Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
“All right, then at least tonight you are my favorite,” Farah admitted.
The bells of Áine’s laughter rose above the music, and the fairies were so sensitive to any perceived slight, True was taken aback she showed no offense.
Through her amusement, Áine urged True, “Dance with your bride, my prince.”
Only then did he allow himself to be pulled out of his seat and led to the dancefloor. Males and females of the human and fairy varieties cheered and made room as Farah and he came close.
But he felt immediately strange, for they were not dancing any dance he knew and was adept at doing. There were no waltzes. No structured minuets.
There seemed a lot of hopping, skipping, jogging without getting much of anywhere and twirling, all of this without any rhyme or reason, though there was rhythm.
This was how the countryfolk danced. He’d seen it before, but never participated in it. And they did not give lessons on such in the city, lessons such as his mother had him start taking when he was twelve to learn the courtly dances of the gentry.
He started to take Farah in his arms in order to try to do his best, considering she seemed to wish to dance with him quite badly, but instead she wrapped her arm along his stomach and tucked her hip to his at his side, starting to turn him as she walked one way, and he the other.
“I don’t know this dance, sweets,” he told her.
“There is no dance to know,” she replied, continuing to guide him with pressure at his middle. “Just move to the music however you see fit.”
He gazed through the crowd, watching eyes quickly shift away before he would catch them, and he felt less strange and more awkward.
He also felt, acutely, that he was their prince, their future king, and inept hopping, skipping and twirling was not at all what they should witness their future king doing.
Farah suddenly stood in front of him and took both of his hands. She shook them, vigorously, which in turn stirred his arms.
“Don’t think about steps or what you’re supposed to do,” she instructed. “Don’t think about anyone watching you, for they aren’t dancing and thinking of anyone watching them. They’re simply enjoying themselves through the music. So, True, just listen to the music, do what you wish and do it enjoying yourself.”
She had no idea.
She had no idea they were watching him, they always did, and they always would. Thus, he must be circumspect in everything he did, every word spoken, every action taken.
Everything needed to befit a king.
Before he could find some way to communicate this, Farah held their arms out and stepped to his side, bumping her hip to his. She stepped back and did the same on the other side. She then moved from foot to foot for a few beats of the tempo as if showing him what it was before she stepped back, lengthening their arms between them, and moved quickly forward, nearly brushing his body, pulling their arms out to the side.
She then abruptly let him go and hooked an elbow in his and forced him to spin.
And spin.
But suddenly, she let go and True was reeling, searching for her, only to be caught by another woman, elbow in elbow, and twirled.
And twirled.
He had not managed to get his wits about him before he looked down on the curvy woman who had hold of him. Her bust was nearly bursting from her bodice, and she was beaming up at him with what appeared to be unadulterated glee, her face red and shining from exertion.
“It is my deepest honor to be dancing with you, Your Grace!” she cried excitedly, before she let him go, and he was caught by another woman.
This woman whirled him, also beaming, and further shouting to the room, “Look at me! I’m dancing with our handsome Prince True!” Her head twisted this way and that with the twirl as she yelled, “I shall steal him from you, my lady.”
“Never!” Farah called, breaking from the man who was spinning her to come and lay claim on True.
The woman spun away with a delighted laugh.
“No one comes between a fair maiden and her prince!” someone shouted.
“Hear, hear!” someone else called.
Farah reeled him around and around, smiling up at him happily before she stopped their turning and caught his hands. She did some maneuver over their heads that took their arms behind their necks before she let go and fell back.
True nearly cursed, moving to catch her, but before she fell, it was she who caught his hand, their arms long. Then she twirled in, holding hands, so she banged into him, her back to his front, their arms wrapped around her middle.
She tipped her head and again caught his eyes.
“Just listen to the music, bello,” she urged. “And let go.”