The four of us were wasted, our breathing difficult, as we slowed to a stop near an open field. It was surrounded by an army of large oak trees, and seemed to be the only safe haven for the roses in this nation. I smiled as they came into view, sparsely decorated around the grass and under the crescent moon.

Cyrus dismounted his horse, and held his hand out for mine. "Princess?" he said "Let's let them rest for a moment. You think?" I could tell he was equally winded from the excitement of the race as I, though he wore it better. And that made me feel strange about being alone with him out here; gasping.

Still, I took his offer, and tried to slide from Tails with grace, but instead, the horrid weight of my ball gown forced me towards him in a hurling mess of fabric. Soon I was on top of him, and he was laid out, flat into the grass!

He stared oddly at the position that we found ourselves in, and I blushed as I realized his hands had caught me at my hips. I hurried to find my feet, brushing the dress free from an invisible; obscene amount of dirt, unable to meet his eyes.

Cyrus muttered something as I forgot to help him up, and I bit my lip out of distress. "I'm sorry," I managed. Ridiculous.

"That is such a heavy dress," he remarked.

"It was very expensive," I said. For what reason? I didn't know.

He brushed a hand over the back of his trousers then instructed our horses not to wander off from where they stood. He stepped out into the meadow and I looked between him and the obedient creatures, reluctantly impressed by how liked he was by them.

"You are quite the gifted equestrian," I commented.

"You humble me," he said.

"Now that," I paused. "That is the first real Oreian thing I've heard you say."

"What is?"

"'You humble me,'" I parroted. "My favorite knight says it, near every day."

"Ah yes. Ser Willoughby?" he asked, his accent returning with each vowel. "He seemed nice."

"Willoughby? Ha! Heavens, no. I mean, sure he is nice but. No, that's not who I'm talking about... You haven't met the one I'm speaking of."

"You mean Ser Elías?"

"I do," I said, smiling. "Have you met him? You'd know it. He's the big one. Quiet. Older." I waved my hand over my face, "Constant frown."

Cyrus looked at me, "...You only came with two Blades."

"Oh," I shrugged. "Well, my apologies for getting excited. Anyway, Eli is our watch's commander. He counts for two in himself. So really, I came with three. You see?"

"Eli," he nodded.

"A slip of tongue," I lied, "Ser Elías has been with my father and I since I was a child... I think you'll find he's the far superior conversationalist anyway. Once you get him talking."

"No offense," he hummed. "But I likely won't remember your knight's name for I don't foresee a conversation."

I snickered, gathering myself. "Sorry. I thought that was a joke... You've done nothing but demonstrate an excellent recall?"

He scowled at me.

"Well you haven't! It isn't every man I meet who learns my maid's name, let alone uses it. And even before I said it. You knew Eli's. Er. Elías'. Ser Elías' name."

He returned to his natural melancholy, leaning in. "You don't have to wear your mask with me. If you're friends with your knight, just say it."

"I'm..." His eyes glimmered, and though they held onto something else, something about them felt warm. Familiar. Safe. "I am friends with my knight," I confessed.

He smirked. "I know. Now tell me about the ball."

"I thought..." I shook myself. "Did we not decide we weren't going to speak of Sam?"

"I didn't ask about Sam," he said. "I asked about the ball."

I had to think. I'd abandoned the evening, I realized, to follow Cyrus instead. I hadn't even noticed I had completely forgotten about Sam until he was brought up. "It was beautiful," I said. "Very formal. I'm sure few expenses were spared."

"And that makes it beautiful?" he asked. "That it cost a lot?"

"No," I added. "I... I liked... the color palette. There was a lot of white. With gold accents that matched my dress, but in a good way. And I liked the veining in the floor. The ballroom back home has wood. Oh! And there was a swan! Made of ice in the center of the flutes. Which, I felt, was particularly nice."

"You would like the bird," he sang.

"I would." I narrowed my eyes, now certain he was still upset from our brawl. "What's wrong with swans?"

"They're notoriously mean."

"Is this about this morning?" I blurted.

"What?" He sat as I went on, propping one of his legs up and resting his arm over his knee. "It's about mean birds."

I looked down at him, wondering if he meant to make me uncomfortable by the angle. "I assumed you were a lord. And you just. You carry yourself so well. Not! Not that someone who isn't high-born could not do such a thing, it's just-." I took a deeper breath. "Do you mind standing?"

"I'd rather sit," he said.

"Right. Well. I just. I don't want you to keep emphasizing the differences in our class."

"They are quite prominent."

"This is exhausting. They don't matter."

"Don't they? I wasn't invited to your ball. Though it'd be hilarious if I showed up. Can you imagine everyone's faces?" he joked.

"Yes, based on this evening's conversations, I can imagine many of the ladies being quite-" I blushed. "Oof."

"Oh, no. You're not getting off that easy. Did you speak of me at the ball? What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything. I mean. I may have said I knew you, after you were brought up, but-"

"How was I brought up? Which lady? Was she cute?"

I shook my head fiercely. "You're missing the point!"

"The point is what then? How did I make it into conversation? I'm confused, Princess. Surely if you were speaking illy-"

"What? No, they-" I frowned.

Cyrus laughed. "Perhaps if I knew what was said specifically?"

I growled. "You are insufferable."

"Thank you, I try." Cyrus stood, but only to circle me. "Fear not, you don't have to tell me what they said. I will guess. If you like."

"Lor-Er. Mr. Evergreen." My throat tightened as I followed his strut.

"They told you I was a dangerous." He smiled, dragging his gaze over mine.

"Dangerous?" My face paled. "No, they said..."

"I was a rake?"

"...Are you?"

He crossed his arms. "Am I?"

I scanned the treeline, taking a step back. "They only said you were very handsome!"

Cyrus cracked, deeply chuckling. "Oh! Your face!"

"...What?"

He relaxed again, crossing his arms. "I was messing with you. I'm quite the gentleman. I assure you."

"What is wrong with you?" I croaked, gathering and throwing my skirt around. "Are you trying to send me to an early grave? We're out here alone, and I-!"

"I'm sorry," he nodded.

"Oh, God. My life just flashed before my eyes!"

"I'm sorry," he teased. "A poor joke. But perhaps a needed one. You really should reconsider disappearing into the forest with strange men. I could be ill-intended and you are ... very...." he paused.

"...Very?" and I waited for the end of his thought.

"Naïve ."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "I am not naïve!" The wind trespassed between us, a reminder of its chill, but my curiosity kindled still. "At least I'm not a liar," I cried.

"I've never lied to you."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Who's to say? But you did lie to Sam, and he's your 'best friend,' so I am not confident."

"I did no-"

"You said you didn't know who I was. In the square. Yes or no?"

"I was having an off day," he explained. "What were the dances like?" he asked.

"The dances?"

"At your ball."

"Are you evading the accusation now?"

"Clearly!"

I mulled over it. "I only danced once. And fast. Too fast."

"With Sam?"

"Yes, with Sam," I said. "It would have been strange to entertain others, wouldn't it?" And no one else even spoke to me without his instruction."

"I lied to Sam in a moment of panic," he said.

"Panic? About what?"

"Because I knew he'd be mad I didn't collect him to meet you. I was in a hurry." Cyrus hummed, stretching his arm over his chest. "Fast you said?"

"Quite. Eventually we slowed but. It was not at all what I expected or how we dance back home. I'm sure Sam would've understood if you were honest."

"I think I know him a little better than you. Sam can be possessive," he said. "He called you his wife within seconds of meeting you."

"What does that matter?"

"I missed the opportunity to tell him about you, and now it looks like I was purposely hiding you."

"Oh," I eased. "Then I caused trouble for you then."

"We talked it out. It's fine," he sighed. "Otherwise he would've been cross with you this evening. Was he?"

"No... In fact, I thought we shared a moment where- wait a second!" I declared, "You've tricked me! I specifically stated I would not speak about him to you, you weasel!"

"Weasel?" he laughed. "That one's new."

"And rather fitting, I think. You tricked me into speaking my mind!"

"No one could ever trick you into that," he declared.

"What does that mean?" I spat back.

"It means you give your opinion quite freely and without incentive. Come." He flipped his palm.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" I stared.

"Take it," he suggested. "Or don't. Though it will make it much harder to dance with you."

"To... dance...?" I stopped. "You're asking me to dance with you?"

He waited, brows peaked and an easy look on his face.

"...In a field?"

"I am," he said. "And it's getting weird. Kind of wishing I hadn't."

"There's no music?" I said.

"There doesn't have to be music. Though I can sing badly for you, if you wish?"

Somewhere, crickets. But. Maybe out of unrelenting desire to know everything about anything, I placed my hand into his, instantly regretting it.

It felt good under mine. A tingling. One that hadn't been there with Sam. I felt my face soften as Cyrus coiled me into his chest; a perfect Oreian spin. His palm met my side, just below my ribs, and he looked intently into my eyes. "Are you familiar?" he asked.

"With our country's dance?" I struggled. "Yes."

He didn't hesitate to continue it, righting me in his grip, and leading me back as the choreography called. I kept pace with him, and for the entirety of the gesture, neither of us said anything else.

It was just his breathing over mine; his eyes on mine; his lead. When it was over, when he had let go, his warmth left, too, an obvious space between us.

Suddenly I wasn't sure if my sensation in my chest, the tightening, was from the corset, or something else. "...Oof," I whined, trying to find my balance.

"Are you alright?" Cyrus reached for me. I may as well have leapt from my skin with the size of my stumble.

"I'm. Oh. Quite. It's this blasted corset I think." My voice grew sharper, "It's so..."

"Here, let me loosen it for-"

"No!" I shrieked, leaving us both wide-eyed. "No, thank you. Thank you," I said. "You've done enough, please don't touch me- it. Don't touch it."

His hands fell to his pockets and he stammered. "I only meant-"

"Of course. Me, too." I said. "But I'm fine," I added. "All in a lady's day, aye?"

Cyrus left and came back from the horses with a canteen. "It's daunting; finding yourself in a new land. But you have friends here. It's worse without, trust me."

Something sad painted itself across his features, which, maybe enchanted by the rising sun, had now become very, very handsome to me. "...Why did you leave?" I asked.

He didn't answer. He passed, returning to Edith to ready her, and the moment we had shared was lost. "We should get you back to the Palace, Princess. I'm sure Josie will be looking for you soon. And when she can't find you, Ser Elías."

The repeated gesture of my friends' names made me blush. I was disgusted by how... special that made me feel. Like something about my life was worth noting. But my companion was very unlikely willing to keep talking. The bags forming under his eyes saddled me with guilt.

"I've kept you up," I realized.

"I stayed out of free will. But it is late. You'll be missed."

My words disintegrated, coming out as just one; "Yes," meek and quiet, but worthy of his gaze.

"Thank you, for the dance," he said.

"Please don't... don't tell the Prince he injured me. Even in the morning."

"Your secret is safe with me, Princess."

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A U T H O R '  S   N  O  T  E

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