women more than twice are expected to have made an offer, and in combination with the number of people who have seen us conversing by now– people will anticipate an announcement. I was only half kidding about the pitch-forking before, but there would be an angry mob if you danced with me so much and then you decided not to marry me. And I want you to have a way out and back to Gosil without destroying your reputation. And apparently, God forbid Willough gets wind of it."

"Ah," he nodded. "Being reasonable, are you?"

"I try," I said. "Though I feel weird sitting here, knowing that my knight is brutalizing someone while everyone parties and enjoys themselves unaware."

"What reason would I back out of marrying the single most beautiful flower the world has ever grown?" he asked.

"I-I don't know." I scowled. "But it's been a long night, your words, and the last thing I want is for you to think you have to marry me because you... You gave me your dagger. I can give it back, you know?"

He lifted his brow. "And who told you what that meant?" he asked. "Who should I thank?"

"S-Ser Willoughby." I clicked my tongue. "He's well-traveled. He said some things about it."

"Things. I see. What things?" he asked.

"That... Just things."

"Uh-huh."

"He said... That I never should've offered Ser Nikolai a dagger. That in doing so, I was damning the devotion you were offering me."

"You didn't know," he said. "At least, I hope not."

"I didn't, but the dagger... It... He said it shows the world I belong to you."

"That's not the right translation," he said.

"Oh," I blushed. "Well, still. It's– I can, and I will give the blade back."

"I certainly do not want that," he said. "If you give me the blade back, I might die of a broken heart. I just meant to correct what your Blade got wrong. The dagger does not brand you as belonging to me. It– It's quite the opposite. It means to show the world that I am yours."

"O-Oh," I said.

"As I have always been," he added. "And always will be, dagger or not. Though," he swallowed. "I could explain the significance further if you asked."

"Okay," I said. His breathing changed in a way that stirred my thoughts into a noisy rattling in my head. "I'm asking."

"The blade you are wearing has seen every day of my life, Eliza. It's seen my worst moments; it's seen my best. It's tasted my blood and the blood of things I have killed to provide for myself and my family. My prayers. It's seen things I've cut; it's seen the inside of my home; it's seen everything that there is to know about me. Before my existence, the dagger belonged to my mother."

"I did know that," I said. "At least that's right."

"And before her, my father," he said. "So while the two of you will not have the chance to meet in this lifetime, every danger that lurks around you, every time you're scared and need reassurance, both I, and my father, and my mother are there to shroud you. And one day, you'll give the dagger to our son so that he may share our love with whom he chooses, and so on, and so on, for as long as we are blessed."

"What if we have a daughter?" I asked. "What if there are only daughters? Do we buy blades for all of them?"

He chuckled. "Our first daughter will get the blade I replace yours with. And I guess, if we should have many children, we'll just keep ordering daggers."

I was smiling. He was smiling.

"I thought I was supposed to replace yours," I said. "If you buy it, I lose my chance."

His eyes fell to my lips, and for a moment, I thought he would kiss me there, in front of everyone. Everyone who was dancing but who would undoubtedly turn to see the spectacle, should it occur.

"Traditionally, yes. You'd gift one to me, to–"

"To symbolize a new start?" I asked. "I... Is that right?"

"Yes." He paused. "But the dagger I gave you is a symbol of everlasting commitment. Our love and our strife, and everything between us, is channeled into the blade, and it strengthens its layers. ...That's why they're all Damascus."

"You know, here, we just buy each other rings and call it a day," I joked.

"Oh, you'll have a ring," he said. "Did you think you wouldn't give you one?"

"I don't know what I think," I said. "I just... I am just buzzing on the could bes here."

"The shall bes," he said. "But like you have investigated my culture, I did yours. I know you expect a ring."

"I don't expect anything like that," I said. "If you don't–"

"I want to," he said. "And if you'll have me wear one, I'll wear it."

"Men wear rings here," I whispered.

"Then I'll wear it," he said. "Come. We should find your mother."