“A young Captain Bradford is waiting for you in the ballroom.He's spent many hours filling out parliamentary paperwork,as well as a lengthy wait for parliamentary approval,before I would allow him to see you."The full meaning of this sank into Azalea's mind, and she fairly leaped up the stairs,giddy to her center.”

“When I saw you at the graveyard, looking so white, I knew something was wrong. I knew it."Azalea stared at him, the fire flickering highlights in his eyes."So...I thought I should do something," he finished lamely."You saw everything?"Mr. Bradford gave a half of a crooked smile. "I did knock.""You didn't see Mr...Mr.-""Mr. Keeper?" Mr. Bradford spat the name. "Oh yes, I saw Mr. Keeper. Rather hard not to. I saw him try to kiss you. Or what he said was a kiss. I want to snap his head off!"Azalea had her hand over her mouth, shocked that someone as solemn and dignified as Mr. Bradford could have such venom. He took her hands, gently, and pushed up her sleeved, revealing her swollen wrists. His fringers traced the bruises."You stopped him," said Azalea. She bowed her head, shy. "You kept him from-from-""Ah, yes, my lady!" Mr. Bradford smiled a crooked smile in full. "His ponytail was simply begging to be yanked.”

“I still have your handkerchief, from the Yuletide.""Raspberries, do you really?"He produced a crumpled, clean handkerchief, and gave it to Azalea. She tried to hand him the watch, but he wouldn't take it."It's still for ransom, is it not?" he said. "I'll collect it when I set the tower again."Azalea smiled, warmth rising to her cheeks. "Well, it has been awfully useful. Thank you, Lord Bradford."He mounted with ease, even with the books, and smiled a crooked smile."Mr. Bradford," he said sheepishly."Mr. Bradford," said Azalea. And now, her cheeks burned. It wasn't unpleasant."Thank you," he said, tipping his hat. "For the pleasant evening.”

“Ah,Azalea," said the King. "He's not going to be the one proposing."The springs in Azalea's feet went poioioing."Sorry?" she said."You outrank him, you know." The King shifted, uncomfortable. "It would be highly inappropriate for him to propose to you. The Delchastrian queen had to propose-""I will do no such thing!" said Azalea."Azalea," said the King in a firmer tone. "Come now, follow the rules. Besides, it is your chance to have the final say,is it not?""I always have the final say!" said Azalea. "How horrifically unromantic!""Well,do you want me to send him away?""No!Don't do that!”

“Ah, Azalea," said the King. "He's not going to be the one proposing."The springs in Azalea's feet went poioioing."Sorry?" she said."You outrank him, you know." The King shifted, uncomfortable. "It would be highly inappropriate for him to propose to you. The Delchastrian queen had to propose-""I will do no such thing!" said Azalea.”

“He was shockingly easy to follow. The pressure of his hand, the step of his foot, the angle of his frame... it was like reading his mind. When he leaned right, they turned in perfect unison. He swept her across the gallery in a quick three, a dizzying pace. Gilded frames and glass cases and the window blurred in her vision, and Azalea spun out, her skirts pulling and poofing around her, before he caught her and brought her back into dance position. She could almost hear music playing, swelling inside of her.Mother had once told her about this perfect twining into one. She called it interweave, and said it was hard to do, for it took the perfect matching of the partners’ strengths to overshadow each other’s weaknesses, meshing into one glorious dance. Azalea felt the giddiness of being locked in not a pairing, but a dance. So starkly different than dancing with Keeper. Never that horrid feeling that she owed him something; no holding her breath, wishing for the dance to end. Now, spinning from Mr. Bradford’s hand, her eyes closed, spinning back and feeling him catch her, she felt the thrill of the dance, of being matched, flow through her.”Heavens, you’re good!” said Azalea, breathless.”You’re stupendous,” said Mr. Bradford, just as breathless. “It’s like dancing with a top!”

“Mr. Bradford," she said. "I'm not going to propose to you."The twinkle in Mr. Bradford's eyes faded. So did his smile. He managed to keep it on his face. It looked painful."Oh," he said."Mr. Bradford?""Yes?""Would you mind it so very much if...you know...you proposed to me?"The light in Mr. Bradford's eyes jumped to life. He beamed so largely it almost wasn't crooked."If you want.”