Wolfe stumbles over his words and I'm reminded I left my robes downstairs. His cringe is somehow endearing. I decided not to examine too closely why I felt pleased I still had such an effect on him. Or why I don't dislike when his eyes linger.

"How was your dancing? You were gone for quite a while, and judging by the state of your clothes, you were not idle," he says with a sly grin. The expression is one I'm starting to become familiar with.

"Dancing was good," I say earnestly, an unguarded and genuinely happy smile spreading across my face. Master had always taught me the virtues of being able to hide one's emotions, but when I danced I abandoned that guarded mentality and sometimes forgot to reassume it when I was done.

"Are you ready to practice?"