“That was terrible, and two, three!”
“I know there is something you are supposed to be doing right now,” said Rory in a singsong voice. Phillip had just entered the clearing where they usually picniced. He was obviously escaping his duties at the castle because that morning Rory had been told, in no uncertain terms, that the prince would be too busy to accompany her on their usual trip to the forest.
“Weren’t you supposed to be attending a dance lesson this afternoon, My Lord Prince?” Rory tucked her feet under herself to make room for the sooking prince on her blanket. “You wouldn’t be ditching, would you?”
Rory was deviously delighted. Phillip, who wouldn't even walk on water for an hour after eating, snuck out of the castle against his father’s direct orders. This had to be the first time she’d ever seen him break a rule. Perhaps she was a bad influence on him.
“Shush, you little terror.” Phillip made a swipe for her hair which she ducked. She refuse to soften her thrilled grin, wiggling like a puppy on their small picnic blanket. A smile threatened to break through Phillip’s annoyed frown when he saw the expression on his best friend’s face.
“I find my lessons tedious at times,” he admitted. Rory snorted in disbelief. She’d seen pour over historical texts for hours without moving and sit attentively through numerous lengthy royal speeches. She hardly believed that he was weary of school.
“Are you escaping your lessons or are you escaping your dance lessons?” Rory rose her eyebrows at the boy who wouldn't look up from his hands. He mumbled something unintelligible.
“What was that?”
“Dance lessons,” Phillip said a bit louder. He suddenly threw himself on his back on the grass, spreading his arms out beside him. “My teacher is boorish, the music is dull and dancing is useless.”
Rory laughed, seeing his complaints for what he really meant.
“You are no good at it!” she declared. “Something doesn't come naturally to you for the first time ever so you are just going to give up.”
“That’s not it, I just have a bad teacher.” Phillip sulked.
“I bet you have two left feet!” This was even better that Phillip ditching class!
She lay down beside him, resting her head on his outstretched arm and looking up at his glowering face with a cheshire grin.
“I could teach you,” she offered. He glanced down at her, his sulking momentarily disrupted by incredulity.
“You know how to dance?”
Rory got up from her place beside him and brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt.
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“Of course,” she said. “I have lessons just like you; dancing, singing, piano.” She made a dramatic twirl, sinking into an exaggerated but surprisingly graceful curtsy. “I am a very accomplished young woman.” She pretended to flutter a fan in front of her face and simpered outrageously.
“You have dirt on your cheek,” Phillip said dryly. She scrubbed the side of her face with her sleeve and shot him a look full of venom. Phillip declined to mention that it was her other cheek that was streaked with dust.
“Get up, delinquent.” She pulled on his arm until he reluctantly rose. “This is what you get for skipping class. We are going to dance!”
Rory began spinning around him. Using his reluctant arm for support and flicking her skirt about in dramatised flares. Phillip couldn’t help but laugh at her antics.
She pulled him around in a circle by his belt loop and stepped in close to him.
“Hands go here and here,” she directed, adjusting his stance and prodding his arms into some semblance of the correct position. She took his hands and began shoving him into a turn by angling her hips and tugging him by their clasped hands until he began moving in the right direction. She hummed a waltz and launched right into a bewildering pattern of steps, letting Phillip stumble after her.
Apparently Rory believe the best way to learn was by doing. She didn’t bother to explain the steps, just bullied Phillip into doing them.
“Wrong foot,” she said cheerfully in the tune of the waltz she’d been humming. “That was terrible, and two, three!”
They laughed and spun around the little clearing.
“Good, and step. Get, ready, to twirl, two, three.”
Phillip gradually became more confident. He still occasionally stumbled but it wasn’t necessary for Rory to wrench him in the right direction or continually jerk him around. He drew her closer when his dancing became more fluid and her eyes slid shut as she lost herself in the movement.
She continued to hum a lilting waltz and Phillip plunged her into an outrageous dip that would never have been seen in court. She giggled girlishly.
“Don’t drop me, you dope.” Phillip immediately loosened his grip threateningly and sent her wobbling towards the ground. She grasped his collar and laughed louder.
“Don’t give me any ideas,” he said, jerking her again.
He pulled her up and spun her in one last slow twirl. She sunk into a graceful curtsey, still grasping his hand. He bowed formally, as if they really were at court. For a second they just stared at each other, hands clasped.
Then they burst into helpless laughter.