The band struck up a tune and the couples began the dance. It was a staid Imperial tune with which Camilla was familiar from her time as lover to the Count of Ostland’s son. It seemed strange to be taken back to a time before she had met Cydric and embarked on her present life as a sellsword. It really wasn’t that long ago, perhaps a year and a half, though with all the travel they had done her sense of time was far from certain. It seemed a distant time now and it was hard to imagine that she had been that person, she had been convinced that she would only need spend a few months in the ‘court’ of Ostland before she would attract a lover who would whisk her off to Altdorf or Marienburg and house her in a palace with every comfort. It was hard to imagine that she had gone from that to working as hired help at a besieged city at the edge of the world. 

“Does something amuse you,” Indendre’s cultured voice cut in on her reverie. Camilla executed the required spin and moved into the promenade, allowing the elf to lift her hand in his own.

“Lo how the mighty have fallen,” she quoted with an ironic grin. If the elf were confused by the reference he gave no sign of it, gliding through the steps of the dance with grace that was literally inhuman. It seemed strange to her that an elf would be so familiar with Imperial culture as to know a dance by heart but it would have been rude to enquire. She was receiving a number of hostile stares from the other women of the court, clearly envying her the elegant elf as a dance partner. Several of the men were already trying to appear casual in their jostling for the next dance with her.

“Why are you interested in me?” she asked the elf as they made a series of graceful turns and moved from the promenade into the waltz. The other elves were watching Indendre with unreadable expressions as he laughed lightly.

“Well because you are interesting of course,” the elf said easily, avoiding the thrust of the question with grace.

“And why is that?” she pressed, even though she knew it was pressing the bounds of propriety.

“How many famous Tilean sellswords come noblewomen do you see at this dance m’lady,” Indendre replied ironically. Camilla arched any eyebrow but didn’t miss a step of the complicated crescendo of the dance, turning against the elf with hands raised palm to palm without every quite touching. Clearly the elf recognized the pair of them though she couldn’t for the life of her imagine how. Perhaps Dietricha had told him, her eyes sought for the wizard but didn’t find the woman on a casual glance.

“That isn’t it,” she said, sensing the elf wasn’t speaking the whole truth, but before she could press the matter the song concluded with a bow from the men and a curtsey from the women. Before the note finished reverberating people swept in on them. Camilla found herself facing a young hussar who was a little more aggressive than his fellows, but Indendre, despite being besieged by the ladies of the court seemed to glide gracefully out of their reach to rejoin his fellows. 
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