Chapter 162: We may speak now, through a dance
Ulrich noticed the change immediately, and he definitely reveled in it.
The corner of his mouth moved.
It was barely a smile.
Antonias saw it.
His eyes widened. His hands clenched at his sides.
Then whatever restraint had remained in him broke.
He rushed forward.
"Antonias—"
Kaliantha moved to stop him.
She stepped between Antonias and Ulrich, reaching for his arm before he could cross the distance. Antonias, blinded by rage and drink, did not even look at her.
He raised his hand and shoved her aside.
The movement was rough.
Kaliantha stumbled backward not expecting he would do that.
For one instant, the ballroom froze.
Antonias did not seem to understand what he had done. He only continued forward, reaching for Ulrich with an open hand, intent on catching hold of him.
But Ulrich had already moved.
Antonias’s hand closed on nothing.
Ulrich slipped past him with a quick step and reached Kaliantha before she could fall. One arm came around her waist, steadying her against him as her balance gave way.
Kaliantha caught at the front of his coat.
Her fingers closed around the crimson fabric near his chest.
Ulrich held her upright without pulling her closer than necessary. Once her feet were firmly beneath her again, he released her and guided her back into a straight stance.
Kaliantha blinked.
For a brief second, her eyes rested on Ulrich.
Then she turned them toward Antonias.
He had stopped.
He stood several paces away, staring at them with a blank, dumbfounded expression.
The wine clouding his mind seemed to clear all at once.
He had pushed Kaliantha.
Before the entire court.
And Ulrich had caught her.
Kaliantha pulled away from Ulrich completely.
Her expression changed.
The softness she had shown toward Albert and Camellia earlier that evening vanished. So did the patience she had forced herself to maintain through Antonias’s drunken accusations. Her face became still, but it was not the calm stillness Ulrich wore.
It was anger stripped of warmth.
Ulrich looked at her.
He had never seen that expression on her before.
Antonias seemed to sober entirely beneath it.
"It was an important day for your daughter," Kaliantha said.
Her voice was clear enough for every person in the ballroom to hear.
"You were meant to be here. You were meant to dance with her."
Antonias glanced toward Camellia.
Camellia stood beside Albert, her head lowered. Her hands were folded tightly before her gown. The happiness that had lit her face when the celebration began had disappeared beneath embarrassment, shame she could barely hide.
For the first time that evening, Antonias looked ashamed.
"Instead," Kaliantha continued, "you left with another woman and drank until you could barely stand."
"I—I can still dance with her," Antonias said.
His voice had lost some of its force.
He took a small step toward Camellia, then stopped when Kaliantha did not look away from him.
"I can still dance with her," he repeated. "But before that bastard hit me—"
"Guards."
Kaliantha’s words cut through his words.
It did not sound like Antonias shouting for soldiers in a drunken rage.
It sounded like an order.
The response was fast.
Several guards entered from the edges of the ballroom immediately at her call.
"Accompany the King from the hall," Kaliantha said. "He is unwell. Summon the royal physician and have him examined thoroughly."
"Wait." Antonias pulled against the guards closing around him. "Kaliantha, I can still dance—ugh!"
He tried to step forward.
His boot caught against the marble, and his body lurched with the movement. Count Bentheim caught him by the arm before he could fall in front of the entire ballroom.
Antonias twisted in Marten’s hold, humiliation joining the anger already written across his face.
"Albert will dance in your stead with his sister," Kaliantha said. "You will get proper rest, Husband."
She paused only long enough for the final words to reach him.
"And we will speak afterward."
Antonias glared at her.
Kaliantha did not return the look.
The guards began leading him toward the doors. Marten remained at his side, keeping a firm hand beneath the King’s elbow whenever Antonias stumbled or tried to pull free. Antonias continued to resist, though his strength had become clumsy and unfocused. Blood still marked his face. His torn collar hung crookedly against his throat.
Kaliantha watched him leave without changing her expression.
Then she turned toward the master of ceremonies.
The man had been standing near the musicians’ platform with both hands clasped stiffly in front of him. The instant her eyes found him, he nearly jumped.
He spun toward the musicians.
"L—Let us resume!"
The musicians did not wait for a second command.
Bows rose. Fingers returned to strings and keys. The first notes came out thin and uncertain, but the melody steadied as they continued. It filled the silence Antonias had left behind, though it could not erase the uneasy attention lingering through the ballroom.
The guards moved back toward their posts.
The nobles began to rearrange themselves, careful not to look as though they were staring. No one spoke loudly. No one dared laugh. Yet murmurs moved beneath the music.
Kaliantha turned toward Ulrich.
He stood beside her as if the King’s outburst had been no more disruptive than a servant dropping a tray.
"Count Rubenhart," she said. "I will hear you as well, later."
There was no accusation in her voice.
There was no acceptance of his denial, either.
She did not believe Ulrich had nothing to do with Antonias’s injuries. Antonias was foolish, vain, and drunk enough to disgrace himself before his court, but he was not foolish enough to invent an assault by a Count when Kaliantha could question everyone involved. He would know she could uncover a lie.
Kaliantha began to turn away.
Ulrich’s arm pressed lightly across the small of her back.
The touch stopped her.
It was not rough. He did not grip her. Still, his hand remained there, preventing her from taking the step she had intended.
Kaliantha looked over her shoulder.
Ulrich looked down at her.
"We may speak now," he whispered.
She blinked once.
"Tomorrow," she began.
"Through a dance," Ulrich said.
He interrupted her so softly that the words did not carry beyond the narrow space between them. Then he removed his hand from her back and stepped away, leaving the decision entirely hers as if no words had been exchanged.
Kaliantha stood still.
Around them, the ballroom had begun to move again.
Albert crossed the floor toward Camellia. He approached his sister awkwardly, also ashamed by his father’s outburst. Camellia raised her eyes when he reached her, though the embarrassment had not entirely left her face. Albert offered her his hand.
Camellia placed hers in it.
They moved toward the open center of the ballroom as the musicians shifted into the ceremonial dance.
It seemed both seemed to agree to bury the shame through the expected dance.
Kaliantha, meanwhile barely noticed them.
Her attention remained on Ulrich.
He was not a man who made careless requests. He did not tease, nor did he seek her company simply to amuse himself. Asking her for a dance now, immediately after Antonias had caused such a public disgrace, could not have been an empty gesture.
Still, it was an absurd request.
He wanted to speak with her, and he had decided the dance floor was the place to do it.
A burst of raised voices drew Kaliantha’s attention past Ulrich’s shoulder.
Antonias had not yet reached the doors.
He was still drunk enough to struggle against the guards holding him. One of them had taken his arm; another stood at his other side, blocking his path whenever he tried to turn back toward the ballroom. Marten spoke close to him, attempting to calm him, but Antonias only jerked away and shouted something that disappeared beneath the returning music.
The gathered court watched in stunned silence.
Antonias continued to shame himself, her and them, with every step.
Kaliantha turned back to Ulrich.
He had not looked away from her.
His red eyes held hers with a seriousness that made it clear he expected an answer, a positive one.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she raised her hand toward him.