He grabbed her by the arm, guiding her along as he set course for the open doorways in the back of the room. The outside was pleasant and the light from the crystals was dimmed enough to allow some feeling of privacy for the meandering couples. Ezeas quickly led her to an area cordoned off by tall bushes with dark burgundy leaves, neatly trimmed and well kept. A corner which allowed a slim view over the rest of the gardens seemed sufficiently secluded; as soon as they reached it, he dropped his hold on her and stopped. She kept her chin up, waiting patiently for the scolding to begin.

“I struggle to find any reason justifying your blatant dismissal of my instructions not to attend. Perhaps you would be so kind as to explain the matter?”

His voice was glacial, and there was an unmistakable current of fury beneath the surface.

“I wanted to prove you wrong,” she said with a hint of smugness.

“You were adamant I couldn't possibly act like anything but some street urchin. I dare say I subverted your expectations.”

He clenched his jaw.

“You think, simply because you got lucky with Ivál, your presence won't constitute a problem?”

She laughed, mirthlessly, and it seemed to catch him by surprise.

“'Lucky'? Trust me, there was little luck involved.”

She gestured towards the manor.

“No matter where you go in the world, vanity and pride can be found in abundance among the rich and notable. Using those feelings can open a great many doors for someone who's not above playing their game.”

“And you consider yourself qualified to do so?”

“It was what I was raised to do.”

He appeared skeptical, and she elaborated.

“I was taught to flatter and manipulate those above me, make them want to help me, be around me and even want me.”

She smirked in self-satisfaction.

“You better believe I was damn good at it, too. And I loved it.”

“You risked coming here, simply to relive your glory years?”

She cocked her head at him.

“What risk? Being humiliated is neither foreign nor particularly frightening to me.”

He stepped close, grabbing her arm.

“Did it not occur to you that I may have an excellent reason to keep you away?”

She met his fierce gaze.

“How could it? You expect me to read the reasons you didn't voice?”

He let go of her and turned his back, groaning in frustration.

“Mia za'ora, indeed,” he growled, his voice laced with disdain.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

He did not turn when answering.

“It has many translations, depending on the person using it and the circumstances. As things are now, the closest term in your language would be 'my tragic burden'.”

She rolled her eyes.

“How flattering.”

He finally faced her, smirking.

“Were you hoping for something more romantic?”

“Obviously.”

The answer seemed to be unexpected, and for a moment he said nothing. Saelina shrugged.

“I want you to be wrong about me and if you were to admit falling in love with me as well, the victory would be that much sweeter. But truth be told, you know my prospects are poor to put it gently. I could do a lot worse than a foreign noble family.”

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He lifted an eyebrow.

“If you feel that confident in your skills, try. Though I warn you, I will not make it easy.”

She scoffed.

“Don't be absurd. It was a notion, nothing more.”

He took a step closer, his smirk still in place.

“Oh? You seemed so sure of yourself, only a moment ago.”

She decided to prove a point and stepped closer as well.

“My dear Essy,” she started in a sweet tone, “everything I do, everything I show under circumstances such as these is a carefully constructed facade, a persona taught to me to secure my future.”

She took another step, bringing her within inches of him as she kept her eyes locked with his. Her heart was beating fast, but her mind was clear, and she ignored the undercurrent of nervousness and intimidation. It was harder to ignore the distinct sensation of being in such close proximity with a man, a handsome man who wasn't Callum.

“My confidence is an act, but it's one that I've learned to perfect and use to my every advantage.”

He observed her for a moment. His dark eyes seemed to study her more curiously, as if he noticed something new. The look in that gaze sent waves of heat through her body and she focused her attention on keeping her breathing in check.

“You're admitting to feeling insecure?”

She let out a breath and broke eye contact, but her heartbeat was not as easily quieted.

“More than I would ordinarily care to acknowledge. It's been years since I walked among those of wealth and status; fortunately, Lacille Lavenna's teachings are not easily forgotten.”

She took a few steps back and breathed deeply before straightening herself up again.

“Why are you so focused on my opinion of you?” Ezeas asked.

“Shouldn't it be obvious? More than once I have found and probably will find my life in your hands. Whether or not I care for it, your opinion about me matters.”

He shook his head.

“I wouldn't sacrifice you for such a petty reason as dislike.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him. He gazed back stubbornly for a few moments, then sighed.

“But how would you know that to be true?”

She let her arms fall to her side.

“What I believe won't matter, in the end. I'm simply trying to increase my chances of survival.”

He nodded, then pinched the bridge of his nose in contemplation. Whatever conclusion he arrived at seemed to compel him to speak.

“There are people who want to hurt you. They believe you've stolen something which rightfully belongs to the nyxan people. I feared that letting you attend this ball would be dangling bait in front of the dissidents.”

She absorbed the revelation and once again, kept her facade in place, while her thoughts were racing, trying to quell the rising panic. Instead of revealing anything, she nodded.

“Well, I am here now. So, how about you offer me your arm and escort me back inside? I would like to enjoy a dance or two before the evening ends.”

He gazed at her, seemingly trying to read beyond the surface; she met his eyes, determined not to reveal the concern she battled. Finally, he bowed and reached an arm out, which she gracefully accepted. The pair walked through the gardens and she took the time to admire the well-kept moss, which glowed softly green in the night light.

Flowers of pale pink and lavender swayed gently along the edges of the mossy areas, pushed and pulled by the sighs of a small breeze. Other couples huddled together in the shadows; seeing people enjoy the early stages of courtship caused a sense of envy within Saelina. She remembered the feelings all too well, but they were now marred by the aftermath and all that was left in its wake were anger and a desire for revenge. She knew it might take years, but she could be patient. The image of the black tower burning to the ground was often the only thing which made her rise again, when she was knocked down.

Entering the building, she left her darker thoughts outside in the shadows and took a gander at the surrounding people, chatting merrily and dragging each other to the floor. Ezeas led her there before spinning her elegantly in front of him as he placed a hand on her lower back and grabbed her hand with the other. She stared at him and he shrugged.

“You're my charge. It would seem odd if I didn't dance a single dance with you.”

“You don't seem the type to enjoy dancing,” she noted.

“I'm not. That doesn't mean I can't, when the situation calls for it,” he answered as he gracefully spun her around before bringing her close again.

For a moment, she wondered how she would keep up with the strange dances of the Islasan people, but to her surprise, her escort started leading her through the steps of a well-known Lissónese waltz. His smug expression at her surprise made her chuckle, and she allowed herself to be swept up in the soft music. Ezeas was a capable dancer, and he led her adeptly through the movements.

“I could get used to this,” she muttered as the dance ended.

“You'll have to lower your expectations,” Ezeas answered, his voice taut.

Saelina glanced around and noticed a nervous energy permeate the room. Before she could properly grasp what people were getting agitated about, Tiyala found her way to the pair.

“You need to find a way out of here.”

“What's going on?” Ezeas asked.

“A group of traditionalists arrived a few minutes ago. They demand an introduction.”

“Sir Ivál won't meet with them?”

Saelina was baffled by the brazen display of hostility. In Lissón, no one would have dared to be so outright rude.

“They're not here to see Ivál,” Ezeas explained, through clenched teeth.

“They want you.”