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Especially the Queen, with Raphael at her side.

Thierry led me over to greet her. Jehanne was wearing a gown of ivory silk. A coronet of pearls was threaded through her silver-gilt hair and a choker of pale blue topaz winked around her slender throat. Raphael's gift. She looked as beautiful and ethereal as moonlight on new-fallen snow.

I made my greeting and curtsied. "This is all very wonderful. Thank you, your majesty."

"This is a mere trifle." She waved one dismissive hand. "Is it your first?"

"It is."

Jehanne studied me, frowning a little. Another time, her scrutiny would have discomfited me, but I was too weary tonight. "Well. Enjoy yourself."

I curtsied again. "My thanks."

The musicians began to play as Thierry led me away. Everyone watched the Queen, waiting for their cue to take to the dance floor. "That was surprisingly civil," Thierry remarked. "It's all over the City how you saved Sister Marianne's life at the Temple of Eisheth. I'd expected Jehanne to be in a snit over it."

"Oh, well." I shrugged. "Mayhap even her majesty has her limits."

"Mayhap." He sounded doubtful.

We watched Raphael bow and extend his arm to the Queen, escorting her onto the dance floor. He wore a dark brown velvet doublet over fawn-colored breeches, an ivory shirt with a ruffled collar, and cuffs that matched the hue of her gown.

They danced very well together.

They looked lovely together.

Thierry bowed to me. "Are you ready for your first lesson, my lady?"

"Yes, please."

On the floor, I did as he told me—one hand clasped in his, the other resting on his waist. I followed his lead, letting him guide my steps with subtle pressure. As I had suspected, I liked dancing very much. I liked the way we swirled and glided over the floor together, each couple in their own private orbit, instinctively avoiding all others. I thought it must be something like the way the stars and planets moved in their dance, the way everything in the cosmos moved together at once, stately and graceful, never colliding.

Still, it made me a little dizzy.

And more tired.

I danced three times with Thierry, then Marc de Thibideau begged a dance of me. He wasn't nearly as skillful a partner and I tripped over his feet.

"I'm sorry, my lady." He flushed. "It's thanks to you I'm able to dance at all."

"And Raphael," I reminded him.

Marc shook his head. "Without you, he's just another physician."

I thought of the first time Raphael had kissed me, the first time I'd felt my gift intertwine with his. Of Raphael tending to me on the street after his carriage had struck me. Of my aching ribcage and the glorious warmth of his touch dispelling the pain, putting things back in place. "That's not true."

He shrugged. "It's true for me."

There were others, then—too many others. Two or three I didn't know by name. Denis de Toluard, surprising me.

"I thought you were angry at me," I said to him.

His eyes were grave. "I'm hoping you'll reconsider."

Out of the corners of my eyes, I saw trailing flashes of light, candle-flames blurring in my weary vision as Denis spun me into an expert turn. "I won't."

When the song ended, he bowed. "Still. Think on it."

And then Balthasar Shahrizai. He held me close, too close, his hand on my lower back, pressing me to him. I could feel his arousal and tried to pull away. He only pulled me closer.

"Have you no shame?" I asked him.

Balthasar laughed. "You don't know much about House Shahrizai, do you?"

"No," I admitted. "And I'm not sure I'm eager to learn more."

I wished Raphael would claim a dance of me, but he didn't. I was grateful when Thierry reclaimed me, and even more grateful when the music came to a halt. There was a banquet table laid at the far end of the hall. Servants were filing in and out with covered dishes. Jehanne clapped her hands together and proclaimed it time to dine. The musicians resumed playing at softer volume.

The hall spun around me.

"Moirin?" Thierry's hand was beneath my elbow. "Are you all right?"

"Fine." I blinked at him. "I'm fine."