“Are you all right?" he said.Water dripped down his face and long nose.He's talking to you! her mind yelled. He's talking to you! Say something clever! Say something clever!Azalea said, "Mffloscoflphus?""The water is rather cold," he said. He pulled her to the bank. Azalea chattered and shivered and coughed, and he continued asking her if she was all right. She wasn't.She was morbidly embarrassed,that's what she was.”

“He is writing a book," said the King, following them out into the sunny, crisp gardens. "About the gardens here. We have two of his books already. Library, north side, O. What say you, Miss Azalea? Does he pass that list of your sisters'?"Azalea cocked her head. Was the king actually teasing her?"He'll have to shave," she said, deciding to take his lead."And what," said the King, stroking his own close-trimmed beard, "is wrong with whiskers?"Azalea laughed, surprised at the King's uncharacteristic funning.”

“So suppose Azalea finds the sugar teeth after all," said Bramble, taking Azalea by the shoulders and spinning her. Azalea rolled her eyes but obliged, and let her feet turn beneath her. A lsight push, and Azalea spun to Delphinium."She breaks them," said Delphinium, catching Azalea and pushing her to Hollyhock in a spin, a ball with skirts."Snap!" said Hollyhock.Azalea flinched. Hollyhock fumbled to spin her to Bramble again."And in a burst of fireworks, he emerges from the passage! Burst!”

“Try it alone now," he said. "I taught you when you were six. You were a fine little rider then. Do you remember?""No!" said Azalea."You remembered how to ride last winter," said the King quietly. He had his arms crossed. "You rode very well, one night last winter, if I remember."The horse beneath Azalea shifted, and she clutched to keep her balance."That was nearly a year ago," she stammered."Some things are burned into one's memory."The King helped her down gently onto solid ground, and didn't say another word.”

“I'm so sorry we've kept this for such a long time," she said, pulling the watch from her skirt pocket. She unfolded Mother's handkerchief from around it, and offered it to Lord Bradford cradled in her hands. "We shouldn't have taken it in the first place."Lord Bradford's eyebrows rose at the offering, and he opened his mouth, then closed it. He lowered his eyes to the books in his hands, then back to Azalea, and he managed a smile."When we first met," he said, "ages ago, you gave me a candy stick. Just like you did now, with your hands like that. Do you remember?"Azalea raised an eyebrow."It happened when my father had just died," he said, quietly. "You came to the graveyard, licking a candy stick. You saw me. You put the stick in my hands, folded my fingers over it, and kissed my fingertips.""That must have been sticky," said Azalea.”

“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.”

“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!”