The Tiny Witch from the Deep Woods: Volume 2, page 24
“Once you’ve introduced yourself to the king, you will be free to go where you like. And I imagine being surrounded by your countrymen will likely be the most peaceful way to spend the evening,” Conan said with a bright smile, before stepping out of Misha’s line of sight to throw a sharp gaze into the crowd: implicit instructions for his students to be there at the right time. The greater the wall around Misha, the better. “I doubt there is anyone here stupid enough to be rude in front of the representative of a foreign nation.”
Misha and Kite exchanged a concerned glance.
What exactly were these rumors circling about her? What were the people thinking as they all stared at her?
I’m curious, but I’m not sure I actually want to know... she and Kite thought in unison as they waited for their turn to meet with the king.
“Thank you for your most generous invitation,” Misha’s escort said. He was a young man with dark hair, a rare feature in this part of Redford. His perfectly formulaic greeting indicated he was well educated, to the degree one would expect from nobility.
Ryan offered the young man a gracious nod. “You must have been quite busy doing the duke’s work these past few days. Tonight is an evening for relaxation. Please—eat, drink, and have fun.”
But even under the king’s analytical gaze, the young man’s bow was smooth and elegant, entirely unflinching.
His ability to be polite without excessive flattery struck a remarkable balance, one that Ryan could honestly appreciate. It seemed he understood his position as representative of the duke quite well. If he bowed too deeply, it would be degrading to Bluheitz as a vassal state of Redford. However, if he didn’t bow deeply enough, it would be a sign of disrespect toward the king and Redford as a whole.
He’s young, but he’s good. I almost wish I could keep him.
As he inwardly praised the young man, Ryan turned his gaze to the increasingly nervous Misha at his side. She had her hair tied up behind her head, and she was wearing light makeup, a little glitter at the corners of her eyes to draw attention to her most striking feature. The impact was incredible. It made anyone she locked eyes with feel like they were being swallowed up by them. The effect was only enhanced by the emerald necklace and earrings she wore. Those must have been the rumored mementos of her mother.
She has such a different aura when she dresses up, doesn’t she?
Ryan recalled the first time the two had met. She had been wearing dark clothes back then, but these lighter colors suited her just as well. Lalaya had been quite happy to boast about picking out the outfit personally, and Ryan had to hand it to her. She definitely had a strong grasp of Misha’s charm.
Glancing briefly to his side, he saw Lalaya beaming back at him smugly, dying to say something herself. It was like she was showing off her favorite doll. It took all he had not to sigh.
“Your outfit is quite stunning today, Miss Misha. I hope I can ask you for a dance later.”
As he complimented her with a smile, Misha gave him one of her own. “I would be honored.” That the request didn’t seem to shake her meant Lalaya must have warned her beforehand.
Thinking back to the time he poked his head in during her dance lessons, his smile widened. “Then I’ll look forward to it.”
The line of people waiting to greet him was still long, so he didn’t have much time to spend on each person. Catching the signal that they were finished, Misha’s escort gracefully guided her away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lalaya’s maid speaking to them, no doubt making additional arrangements for later. Impressed by Lalaya’s unexpected ingenuity, Ryan stared at her, and she shone a pleasant and composed expression upon him in response.
Since Lalaya usually refrained from participating in events like this, many of the nobility greeted her with a good deal of surprise when they came to introduce themselves. She wore a blue dress the same color as her eyes, and she now looked like the picture of good health, the best in years.
I really owe it to Misha.
Going through the rote formalities of the introductions, Ryan was smiling, thinking of his promised dance with her.
With the first wave of introductions complete, the ball began in earnest. As was custom, the first dance was centered around Ryan, everyone else standing aside to let the king have the honors. With no wife, let alone a fiancée, Ryan typically danced with a daughter of the high nobility, but because Lalaya was attending the ball this time, it was a brother-sister dance tonight.
Both of them were well accustomed to dancing, and so they put on a remarkable performance. Misha watched the pair as she allowed herself to relax among the company of her father’s personal knights and Conan’s subordinates. Surrounded by familiar faces as she was—though she sometimes got impolite looks from those she didn’t know—she had yet to be forced to speak with anyone else. It was a remarkably solid defensive formation.
“Lady Lalaya is such a good dancer.”
“The royal family is quite taken with the art. She spent many of her good days practicing in the past. She quite enjoyed the exercise, to the point she would get lost in it and collapse again, so it was a bit of one step forward, two steps back,” Conan explained, watching the princess dance as he might have his own granddaughter.
“I’m a little worried about her. Her symptoms of anemia seem to have died down, but the change in weather is causing her appetite to wane again,” Misha murmured as she watched the princess twirling beautifully, her dress fluttering in the air around her.
“It has been quite rainy, hot, and humid, hasn’t it? Lady Lalaya isn’t the only one fed up with the weather. Luckily, we have you around, so she is still making sure to eat the bare minimum. I don’t believe there is much cause to worry.” As Conan patted her encouragingly on the shoulder, the first song came to an end, prompting him to turn to Misha with a grin. “Perhaps an old man like me is not a fitting partner, but may I have this first dance?”
Her first dance would be when she had the most attention on her, so being her partner for that dance would be all but declaring he was personally backing her.
Misha replied to his dramatic invitation with a giggle, then pinched the edges of her skirt and gave him a formal curtsy. “I would be delighted. Please forgive me when I step on your feet.” She then let him guide her into the ring of dancers.
Conan’s lead was gentle and calm, giving her a sense of steadiness as she danced. Though she was stiff and awkward due to the tension of the circumstances, Conan began telling her funny stories of the noteworthy people they happened across as they danced, which helped to ease her nervousness.
“Good, good. Just enjoy the dance. Let your partner do all the work for you,” Conan said, advice that seemed somehow familiar. Before she knew it, the song had come to an end, and she found herself passed over to Kite. The next song began without delay, and the two of them slipped smoothly into it.
“Looks like you were having fun,” Kite said as they shared a smile.
“Yeah. Mr. Conan told me all sorts of stories while we were dancing,” she said with a giggle while executing a beautiful turn in his arms. The gradient colors of her skirt blossomed outward like a flower as she spun. Having grown up running around the forest, she was naturally nimble and agile, lending her steps and turns a floating, effortless look.
“I thought a ball would be much more nerve-racking, but it’s actually quite fun,” Misha said. The dance steps that had seemed so hard while she was practicing came naturally to her now. She had taken a particular liking to the turns, so Kite went out of his way to slip in a few extra. And as much as she laughed about being made dizzy, she was clearly having a great time.
Like a butterfly fluttering between flowers, Misha switched from partner to partner. While dancing, she didn’t have to worry about all the stares, instead enjoying the unique dancing styles of her various partners.
As expected, she found herself a bit worn-out after five consecutive dances, and so she retired to where Conan was waiting. Confused as to why Kite wasn’t there, she looked across the room to find him dancing with a young woman she didn’t know. The way she looked up at him, pulling herself closer to him as they danced, made it quite clear she was thoroughly enchanted.
“A daughter of one of my friends. Sir Kite looked a bit bored, so I had him invite her for a dance,” Conan explained as he handed Misha a drink.
Missing the somewhat excusatory tone of the explanation, Misha sipped on the drink as she watched the two dance. From this distance, he really did look like a young noble. In private, he was quite casual and quick to complain, but she couldn’t see any of that in him now.
“He really strikes me as more of a knight than a prince. Maybe because his movements are so crisp?” Misha commented, watching the way he spun and moved his feet.
Conan sighed quietly and thought, It seems she doesn’t quite understand what’s happening over there. Well, perhaps Kite doesn’t understand either.
Kite continued dancing with perfect precision, heedless of the passionate gazes of the young women all around him. Was he actually oblivious to those looks, or was he pointedly ignoring them?
As Misha enjoyed her glass of juice, a man stepped in front of her. “May I have this dance?”
Misha giggled, handing off the glass and taking the man’s hand before bowing. “It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty.”
As he led her to the dance floor, she got the sense that there was suddenly more space than there had been before. As one might have expected, the other guests were a bit more considerate when it came to making room for the king himself. As such, she and Ryan were able to dance without concern for the other participants of the ball.
“Looks like you’re having fun,” Ryan said.
“Yes, Sir Conan has been very considerate.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I struggled a bit to think of the best person to accompany you.”
Misha relaxed into Ryan’s usual style of leading—assertive and skilled. Over the past few songs, she had realized that relaxing made it easier to read her partner’s movements and follow appropriately.
“You’ve gotten quite a bit better,” Ryan complimented her, surprised at how quickly she was picking up on the slightest of clues. And then, like a child who had just come up with a brilliant new prank, he shifted into an unexpectedly complex step, pulling her tight to him.
Misha’s eyes widened, but she recognized the test for what it was, so she immediately abandoned the idea of thinking too hard. If she tried to reason out the next steps in her head, she’d never keep up with him. Instead, she focused on how his muscles moved—made easier by having been pulled against him—to predict where Ryan was trying to go.
As it became clear to the others that Ryan was leading her in a very complex routine, the other dancers made way, and soon the two of them were the only ones left dancing. But the pair was long gone, too absorbed in their own dance to notice.
There was no room to breathe between each step, no mercy in the turns, but there was nothing rough or coarse about the movements either. Each touch he made, from the tips of her fingers and toes to the gentle bends of her neck and back, were all done to accentuate the grace and refinement of every line of her body. There was no panic or disorder in how they moved. It was like the two danced with a single shared body. The crowd around them watched the performance, enchanted.
The few moments they danced together seemed to stretch on for eternity. But as with all things, the dance eventually came to an end. The musicians finished on a passionate final note, inspired by the dance in front of them, and the two struck a concluding pose.
The room was oddly quiet, the sound of the two dancers’ heavy breathing filling the air. And then the two separated, giving each other an elegant, respectful bow.
Only a moment later, the room erupted in riotous applause. Misha practically jumped, having forgotten where she was. As the realization she was still in a crowded dance hall dawned on her, she grew flustered.
Seeing her reaction, Ryan took Misha’s hand and bowed to the audience before leading her to where Lalaya was watching them. A few couches and sofas had been lined up behind a cloth screen, providing an opportunity for them to escape the attention of the crowd. It was a space they had set up for Lalaya, since she was so easily exhausted, so only the women of high noble status were invited inside.
“Looks like you had fun. You’ve gotten quite a bit better,” Lalaya commented as Misha was led to the sofa opposite her, accepting the glass that was offered to her the moment she sat down.
“I can barely remember what happened. I was just desperate to keep up with His Majesty’s movements. I doubt I could do that again,” Misha replied, her faint embarrassment innocent and adorable.
“Keeping up with him is more than enough. He got way too into it,” Lalaya said, shooting her brother a scathing glare.
Ryan shrugged with a laugh. “She was doing an excellent job of keeping up, so I instinctively kept pushing to see how far she could go, and before I knew it, I was thoroughly enjoying the dance. Sorry.”
Misha and Lalaya shared a laugh at the total lack of contrition in Ryan’s expression.
“Oh, whatever. Just hurry up and get out of here. There are plenty of girls waiting for a turn with you,” Lalaya said just as Ryan was about to sit down alongside them. “Misha, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to keep me company for a bit.”
Though grumbling about being tired too, Ryan nevertheless did as he was told and acceded to his sister’s blunt dismissal. And as if to take his place, the moment he was gone, Kite stepped in.
“Now, why don’t you introduce me to your friend here? Let’s talk for a bit,” Lalaya said.
Brought here out of the blue by someone claiming to be a servant of the princess, Kite shot Misha an inquisitive look, but she ignored the implicit question for now.
“This is Sir Kite Dyson. He was sent by my father to deliver some goods to me here in the castle. He has distinguished himself in the duke’s personal guard, and I owe him a lot personally,” Misha explained.
“Thank you for inviting us to your party this night,” Kite replied politely, despite the obvious confusion on his face.
“Thank you for coming all this way. Please, have a seat. I owe Misha a great deal, so I would love to get to know you too.”
No one could deny the princess when she smiled at them like that. Nevertheless taking the seat offered to him, Kite was still struck by an awful premonition. In short order, a drink was placed in front of him.
Good luck, Kite!
Knowing he wasn’t all that comfortable talking to women, Misha cheered him on quietly as she moved over to one of the armchairs beside him.
There would be no freedom for him until the princess’s curiosity was sated.
Chapter 24: An Epilogue, or a Prologue?
It wasn’t until quite late in the evening that Misha made it back to her room. With so many visitors in the castle, they were worried about security in her usual garden cabin, so she was using her room in the castle for the first time in a while. After scrubbing herself clean in the bath, Misha flopped down on her bed with a big sigh.
Lalaya had decided she was done for the night, and so she’d taken Misha along with her as she retired, but the party would go well into the morning. Ryan would be there until the very end so he could meet with as many people as possible.
Adults have so much stamina, Misha thought, closing her eyes. As she surrendered herself to the sensation of sinking into the soft bed beneath her, she realized she was much more tired than she’d thought.
“That was fun...”
Memories of her time at the ball flickered in the back of her mind. She had danced, laughed, and spoken with so many people. There had been some unpleasant attention pointed her way, but Conan and Kite had been quite assertive about placing themselves between her and those people, so those negative interactions hadn’t left much of an impression on her.
“A ball in the castle. It’s like a story from a picture book.” She laughed to herself, recalling all the scenes of young girls dancing with princes in the books her father had given her when she was little. She had read those books so many times, admiring the princesses within.
“But I didn’t dance with a prince—I danced with the king.”
She had felt so light, as if she had grown a pair of wings. Her feet had known where Ryan was going before her head could, and so they’d moved on their own to keep up with him. It had been a wonderfully bizarre sensation. Before she’d realized it, the music had ended and everyone was applauding.
“I doubt I could pull it off again, though.”
Her success must have been some kind of reward for attending her first party.
It was so, so fun. I’ll have to try extra hard tomorrow.
With one final yawn, she surrendered to the world of sleep, still wrapped in those warm, fuzzy feelings.
The old woman could faintly hear the sounds of the festivities coming in through the window. Too weak to do anything else, she lay on her bed with a thin blanket over her as she listened to the celebrations outside—at least, what she could strain herself to hear over the wheezing sound of the wind blowing into the room. Racked as she was by fever, she couldn’t even tell that sound was coming from her own throat.
Ah, it is time for the summer festival, isn’t it? she thought hazily.
During last year’s festival, she had been quite healthy; she’d spent it selling sweets on the street. She had made a good bit of money from that. But now, even lifting a finger was too much work. The fever had left her terribly exhausted. If she tried to push past the weariness and move anyway, she’d be assaulted by agonizing coughing fits and horrible joint pain.
She had collapsed with the coming of spring, and her condition only seemed to be getting worse. Her fever came and went, and she was always so weak. She had assumed she’d bounce back in no time. Now she understood it was strange for her to still be unwell. She couldn’t even get out of bed anymore.
