“And," said the Keeper, his eyes cold. "You are never to refuse me another dance again.”

“One last dance, my lady, before I am never to see you again?”

“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!”

“One day, my lady." said Mr. Keeper, stepping aside and allowing her to join them, "I should hope I would be fortunate enough to see such a graceful, unearthly curtsy from you again.”

“Keeper," Bramble said in a syrupy voice, grinning. "Have you met anyone so blasted handsome?""Hush," said Azalea through her teeth. "He can probably hear you!""And so dashing," said Bramble, though her tone was a touch lower."And so perfect.""I've never seen anyone with such...fingers," said Goldenrod.Everyone paused."Well, yes, his fingers, too," said Bramble.”

“I will tell you about the lady I loved."The girls settled together on the entrance steps, not even breathing, for fear it would rustle the rosebushes about them and mask Mr. Keeper's words. Mr. Keeper stood unmoving on the dance floor."Once upon a time," he said. His voice dripped in silk strands. "There was a High King, who wanted more than anything to kill the Captain General who incited a rebellion against him. It consumed him. The desire to kill the Captain General filled him to his core, and he spent every breath, every step, thinking of ways to murder the Captain General."But he was old, and time passed, as it always does."Mr. Keeper paused. Bramble cast a slightly bemused glance at Azalea, her eyebrow arched."So," Mr. Keeper continued, "he took an oath. He filled a wine flute to the brim with blood. And he swore, on that blood, to kill the Wentworth General, and that he would not die until he did."And then, he drank it."The end."There was a very ugly, naked silence after that. The girls' mouths gaped in perfect Os."Sorry?" said Delphinium. "I missed the part about the lady?""Ah," said Mr. Keeper. "The blood. It was hers.”

“The King smoothed the blanket on Thackeray's back. He opened his mouth, and shut it. Then he opened it again, and after a moment, said, "You used to call me Papa, do you remember that?"The question took Azalea back."No," she said.”