“Hello, ladies.” Falkor materialized out of the crowd.
Her sister turned and treated him to a syrupy smile. “Good evening, Your Highness,” she said with such exaggerated deference, she clearly meant the opposite.
“Good evening,” Kismet said. “Who is the woman in lavender?” But the woman had disappeared. She shrugged. “Never mind. She’s gone.”
“Where’s Jaryk?” Falkor frowned.
“He had something to attend to,” she replied.
A handsome man in a dark-green suit approached and bowed to Falkor. “Your Highness.” Then he looked at Karma. “Would you share this dance with me?”
She glanced at Kismet.
“Go. I’m fine.”
She beamed a bright smile. “I’d love to! Thank you.” She held out her hand; the man took it and led her onto the floor. The slow, graceful glide of moves had them circling each other while gradually closing in until they joined hands and twirled.
“Damn, she’s good!” Kismet observed. Her sister picked up dance steps even faster than she did.
Falkor glowered.
Karma happened to glance their way. Her gaze locked on the prince. Then she tilted her head and flashed a come-hither smile at her dance partner.
Falkor growled.
Kismet smothered a grin.Well, well, well.
The dance ended. Karma’s partner escorted her back and then kissed her knuckles. “We will dance again later?”
“I would like that.” She treated him to a sunny smile.
Falkor radiated animosity, and the man scurried away.
“That was a rather showy display.” Falkor’s lip curled.
“I’m here to dance, not sit on the sidelines.” She glanced at Kismet. “No offense.”
“I’ve already danced with Jaryk,” she replied.What is taking him so long?Should she stay? Or go and try to find him? “You two should dance,” she urged.
“I think not—” Karma said.
“She would not be a good partner.” Falkor sniffed.
“I would be an excellent partner. I’m a fine dancer!”
The musicians started up a faster number with a throbbing 4/4 accented rhythm.
Her twin and Jaryk’s brother moved onto the floor, neither able to resist a challenge. They clasped hands and launched into the dance moves. Their feet and bodies moved in perfect sync while their faces maintained a scowl. The way they glared at each other reminded her of the animosity of the glowering woman in lavender. Who was she, and why had she seemed so disapproving?She doesn’t even know me.
She happened to catch her sister’s eye and pantomimed she was going to look for Jaryk. Her sister flashed an okay sign and resumed scowling.
Kismet hugged the perimeter, avoiding the dancers. She accepted a couple of tidbits from a server and a goblet of spirits. She had no intention of drinking. Holding the glass made her feel less conspicuous, like she was doing something.My emotional-support goblet.
In the alcoves, couples and small groups sat, chatted, and nibbled in a more private setting.
Traversing the length of the ballroom, she saw no sign of Jaryk. Upon reaching the front, she hesitated to walk by the king and queen. Should she say hello? Normally, one would wait to be addressed.
Her question about what to do was settled when the queen beckoned her. “Are you enjoying the ball?”
