It was the way the dutiful man had looked at her longer than necessary, the way the rise of his shoulders had slowed and lengthened with his breath, the way the conflicted, anxious emotions on his face seemed to dissolve as he looked at her.

When he turned, Stratya’s eyes followed the bronze gaze to a wound-up Marina. The princess’s eye twitched. The captain wasn’t sure what to expect of that, but it wasn’t to be called,[color=peru] “allurring [i]and[/i] darrling,”[/color] she repeated to herself softly, amused. A soft giggle and wave of her fingers was the attention she left for Marina as she came back to Ambrose, for a moment watching him carry out one last detail of his duty before he would set it aside, ever so briefly; For her, or perhaps his escape.

Stratya knew the guards were there. She’d checked them as soon as she’d walked away from that churchman, in case she had need of one. While he presented her the opportunity, she let her eyes wander over him. The strength he radiated was accentuated, yet also tamed, by the black and gold trimmed in red. She found her eye tracing his figure through the embroidery that framed it, all duty and power. When she returned, and he turned to her, when his bright eyes found hers once more, once more did he seem to soften. Suddenly, he seemed to belong somewhere else; fishing in the forest river, maybe, while she spooked fish toward him.

She couldn’t help a small chuckle at his dry wit. The little bit of laughter melted into a warm smile as she reached her hand for his, [color=peru]“o’ courrse. [i]Serr[/i] Ambrrose.”[/color] A sheepishness passed through her expression as she corrected herself. Her steps, as the two of them moved onto the dance floor, would fall beside his, not in front or behind.[color=peru] “Forrtuna’ely, [i]dance[/i] is one of t’ things nobles do tha’ I’ve taken quite well tae.”[/color] As different as ballroom dancing was, it was still dancing.