To Irene's horror, her father's response was, "You should know by now I don't have control over my daughter, Your Grace. You'll have to ask her yourself."

That was a sure way to sober her up.

Immediately, she regretted not telling her father the truth of her heart. Perhaps he would have agreed to keep her far from the Commander. However, the more rational part of her head knew that it would complicate things down the line when she had to eventually return to the Duke's Tower.

Having no choice but to show him respect, Irene turned herself towards her Commander. She couldn't help that her face communicated shock as the very man—the Duke himself—bowed at his waist and extended towards her a gloved hand.

He was wearing a tunic crafted from fine, scarlet silk. Along the sleeves, bottom, and neckline, there was gold thread intertwined in a vine pattern. Irene noticed on the sleeve extended towards her, there were red rubies set in gold clasping the sleeves closed at his wrists. A cape was over his back and clasped at the top part of his chest with a small golden chain.

He looked like a prince. Irene found herself clamming up.

"Lady Irene, if you would please give me the honor of a dance, I would be appreciative," her Commander requested. "However, don't feel pressured because I'm your Commander. This is your decision. I'll leave you alone if you say no."

His mannerisms were different. He was a new sort of beast whom she was unaccustomed to. He oozed regality and it became no wonder he had almost secured the hand of the Princess, but it left Irene with the question of if this was really him.

She preferred the wild and free version of him—especially the version who smiled. Unfortunately, she hadn't seen him smiling in a while and she was partially at fault.

The urge to tell him no was chased away by reason and not wanting to embarrass him. Perhaps there was a more selfish reason lingering within her as well.

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her. Somehow, she managed to prevent her hand from shaking.

"Just this once, Commander," she managed to utter. "I don't like dancing."

Immediately, he gave her a relieved smile.

Why did he seem like he had been holding his breath as he waited for her answer?

As they went on, she regretted every bit of alcohol she had before because she was relying on him more than she wanted to. It was causing her to notice unnecessary things like his firm bicep underneath her fingers and the way he smelled like a piney forest. Her heart was also racing but she managed to keep her head lifted and a faint smile on her face so those observing their every move wouldn't think she was displeased with being at his side. He deserved someone eager for him, but she wasn't allowed to be outside of that moment. Such were the constraints of being one of his knights.

At the center of the room, he brought her pale, freckled hand to his lips and kissed the back of it as was customary for the beginning of a dance. He was handling her too gently. She did not deserve this treatment. He didn't know just what merely kissing her hand was going to do to her brain and heart for the foreseeable future and it was all on her own that she had made him into something he didn't want to be.

There was a fleeting urge to pretend she had an emergency so she wouldn't have to follow through with this dance she had agreed to.

With no other options to escape, they got into the proper position with his hand on her waist and hers on his shoulder as their other hands clasped together and they began swaying to the small musical ensemble that was playing a tune in the corner. The music sounded so romantic and Irene felt it wasn't right for the two of them. She somehow managed to not completely embarrass herself, remembering how to dance with someone else.

No matter how much bravery she had in other aspects of her life, she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes in that moment when he was standing so close to her as they danced along.

Breaking her out of her thoughts and catching her gaze, her Commander realized, "Your hands are calloused."

She tried to pull her hand from his grip but he managed to grip a bit harder so she wouldn't be able to escape. From the outside, it likely looked like nothing had happened.

"Does that bother you?" she wondered cautiously.

"How else would you have been so good with a sword without having to toughen up your hands? My hands are destroyed. I'm simply glad you understand."

She realized his hands were, in fact, calloused as well.

It was her turn to be relieved as a real smile finally graced her features and she remembered that he was harmless. Only she was jumping to conclusions as usual while he remained kind and open to her. It made her feel a bit awful about herself, but she managed to force herself to enjoy this for his sake.

It was unlikely something like this would ever happen again.

+

Meanwhile, Irene's parents were watching something surprising unfold as their daughter joined her Commander at the center of the room for a dance.

For once, she wasn't rigid and allowed someone to lead her along. At first, the dance was silent, but the Commander said something that caused Irene to smile. Each time her smile waned, he found something else to say that brought her attention back to him and caused her to laugh again.

She seemed shy at times and the Duke seemed to be able to charm her easily.

"They make decent… dance partners," Rochelle settled with. "I always thought she held affection for Sir Felix, but it seems I was mistaken."

"You don't know how knighthoods work," Arthur gently reminded his wife. "War and loss bring brothers and sisters closer together."

"I suppose," she relented.

"It could be nothing," Arthur tried to argue, but as he watched Irene it felt rather flimsy.

"Could be something," Rochelle persisted. "But I don't want to get ahead of myself. It would be quite complicated to get involved with a man like that."

Arthur smiled faintly. "Whatever she wants."

Rochelle was satisfied enough with that. Irene had surprised her that evening. Not only did she wear a dress but she found a suitable dance partner even though it was him who chose her. Perhaps it all wasn't hopeless…

+

After walking down the hallways where the others from the knighthood gave her weird looks upon seeing her in a dress, Irene was feeling insecure when she noticed that the Commander's eyes never seemed to leave her for very long.

"Stop staring at me like that," she uttered, biting the inside of her cheek. Now that the barrier between them had somewhat broken down, she felt okay to speak with him more comfortably. "The others are going to get the wrong idea. Do I really look all that different from normal?"

"Clothing is only clothing when you act the same," the Commander responded. "I've never seen you wear anything horrible. Well, except for when you wore my tunic and it nearly touched your knees."

She balked at that. She still hadn't returned his tunic.

"You really know how to compliment a lady," she responded sarcastically.

"I'm only kidding," Henry assured her. "Speaking of that night, you hardly have a scar despite how deep the cut was."

She felt uncomfortable at his undivided attention and his eyes on her exposed skin. "I told you, Siverly is a good healer," she reminded him quietly.

By that point, it was acceptable for the other guests to join the pair in dancing and soon couples started filling in the space. Irene had practically forgotten it was just the two of them out there and that she should likely behave better.

As people moved closer, it seemed obvious that they were trying to listen in on their conversation.

However, as people moved in and filled the space around them, Irene had no choice but to step a bit closer to her Commander. Someone brushed against her back, pushing her even closer and before she realized it, her chest was pressed against him.

She looked up at him in alarm with wide green eyes and slightly parted lips, but it wasn't because of her proximity and more because she felt his grip at her waist tighten as if he didn't want her to move away.