The grand orchestra swelled with a seamless, sweeping melody, the vibrant notes of the strings filling every corner of the imperial ballroom. Out on the dance floor, completely unbothered by the hundreds of eyes drilling into them, Zarius and Cherion moved in perfect sync.
Zarius's large palm rested securely against Cherion's waist, his grip firm yet remarkably gentle as he guided his mate through the graceful turns of the waltz. Cherion looked up, a smile gracing his lips. Every step he took was effortless, his posture radiating a quiet, mesmerizing elegance that belonged entirely to high society.
"Madame Varo would probably shed a tear if she could see you right now," he murmured. "All those hours she spent stressing over your posture definitely paid off. You look like you were born to rule the dance floor."
