> There are countless presentation balls throughout what is known as the Social Season. The early ones are a show while the later ones are where decisions are made, alliances forged, and enemies earned. --- *The Dance of Grace*
After years of fantasies and days of worry, Galadin's first presentation ball exceeded everything he had dreamed it would be. For the last hour, his dance card had been filled with one partner after the other. He loved every moment on the floor, hand-in-hand with his partner and his green dress flowing in the wide circles of the classical dances.
The last minute dance lessons still echoed in his head as he looked into the eyes of his current partner, an older man with a military badge of honor on his breast. He was easily twice Galadin's age but seemed to be enjoying himself.
He knew that his mother had been careful about his dance card. No one famous or in the center of attention for the city would be taking his hand. She was careful not to risk the family's reputation on Galadin's fantasy, but somehow she managed to find enough suitors to keep Galadin dancing.
One of the twirls came up. He smiled, tasting the faint flowery flavor of his lipstick, and let his hand be drawn up to spin around. His heels threatened to twist but he bore down and stepped into it, spinning on the tips of his toes before coming down in perfect harmony with thirty other debutantes dancing. The shudder brought a swelling of joy and he smiled through the tears that threatened to ruin his makeup.
"You look beautiful, bedame," said her partner. Galadin already knew that he wasn't seriously looking and there was no chance he would be asking for Galadin's hand. All he wanted was to be seen dancing with one pretty woman after the other.
With a blush, Galadin curtsied and let himself be drawn to the edge of the dance. There was a bit of a crowd but he would be delivered back to his mother.
While they made their way, Galadin glanced up at the balcony. There were three painters with easels frantically drawing and working their brushes. Two other artists were concentrating on their canvas with a haze of magic drawing colors across the page.
Then he caught sight of Dame Dorin, his original dance instructor, looking at him from next to the painters. A pale shiver of fear rose up in the back of his throat as she tilted her head slightly and then hurried down the stairs.
Turning away, Galadin fought a whimper. Did Dorin notice him? Would she ruin his secret? He focused on not letting his tension grip the fingers of her partner, but his other hand tightened in the growing fear.
Just as they reached the tables, Dorin approached. She had a fake smile on her lips as she held out her hand. "There you are!" She held out her arms in welcome.
Her partner stopped. "Oh, you are from Dame Dorin's school?" It was a pointed question. There were a lot more than just debutantes by themselves at the ball, there were also all the seamstresses, instructors, and women involved with presenting them. The success of a debutante expanded to include not only herself but those who helped her.
"Thank you, Besire," Dorin said with just a quiver of her lips. Dorin was clear to call her "dame", not "taladame" for a lady who had lost her husband.
Dorin took Galadin's hand and deftly brought him to the side. "He's not going to your father, Love. A pair of his card game friends had just arrived with their daughters and he has his eyes on one of them."
Dorin turned and held Galadin's hand, looking him over. They were away from the others. Her lips pressed tightly together. "So, this is why you stopped coming to my lessons?"
Dorin shrugged. "When I can count the number of bedames and besires I'm teaching with one hand?" She sighed. "Yes, I would. It may have taken me a bit, but when I saw you with that... man, I knew there was a chance you went that way."
Dame Dorin's eyes grew hard for a moment and then she smiled. "I'll tell you what. You tell everyone that I'm still your teacher and we resume your lessons after the ball. Your form is beautiful but you need to bring your hand more into a curve when you spin. It has to look like a ribbon flowing in the water."
She gave a short laugh and some of the attention faded. "Besides, Potsur won't be standing much less attending this ball. A silk lady should always attend the affairs of their charges, that goes triple for their most promising."
"I'm willing to steal Potsur's efforts and have you claim your skill as from mine. That is putting my name at risk as much as you are putting yours." She nodded her head and pulled Galadin close.
