“Are you stupid?” Mikhail practically spat as he approached Kat, his face flushing red. “Did you forget your brain as well as your duty?”

  The princess bristled, setting her remaining half-eaten scone down on the nearest table. “Did you forget your manners, Mikhail? I am still the [Princess] of your Kingdom and the daughter of your [King], am I not?”

  For a moment, a tense standoff hung between the Princess and the man revealing an entirely new side of himself. Finally, Mikhail relented, drawing in a breath and straightening his overcoat—though it hadn’t needed fixing. When he spoke, it wasn’t an apology, but his tone and volume were more controlled.

  “Please. Explain yourself.”

  “Ending the reception period slightly early on Prince Castellan will imply I’m seriously considering his offer for one reason or another,” Kat explained coolly. “It will make those who thought they had no chance reconsider, and those who believed they had a good chance take this more seriously. I seek only the best offer for the future of my Kingdom.”

  Mikhail’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. “Your play is as childish as it is simplistic, and it speaks to a lack of spine—though not entirely devoid of thought. You forget your place and purpose. Your father will be hearing of this.”

  “Naturally,” Kat said without flinching.

  Another tense, silent moment passed before Mikhail’s eyes flicked down to the scone beside the Princess. “[Analyzing Glance]. Your waistline is beginning to expand. I’ve already told you to cut back on your snacking, your grace. Please don’t make me instruct the staff to withhold sweets.”

  Only then did Katarina’s impassive facade crack, her cheek twitching. To Damian’s bafflement, she bowed slightly to Mikhail. “Of course, [Dvoretsky] Mikhail. I will act with more grace.”

  “See that you do,” he said sharply, turning and walking quickly from the room.

  The silence was heavy and uncomfortable, but Damian dared not break it until he was sure Mikhail was out of earshot. Even then, he kept his voice low. “Um... what just happened?”

  Kat snorted, as she was prone to. “I just got chewed out. Have you never been chewed out before?”

  “No, I—” Damian started to answer before he thought better of it. “I just meant, aren’t you the [Princess]? What even is a [Dvoretsky]?”

  “It’s a cultural title,” the Princess said, snatching up her half-eaten scone and stuffing the rest into her mouth. She continued through a mouthful of food: “Equivalent to a [Majordomo] or [Seneschal].”

  Damian stared at her, having never heard of either of those classes.

  “An [Advisor] and [Head Servant] rolled into one,” Kat elaborated. “Sometimes with other duties as well, depending on the house in question.”

  “Right...” Damian said cautiously. “Including being rude to the [Princess]?”

  The princess in question made a pained face. “He was right, of course. I was, in part, blowing off the suitors because I needed a break from it all. Father says Mikhail can be judgmental and intense sometimes, but that he’s a necessary evil of a successful house. He’ll apologize for how Mikhail said it, but not what he said. It is a [Princess’s] duty to do what is best for her Kingdom. Which makes me... more or less obliged to marry whoever will secure the best future for the Kingdom. It would be easier if I had siblings. My father was picked to be king because he wanted to—his brothers and sisters married for love.”

  Damian wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he said nothing at all. Eventually, Kat turned and gave him a small smile. “So, we were talking about how pleasant and easy my life is?”

  “It is pleasant and easy,” Damian said quickly, and Kat’s smile faded. But Damian wasn’t done. “But it has... unique challenges. I shouldn’t speak on what I don’t understand. I apologize.”

  “You are terrible at apologies,” Kat said with an amused lilt.

  Damian shrugged. “I’m not going to lie to you. I think half the men who were just in here were lying to you in one way or another. You deserve better.”

  Kat laughed a full belly laugh, holding a hand over her chest and throwing her head back, and the show of emotion made Damian blush. He could tell the laugh was real because it was intercut with snorts—a very unladylike laugh she’d never have allowed normally. Perhaps it was the makeup or dress or the care of dozens of attendants and skills, but she really was quite beautiful. Then Damian remembered she was probably over three years older than him and wondered if it was strange that this was the second time he’d felt physical attraction to someone nearly four years older than he was.

  He decided to squash that thought before it could take deep root in his mind.

  While Kat recovered from laughing, Damian adjusted his stance rather than fidget with his hands. What had just happened made him more determined than ever to follow Mikhail’s instructions as best he could. “What’s next today, your grace?”

  “Hm? Oh—arts and accomplishments,” Kat answered, perking up. “My favorite time of day. Let’s go see if Anton is available early.”

  And with that, Kat hurried from the room, and Damian followed. When they left, their shadow of two [Knights] appeared behind them, and Damian noted how he was noticing them less and less. He wondered if the skill that let them seemingly disappear wasn’t an individual skill at all, but something someone else used on them.

  They descended to the ground floor of the castle, then passed through the main entrance hall and into a second room, larger than any other Damian had been in. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought the room was larger than should have fit in this part of the castle. One of the inns he’d stayed in had a skill that compressed space, allowing for dozens of rooms in a building that should’ve only fit a quarter of that. He figured that was probably the case here.

  “Ah, Anton dear,” Kat called out.

  The only man in the giant room turned and saw them coming, quickly bowing deeply at the waist. “Your grace. I wasn’t expecting you for some time yet.”

  “Yes well, my timetable accelerated. Are you busy?”

  “For you, your grace, never,” Anton said with a smile as he straightened. “Shall we begin with the gusli?”

  “Ohhh yes please,” Kat agreed.

  Damian stood nearby, Anton giving him a nod but otherwise ignoring him as he went about his business. The room was filled with tables on one half, a small stage, and the other necessary trappings of a ballroom. It was the first time Damian had ever been in one, but it was so obviously a ballroom it was almost comical. Anton walked with purpose to a cabinet against one of the walls, opening it and removing a strange polished piece of wood.

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  When he returned, Damian got a closer look and realized it was an instrument strung with dozens of strings. In Jahrmarkt, Damian had gotten a glance at a harp, and [Bards] often played guitars or lutes, and this reminded him of a cross between a harp and a lute. It was much more angular, though.

  Kat took the instrument and laid it across her legs, leaning over it and plucking at the strings experimentally. It was higher in pitch than the harp Damian had heard but made a beautiful noise when the Princess began strumming the strings in full. Anton had her launch into exercises where she worked her way up the strings in a cascade of notes, and then they moved to hand placement for groupings of strings.

  It was all very much over Damian’s head, but the music was beautiful. He’d never really considered music something he was interested in learning, but now that he had a moment to stand there and appreciate it, he was reevaluating. Why shouldn’t he learn it? If he had time while he was trying to save Kat, of course. It could be fun. In any case, Damian quite enjoyed listening to Kat play—and she was quite good at it. Or at least, Damian thought so.

  After practicing with the gusli for a while, Anton took the instrument from her and she transitioned to practicing dancing. She called one of the servants over, and he served as her partner as she swept across the dance floor in long strides, following the man—Grigori—in a fast but relatively simple dance that seemed designed specifically to make her dress flow and swish around. But only a few minutes in, the moment was ruined when Kat tripped and nearly fell flat on her face, if not for Grigori catching her at the last moment.

  Without thinking, Damian snickered before quickly cutting himself off, but not nearly fast enough to stop Kat from noticing.

  She flushed slightly as she straightened, scowling at Damian. “Oh please, it’s practice. I would ask you keep your thoughts to yourself—unless you can do better.”

  Damian thought the safest response was to say nothing, but he quickly regretted it.

  “Can you do better?” Kat asked, her tone suddenly reflective. “Have your people any traditional dances you might be willing to share?”

  “Er... no,” Damian said, trying to sound both diplomatic and firm.

  The Princess narrowed her eyes. “You are a terrible liar. And worse, you laughed at me. Come, show me how you dance.”

  Already Damian could feel a blush creeping up his cheeks. He could dance if he really wanted to. He’d learned a fair bit with Konrad and had danced a few times at inns since, but nothing fit for a Princess or a ballroom. However, he did have one trick in his favor...

  “Okay, um... do you have any alcohol?”

  Kat raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “You’re so embarrassed you’d need liquid courage on your side? Truly, if it’s that much to ask of you, you could just refuse.”

  “It’s for a skill,” Damian explained awkwardly, his cheeks now properly burning.

  The Princess didn’t seem convinced. “Wine, or something stronger?”

  “Stronger, please,” Damian requested.

  A few moments later, a servant arrived with a platter on which sat a small bottle so beautiful it might have been made of crystal instead of glass, and a tiny glass to drink from. In other circumstances, Damian would’ve felt bad about drinking something so obviously expensive, but at this point he was already embarrassed. He poured himself a small glass of the clear liquid and knocked it back.

  Damian quickly realized she wasn’t kidding when she said something stronger. It burned on the way down, and he shivered and made a sour face—then poured another. By his third, his skin was flushed, and he was starting to sweat.

  “Er, Damian—” Kat started, but Damian held out a hand.

  “I know, it’s strong. That’s my last. Just give me a moment.” As he promised her he knew what he was doing, he found a seat and sank into it. Kat watched him with curious fascination.

  Damian had always been something of a lightweight with a fast metabolism, and it was almost no time at all before he began to feel the buzzing at the edges of his fingers. When he stood and it felt like the action was delayed by a second, he knew he was buzzed enough for the skill. It was a newer skill for him, but he’d tested it out while he traveled. It seemed to give him skills based on a very particular pool. And one skill would almost certainly be selected given the specific criteria of his current circumstance.

  “[Aspect of the Chosen].”

  The voice of the Great Game whispered in his ear, sensing his intention.

  >Temporary Skill [Inebriated Grace] Granted!

  Damian immediately used the granted skill. “[Inebriated Grace]. Okay—let’s dance.”

  Kat urged him forward, and Damian practically glided across the distance between them. The skill really did feel like cheating. Like his body was made of some ethereal substance untouched by gravity and perfectly in tune with itself. His left hand found hers and his right hand rested just below her shoulder blade, and without a word they launched into the waltz Kat had been doing moments before.

  “Oh, you can dance,” Kat commented airily as they moved back and forth across the room in sweeping circles.

  Damian blushed but held his tongue. In truth, he really had to focus on moving with her. The skill helped, but he was still growing increasingly tipsy—he might’ve overestimated how much alcohol he’d needed. As they continued to move in time with each other, Kat’s face brightened more and more until she was practically glowing, laughing as she fell backward into a bow and Damian scrambled to catch her, sweeping her in a circle so low her head nearly scraped the floor before he spun her upright again.

  They separated, both panting for air, and the princess fixed her hair. “Do you know how to dance a Mazurka?”

  “No,” Damian answered honestly.

  Kat smiled, eyeing him with mischief in her gaze. “Anton! Can you demonstrate a Mazurka? I’m curious if Mr. Bekham can jump in as easily as with a waltz.”

  Anton bowed and set his instrument aside, joining the princess on the dance floor. For his part, Damian half-staggered over to a table and leaned against it. When he was standing under his own power, he couldn’t help but sway in place. He’d definitely had a little too much.

  The princess and her instructor began to move in a slower, more precise dance. It involved arm movements and kicks and had far less physical contact between the partners. Hands rested over each other as they pranced back and forth, kicking out their legs in sync. Every now and then they’d break apart, stacking their arms in front of their chests and flipping their elbows up one way, then the other—accentuated by a kick.

  There was a pattern that repeated three times, and at the end of each set they came together briefly, Anton supporting the princess as she leapt up and kicked one leg out, spinning halfway around him before landing again. Three times she jumped, and then they separated to do their individual dances, occasionally joining again with only the resting of one hand over the other.

  When the dance ended, both partners bowed to each other, and then Kat turned to Damian with a fiery smile. “So? Think you can do it?”

  “I only watched him do it once,” Damian protested. His ears were already burning with embarrassment.

  “Oh, just give it a try,” Kat insisted, walking up to grab his hand and pull him back onto the dance floor.

  Damian caught Anton smirking as he walked past to return to his instrument. His fingers danced over the strings of the gusli, and the melody built for a few moments before Kat sprang into movement. Even slightly behind, Damian quickly adjusted and fell into time. At first, he struggled, missing beats and keeping his eyes locked on Kat to take cues from her. When they came together at the end of the first set, he almost missed her when she leapt at him, which would’ve ended terribly.

  But he didn’t, and three times he spun her around him before they separated again to dance on their own. The second time, he didn’t give Kat a death stare but still stumbled a few times. Halfway through the second individual portion of the dance, he heard Anton mumble a few words: “[Inspiring Melody], [Follow the Tune].”

  Suddenly, what little mistakes Damian was making were smoothed out. His feet fell into place, and he never forgot which elbow went up first again. When they came together, Damian was ready for Kat the instant she was ready for him, and when they touched, it was like the broken halves of a ceramic piece fitting perfectly back together. By the time they made it to the final cycle, Damian had the dance down to a rhythm, landing every movement nearly perfectly.

  When Kat leapt at him again and he caught her to spin her, she locked eyes with him. What was only a few seconds hoisting her up and down stretched into what felt like forever, and Damian realized how pretty her purple eyes were. For the third time in his life, he realized the person he was dancing with was staggeringly beautiful.

  He had to stop this.

  When he set Kat down, he quickly turned away, ears and face burning. For a moment it was only the sound of their heavy breathing, but it was soon broken by clapping. Damian looked up and saw Anton had stood and was clapping in his direction.

  He gave Damian a small bow, rising with a smile. “Good sir, I dare say you might be especially gifted at dance. You impress this old [Musician]—bravo!”