‘Lower... Lower… not that low. Perfect.’

Circling him with a keen eye, Lee’s instructor tapped the occasional limb with her crop, his head bowed low in an elegant invitation of dance. His back buzzed with the strange stiffness of the posturing, the style entirely foreign to him. Typically, Synan dance was fluid if not entirely improvised, partners chosen by synchronized consent in the rush of the music drunken crowd. This, however…

‘Now you may rise- shoulders up!’ prodding the crop into his collar bone, he was forced to puff up his chest, visible even through the generous drapery of his clothes. A violinist began a melody on cue with a flute to accompany her. As skilled as they were, the melody's stringent and complex arrangement fell awkwardly on Leilani's ears.

‘Is this a dance or a courting ritual?’ he mocked, touting his pose before initiating the first steps of partnerless waltz. His teacher observed from the side, narrowing her eyes in occasion if he flounced a little more than necessary for a turn or glided too smoothly into a spin.

‘At your age? Both,’ She was a ripe old woman, wrinkled but retaining a semblance of youth in her eyes. She had hailed from Anin years prior to instruct Leilani in a variety of skills- horseback riding, conduct in a foreign court, history, even fencing was at first her responsibility before a separate instructor was hired to handle his tenacious stubbornness.

‘Anin waltz is not an expression of the spirit, but of discipline,’ she smacked an ankle as Lee concluded his dance, reminding him to raise his heel,’something you lack oh so very much.’

'And whose job was it to discipline me?' Lee laughed, starting again with his bow. Seeing she had no corrections to make, he took on a mischievous smile and swept his teacher up into his lead.

At first scowling, she quickly turned to criticism as they waltzed,'higher hands, lower that elbow- are you a prince or a pisspoor archer?'

'I stopped those lessons last year, I'm afraid,'

A disappointed exhale made him laugh as the dance drew to a close, his wrist spun into a farewell. To his instructor's confirmed fears, he really began to prance away.

'Your lessons aren't over, your highness!'

Kicking away his embroidered dance slippers for more sturdy leather ones, her scolding fell on his deaf ears,'yes, yes, a stain on the royal reputation, reckless scoundrel, etcetera etcetera. Tell Holland I won't be attending my grammar review today!' And with that, he was gone.

~

Lee slumbered in half-sleep for some time before groaning awake, his rumpled clothes sticking grossly to his skin. Ruffling the bedhead out of his hair, he noticed clothes folded neatly by the foot of the bed.

The snowy shirt gifted to him was undoubtedly sewn in Anin fashion, imbued with hints of decorative hemming on the cuffs and collar. As it was tailored for someone a slight larger in physique, however, it sat familiarly loose over his figure in semblance of the drapery popular back in Syna. With the dip in the neckline not too low to be worn casually, he had little room to complain. A familiar belt had also made its appearance, but newly polished and cleansed of any blood he'd sworn he'd left behind. After tucking his shirt in under it, he finally felt ready to make it downstairs.

He found Donovan dismounting his horse in the stables, handing the lead to a stable boy. Before he allowed them to depart, he received some parchment from the saddlebag.

When he saw Lee approaching, he pleasantly greeted him,"You’re awake, then. Typically an early bird, aren't you?"

“I’m sure you enjoyed the sleep in,” Lee chided back,”though it seems you’ve been busy.”

Donovan quirked the corner of his lips lightly,”My sister. She writes to me on occasion, keeps me up to date on the family... though I couldn’t be bothered with a half of it.”

“Lovely that she writes, though,” Lee noted,”she’ll be happy to hear you’ll be in the capital soon.”

“Oh? And what says I’ll be making such a return?” Donovan walked with Lee as they returned to the inn for lunch, breakfast now well out of the question.

“Did you notice the sword that woman held yesterday?”

“Hard to miss, I’d say.”

“Steel, bleached leather on the grip, beaded tassel on the hilt… all a bit cliche, isn’t it?”

Don glanced sideways at Lee, “You’re a fan of swords, then.”

“I used to dabble,”Lee quickly returned to his point,”so you know where I’m going with this. It has to be from the coast.”

“Perhaps,” Donovan sat as Lee did, a pensive look in his eye,”Doesn’t mean our suspects are.”

Lee drummed his fingers on the table, chin resting on the palm of his other hand. Trinity Coast was a distant country, with a glamorous capital nested on the crest of seaside cliffs. The city was named for its central city and two adjacent ports, a beacon of the coast and main source of foreign goods for the rest of the continent. While Lee had never had the pleasure of visiting the sea, he often poured over illustrations and novels as a kid, his lackluster experience with bodies of water inadequate to truly picture an endless horizon of blue. What he did know, however, was what he could collect, generously gifted by ambassadors and wealthy merchants seeking to impress the prince. While seashells and windchimes were well enough, though, his favorite prize from the coast was a gift from his father- a silver steel blade that would never see blood. Instead, it entertained an overzealous boy before collecting dust in the royal armory, only to resurface as a memory all these years later.

“Doesn’t the tassel mean something? The color of the beads?”

Don was impassive to Lee’s frustration, readily slicing a loaf of bread presented to their table,“It can, though it’s mostly decorative unless it’s of a notable house.”

“Someone that matters…” Lee echoed, reaching for any possible leads,”Do blues and whites mean anything?” He mindlessly took a slice of bread Don offered him, eating without thought.

Donovan considered the inquiry as he cut his own slice, but came to a conclusion as he set the breadknife down,”Nothing comes to mind.”

Lee huffed to himself, his promising lead running cold,”Matilda can’t be that popular of a name, can it?”

“I have a cousin named Matilda,” Donovan remarked, happy to listen to Lee spin his wheels.

“Seigle?”

“A commoner of no circumstance.”

Despite the passive back and forth they had carried until then, Lee was surprised to hear a blunt finality to Donovan’s words, as though he’d passed judgment on the stranger long ago.

“You don’t seem to be a fan. Know him?”

“No, and I’m not keen on it,” gingerly gliding the breadknife over a cloth to rid it of crumbs, Donovan changed the subject,”so we head west.”

“You don’t seem to be a fan of that, either.”

“If we must.”

“West it is, then!”

“But first, your bandages need to be changed.”

Lee buried his head in his hands with a sigh, a sheepish recollection of the previous evening bubbling up to embarrass him. And then, of course, he was wearing Donovan’s hand-me-downs…

“I must apologize for last night, your highness, it wasn’t your place to take care of me as you did.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize I wasn’t worthy of such a simple thing,” Donovan feigned, the sharp look of the first night they met back to his eyes.

“No, no you’re worthy, you’re worthy! Um-” Lee ruffled his own hair in frustration,”too worthy.. You know what I mean!”

Lee once more was surprised to hear a gentle laugh from Donovan’s lips, turning his cheeks only redder. Don rose from his chair with this, waving off his stammering, “You’re welcome, Leland. I’m assuming you won’t need my further assistance?”

Rushing to follow, Lee choked out his own dry laugh,”N-no, I don’t believe that will be necessary…”