Isole's hand felt small and cold in his. As she stood, the whispers from the surrounding nobles grew into a low roar of gossip. The Saintess's daughter, a girl they had spent years ignoring as a defect, was being led to the center of the floor by the most controversial student in the academy.
Vane led her to the polished marble, his heart thumping against his ribs. He had fought monsters that could swallow him whole, but the prospect of moving in time to a three-four beat was currently more terrifying. He placed his right hand on her waist and took her other hand in his, trying to remember everything Valerica had shouted at him during their training sessions.
'One, two, three. One, two, three,' Vane repeated the mantra in his head.
The music swelled. Vane stepped forward, and Isole mirrored him. He was stiff, his movements carrying the rigid precision of a soldier rather than the grace of a dancer. He nearly stepped on the hem of her lavender dress within the first ten seconds.
