4.2 The Ball

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THE BALL

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THE BALL

A soft symphony rumbled in the far end of the room, reaching each of us with a sweet lull as the Philharmonic Orchestra started playing, engulfing the entire room with appealing hums

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A soft symphony rumbled in the far end of the room, reaching each of us with a sweet lull as the Philharmonic Orchestra started playing, engulfing the entire room with appealing hums.

Father held my hand high as we strode our way to the middle of the ballroom, the crowd parting like waves, allowing us to reach the midst of the dancing floor. One hand on my waist, the other holding mine, Father and I started dancing, the music bathing the place like a casted charm. Harmonious and contagious, pulling us deeper, our bodies swaying subliminally with the rhythm. Golden lights glided around, wrapping us in a glowing mist. Showers of sparkling dust were thrown above our heads, falling like shimmering stars from the hands of the flying naiads that spread high above, possibly as high as the towers of the castle.

And the more we danced, the more the beat became intense, echoing with the thud of heels and shoes as the noble families entered the dance, breaking from their endless-looking salute. I could see no clear face as I swayed, one hand on my father's nape, the other holding his, but I knew how they were spread. One to our north, to the east, and another to the west.

Yet another tradition.

The music was soft and, at the same time, intense, carrying lines and lines of promising messages between each note. Promises and messages about a greater tomorrow. About a better life and fearless nights. And as easily as the music flowed, so did my steps.

The cadence escalated with such power, nourishing the euphory in the air, prompting us to move faster, steadier, sturdier. For a moment, his eyes locked with mine, smoldering emeralds glinting with joy. A slight smile lifted his lips as the hand on my waist tugged me tighter. And I knew what would follow.

Progressively, the distance between us increased until the song reached its climax. And as it did, our movements came to a sudden halt before Father made me twirl, my skirt opening and flaring as white flames sparked from the hemline. Soon, those sparks swallowed the entire fabric until below my waist, growing in light the more I spun. The beat ever so subtly calmed, and I gyrated again. Once, twice, thrice, before we moved forward, facing the future Lord and lady of Nevora. The King's arm was already snaked around my waist, supporting my posture as we lowered into a half bow, the couple in front of us mirroring our actions. And as we did so, the whiteness of Father's tunic and my dress vanished and was replaced by a fierce red. Cheers echoed hard and wide.

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