“Left foot, Ryn! Left!” the instructor barked.

  “I am using my left!” Ryn shot back, only to earn a sharp glare as the teacher winced again.

  “That’s your right,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

  Ryn blinked down at his feet. “...They’re the same shape!”

  Ariel groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “At this rate, you'll enter the ball in splints.”

  Despite her exasperation, a snort of laughter escaped her when Ryn nearly toppled the teacher down with an overzealous spin. Ryn grumbled something about “pointless noble rituals,” and that was when Ariel finally broke into full laughter.

  Her laughter only grew brighter with each failed step, until finally she couldn’t resist.

  “Honestly, Ryn, I’ve seen toddlers balance better.”

  She teased, Ryn straightened, dusting off his sleeve with as much dignity as he could muster.

  “Glad to know my suffering is entertaining, Your Highness.”

  “It is,” she admitted without shame, grinning wide. Then her tone tilted slyly.

  “But considering the ball is only a few days away… if you can’t learn to dance by then, I might just have to find another partner.”

  Ryn gave her a flat look. “Another partner? Good luck finding someone who can both protect you and dance.”

  Ariel smirked. “True. But maybe they’d at least know their left from their right.”

  “That’s debatable. I still think your instructor is out to get me. She keeps switching them on purpose.”

  Ariel let out a sharp laugh. “Oh yes, the grand conspiracy of nobles and dance teachers. Clearly, the fate of Solvara hinges on making you spin in circles until you collapse.”

  Ryn muttered, “It wouldn't be the strangest plan I’ve seen against me lately.”

  She tilted her head, a grin softening just a little. “You know, you could always just relax. Dancing isn’t about memorizing every step; it’s about moving with the music. It’s easier when you stop thinking so hard and trust your partner.”

  Ryn sighed, defeated.

  “But at least you’re improving in other aspects,” she said, folding her arms.

  Ryn raised a brow.

  “The fact you can now greet a duke without sounding like you’re issuing a challenge,” Ariel said, lips twitching,

  Ryn tilted his head. “Progress, then. Though I still think most of them deserve a challenge.”

  Her eyes glinted knowingly. “Oh, I don’t disagree. But diplomacy frowns on duels every time someone looks at you wrong.”

  “Shame,” Ryn muttered, adjusting his sleeve. “That’s the only part of noble etiquette I’d excel at.”

  Ariel sighed, shaking her head. “Well, at least I won’t have to worry about you being completely hopeless at the ball. Only… mostly hopeless.”

  “Thanks, Your Highness,” he said dryly. “Your confidence is inspiring.”

  For once, neither of them seemed to care that the instructor was despairing in the corner.

  As their final lesson ended, Ryn lingered instead of heading straight for the door. He cleared his throat and said, “Lilia wants us at the courtyard today, at dusk.”

  Ariel blinked. “Lilia? Why?”

  “Apparently…” Ryn scratched the back of his neck, looking less than convinced, “…it’s a surprise.”

  Ariel froze. Her lips parted, then closed again as her brows drew together. She had known Lilia for nearly her whole life; they had practically grown up together, and in all that time, she could not recall her ever once using the word surprise and that, that was… worrying.

  ‘This can’t be good’. Then, with a nervous glance toward Ryn, she added, “Oh gods, what is she planning?”

  Ryn only shrugged.

  ***

  That evening, Ariel made her way toward the maids’ quarters. The moment she stepped inside, every gaze seemed to turn her way. Dozens of eyes, bright with loyalty and affection, followed her as if some jeweled ornament had suddenly come to life and walked among them. The attention pressed in close, and though she wore her usual confident smile, it left her faintly uneasy.

  One of the maids hurried forward, bowing quickly. “Your Highness, can we help you with something?”

  “Yes,” Ariel replied, her tone clipped but polite. “I’m looking for my maid. Lilia, have you seen her?”

  “Ah, of course,” the older maid replied with a brisk nod. Then, without a moment’s restraint, she drew in a breath and bellowed, “LILIAAA!”

  The call thundered down the corridor, making Ariel flinch at the sheer volume. Several younger maids nearly jumped out of their shoes, scattering like startled birds as the echo rolled through the quarters.

  However, even with the thunderous boom of the older maid shouting her name, Ariel never caught the familiar bob of Lilia’s silver hair.

  I guess I really do have to go to the courtyard, she thought, already dreading what “surprise” meant in Lilia’s vocabulary.

  When no reply came, the older maid turned back to her, wringing her hands nervously. “It seems she’s not here, Your Majesty. Shall I fetch someone else?”

  “I told you she wouldn’t be here.”

  The voice came from behind.

  The maid froze, then slowly turned, only to find herself staring at Ryn, back against the wall in the doorway with his usual dead-eyed stare.

  The effect was immediate. Three of the younger maids shrieked. One dropped a tray. Another tripped over her own skirt. The older maid made a noise that was half-gasp, half-squeak, and clutched her chest like she’d seen a ghost.

  Ryn muttered something under his breath

  Ariel stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand

  “Honestly,” she said, wiping at her eyes, “if you ever get tired of being a knight, you could make a fortune haunting noble estates.”

  “Very funny,” Ryn muttered, staring half-heartedly at the scattering maids.

  Ariel smirked. “Alright then, Sir Knight, let’s go find out what Lilia’s ‘surprise’ really is.”

  She walked through the palace hallway, her steps light but purposeful as she led the way out of the quarters.

  The palace corridors stretched long and quiet in the fading glow of evening. Torches flickered along the stone walls, casting tall shadows that wavered with each step. Servants passed now and then, bowing quickly before slipping aside, their eyes darting curiously between the princess and the knight.

  Ariel smirked, her golden eyes glinting as the courtyard doors came into view. “I’m curious.”

  As they walked, her gaze shifted forward. “I’ve known Lilia for twelve years,” she murmured, almost to herself. “She never asks for anything.”

  Ryn glanced at her, brow furrowing. “So this is… unusual?”

  “More than unusual,” Ariel said softly. “If she actually wants something, then it must matter. A lot.”

  A solemn silence settled between them.

  By the time they arrived at the courtyard, the sun had already set. The courtyard lay quiet in the dark, lanterns casting soft pools of light across the stone, to both Ryn and Ariel's surprise. At the center, a low table had been set, simple but carefully arranged, with food, bread, fruit, and a pot of steaming tea.

  Lilia stood nearby, hands clutched tightly together, her expression nervous and her face mostly red.

  “You’ve both been under so much pressure,” Lilia began, her voice wavering as she pressed her index fingers together. “S-So I thought maybe… as your maid, and, um, your friend too… I should try to ease some of it. Even just a little.”

  Her eyes darted toward the meal she’d set on the table. “I-I didn’t think the kitchen staff would agree so easily, honestly. But… it seems no one dares question anything if it’s about Sir Ryn anymore. They just… nod and do it.”

  She gave a tiny, awkward laugh, her cheeks pink. “S-So… um… surprise”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Ariel was the first to move. A sharp laugh burst out of her, bright and unrestrained, echoing through the air.

  “This is what we were so scared about?” she managed between laughs.

  Her laughter softened into a smile, warmer now.“Gods, Lilia… you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  Her words carried their usual bite, but her laugh gentled at the edges, her golden eyes softening despite herself.

  Beside her, Ryn stood frozen, whether in awe or simple confusion, Ariel couldn’t tell.

  Seeing the maid fidget nervously, Ariel stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank you, Lilia. This is amazing.”

  Lilia’s eyes went wide, arms frozen at her sides. She let out a sharp breath, brow furrowing as if that might mask the redness creeping into her cheeks. “Princ—Ariel, please let go of me. It’s… really not a big deal. You’re the one going to the ball, not me.”

  Ariel only squeezed tighter, smirking against her shoulder. “All the more reason to thank you.”

  Lilia sputtered, finally trying to wiggle free. “I-I just… organized things, that’s all!”

  Ryn watched the two of them with his usual unreadable calm; however, a faint smile tugged at his lips.

  Lilia whipped her head toward him, noticing his faint smile, her face burned. “I-I said it’s nothing!” she snapped, her voice breaking halfway.

  Ariel laughed, finally letting her go.

  They settled at the table, the lantern light soft against the spread of bread, fruit, and steaming tea. Ariel leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, her eyes dancing as she tore a piece of bread.

  “Well,” she said, voice lilting with mischief, “I can’t say I ever expected to be invited to dine by my own maid. Should I be flattered?”

  Lilia poured tea into her cup without lifting her gaze. “I-I didn’t do this for flattery. So… please just eat.”

  Her hands hesitated on the teapot, then she added in a smaller voice, “And don’t… don’t make fun of me for it either.”

  Ariel smirked.

  The meal passed with a strange, almost fragile warmth, Ariel’s teasing laughter filling the gaps, Lilia’s gentle voice weaving in between, and Ryn’s rare words. For once, the weight of the palace seemed far away.

  Ariel was sipping her tea while Lilia nibbled nervously at a slice of fruit. Ryn sat opposite them, composed as ever, though the faint stiffness in his shoulders betrayed how unused he was to such company.

  The talk wandered from the weather to the latest rumors about the court musicians, then to the endless duties of the palace servants. Ariel had a sharp remark for each, her wit quick enough to make Lilia’s cheeks flush with embarrassment, though even she giggled behind her hand.

  It was in the middle of that laughter, when Ariel made a quip about nobles and their stiff manners, that Lilia’s eyes drifted toward Ryn. She hesitated, chewing her lip, before her voice slipped in, soft but pointed.

  “Ryn… you still struggle with your dance lessons, don’t you?”

  Ryn’s eyes flicked to her, his expression cracking. “That is… true.”

  Ariel’s face hardened, “True? You can barely walk to music, let alone dance. You’re hopeless, Ryn.”

  He exhaled slowly, the closest he came to a sigh. “I’m aware.”

  A subtle silence settled between the three of them

  Ariel leaned forward, golden eyes gleaming.

  “Well then, why waste time? We’re already here, the courtyard’s wide open. Let’s practice now.”

  Ryn’s brow furrowed, his teacup pausing midway back to its saucer. “…Now?”

  “Yes, now,” Ariel said, rising to her feet with a flourish. “We don’t have much time before the ball; better than humiliating yourself in front of both Solvara and Varghelm's company.”

  Lilia brought her hand to her lips. “This wasn't part of the plan…”

  She admitted softly. After a moment, her shoulders eased, and she added in a gentler tone,

  “But it's not a bad idea…”

  Ariel extended her hand toward Ryn, golden eyes gleaming. “On your feet, knight. This is as good a dance floor as any.”

  Ryn muttered under his breath as he rose,

  “Can't we just eat.”

  ***

  Ariel’s hand lingered in the air until Ryn reluctantly took it. His grip was firm, steady as ever, but stiff with hesitation.

  “Relax,” Ariel said with a smirk, tugging him closer. “You’re not dueling me. You don’t have to crush my fingers.”

  Lilia hovered nervously at the edge of the lantern light, wringing her hands. “I—I can clap the steps if that helps?”

  Ryn gave her a slow look, flat and heavy with doubt.

  Ariel laughed. “Ignore him, Lilia. Go on, give us a rhythm.”

  With those words, Lilia began to clap, the sound small at first, a timid pat-pat echoing in the courtyard. Then she steadied, her hands finding a faint, steady rhythm. One, two. One, two. The beat filled the air, simple but grounding.

  Ariel caught it immediately, her steps falling in time, graceful as ever. Ryns body, however, followed with precision but with no rhythm, each movement clipped and mechanical. Ariel arched her brow.

  “You move like you’re marching to an execution,” she said.

  one, two

  They moved again, Ariel guiding, Ryn resisting, their steps clashing until finally Ariel groaned.

  “You’re hopeless.”

  “Then this is pointless,” Ryn said, tone as calm as ever.

  “Not pointless,” Ariel shot back, tightening her hold on his hand and shoulder. “Better you stumble with me now than disgrace yourself in front of all nobility.”

  one, two

  They moved again, this time their steps falling into something resembling order. Ariel guided with ease, Lilia’s steady clapping marking the beat. For a moment, it seemed Ryn had found the rhythm, each step less rigid, less like marching and more like moving.

  Then Ryn misstepped, and his weight shifted too suddenly. Ariel felt the tug of a heartbeat before it happened and had to wrench herself upright, nearly toppling with him.

  “Ryn!” she hissed, yanking him back into balance. Her skirts swirled dangerously close to the lantern flames before settling.

  Ryn straightened at once, his grip firm, his expression slightly apologetic. “An accident.”

  From the edge of the courtyard, Lilia pressed her hands to her mouth, caught between a horrified gasp and a nervous giggle. She lowered them only long enough to stammer out,

  “Ryn… you have to trust her. Dancing isn’t… it isn’t something you do alone. Both partners have to trust each other.”

  one, two

  Ariel’s hand tightened around his, light but insistent, her golden eyes lifted to his with unshaken confidence. She wasn’t mocking him now. She was waiting.

  Ryn’s jaw set. He wasn’t here to fail her. She had already placed her life in his hands. If he couldn’t place this small trust in hers… then what kind of knight was he?

  And yet it didn’t feel small. Not to him.

  He drew in a slow breath, forcing his body to still. Just this once… just enough to match her step.

  He felt Ariel’s slender arm rest lightly on his shoulder, her hand slipping into his, cold to the touch, yet steady with confidence. For once, he allowed himself to believe in her rather than resist.

  Then, to the rhythm of Lilia’s soft claps, they began to move.

  The first step forward was careful, testing. Ariel drew him into a turn, her skirts sweeping across the stones like a tide. He nearly hesitated, but her guiding pull kept him steady. Left, right, pivot, each movement measured against the sound of Lilia’s clapping.

  One, two. One, two.

  Another step, smoother now. Ryn shifted his weight in time, his boots striking the floor with a firm, clean sound. Ariel pressed closer, guiding him into a side step. He followed, his body adjusting, his movements sharpening into something more precise.

  She spun beneath his arm, silver threads of her gown catching the lantern light. Ryn steadied her with a hand at her waist, and when she returned to face him, her golden eyes glinted with surprise.

  “Well, well,” she murmured, “Looks like you can move after all.”

  Ryn said nothing, his jaw set, but his steps flowed quicker now. Forward, back, half-turn. Ariel matched him beat for beat, the rhythm no longer hers alone but shared between them.

  Lilia’s claps grew faster, her excitement leaking into the rhythm. The tempo quickened—one-two, one-two, one-two! And still they moved, faster, smoother. Ariel laughed, not mocking but exhilarated, as Ryn guided her into another turn, this one sharper, almost daring.

  The lanterns flickered with their passing, shadows leaping as they cut across the courtyard. What began as clumsy practice had become something alive, steps striking sharper, spins carrying further, their movements bleeding together until the line between leader and follower blurred.

  For once, Ryn wasn’t resisting. He was moving, free, fluid, powerful, and Ariel matched him stride for stride.

  One two, One two, One two!

  The rhythm surged, Ariel’s laughter spilling into the night as Ryn’s movements drove them across the courtyard. Her skirts flared with each turn, lantern light glinting off her gold hair, and for once, his steps matched hers without falter.

  Ariel spun again beneath his arm, expecting the same steady catch at her hand, only this time, Ryn shifted his weight differently, guiding her momentum forward and down. In one smooth, instinctive motion, she found herself dipped low, his arm firm at her back, his other hand clasping hers with unshakable steadiness.

  For a breath, silence hung over the courtyard.

  Then Lilia gasped, clapping her hands together. “Ryn! That was… amazing!”

  Ariel blinked up at him, wide-eyed, before she muttered.

  “The dance teacher would collapse from joy if she saw you now.”

  Ryn straightened, helping her back to her feet, his face as flat as ever, but his expression slightly twisted.

  “…It wasn’t intentional.”

  Ariel smirked, brushing off her skirts. “Still… that was impressive, Ryn.”

  Ryn adjusted his sleeve, his voice even as ever. “It was a mistake in footing.”

  Lilia shook her head quickly, her silver hair bobbing. “N-no, I think it was wonderful! You looked like real dancers!” Her cheeks flushed as she added, “I almost forgot it was practice.”

  Ariel’s laughter rang bright in the courtyard, joined by Lilia’s softer giggle. For a while longer, they lingered there, trading light jabs and small smiles, the lanterns flickering as shadows stretched across the stone.

  Lilia looked at Ariel, her silver hair catching the lantern glow, and for the first time since the ball preparations began, she thought: she looks… happy. It was a rare sight, one she hoped would last.

  As Ariel laughed, the sound bright in the night air, she turned, half-expecting to see Ryn watching her, but instead his gaze was fixed on the scarred moon above, distant, unreadable. The lantern light brushed against his features.

  Her chest tightened, the thought cutting sharper than she expected. She still hadn’t said it. Not once. She still hadn’t apologized to Ryn for what she’d said, for what had happened almost a week ago. She half expected tension between them after what happened, after what she had said to him, but Ryn, as always, carried on as though nothing had, so neither had she.

  Her fingers curled at her side as she tore her eyes away from him. After the ball, she told herself. I’ll say it. I’ll apologize… for everything.

  The night deepened around them, the weight of the palace and its burdens forgotten, if only for a little while.

  The courtyard had fallen still, lanterns swaying faintly in the night breeze, their glow stretching long shadows across the stone. The echo of clapping and laughter faded, leaving only the hush of crickets and the faint rustle of silk as it settled back into stillness. For a moment, it felt as though the palace itself held its breath.

  Three figures lingered in the soft light, no titles, no burdens, only the quiet rhythm that remained between them.

  Overhead, the moon hung fractured and golden, its cracks glinting faintly.

  They all knew it wouldn’t last. But for tonight, it was enough.