Chapter 78: The Party Had Already Chosen a King

Dante restored Evan’s practice time while the empty bottle crate pressed an uncomfortable pattern into his palm. It would have been easier to do it later. Nell looked pleased with her work, Jett needed the rehearsal, and the part of Dante’s mind responsible for explaining unfortunate decisions had already prepared several excellent reasons. He handed Rhae the crate before that department acquired a majority.

“I promised them the slot,” he told Nell. “Put it back. We’ll use the earlier space.”

“I thought you wanted the extra preparation,” Nell said, opening the sheet.

“I did. I also need people to believe me when I tell them something.”

Her expression changed, and he softened his voice before he meant to. “You can help protect my time without making me break my word.”

Nell nodded and opened the roster. Evan waited until his team’s name reappeared before thanking him. “Will that still apply after you win?” he asked.

Dante considered whether the question had been delivered with enough respect. Jett pushed the empty crate back into his hands before he could organize an answer around the wrong part.

“Carry that,” his roommate said. “We still have a party to arrive at without starting another event first.”

By evening, Alpha Rho’s ground-floor common room had become a place where nobody could hear a sensible thought finish. Music came from the open courtyard, where a drummer controlled four hovering sticks and still needed another person to carry his case. The kitchen stood to the left of the entrance hall. Stairs climbed on the right, while the cleared dance space ran through the common room to the courtyard doors. Dante noted all of it because a ruler should understand the terrain, especially when the terrain contained women who might ask him to dance.

At a small table near the entrance, an illusion charm offered false antlers, fangs, or glowing eyebrows. Jett chose the eyebrows, then forgot about them until someone asked why he looked surprised by his own drink. Dante declined a crown. He had standards concerning inexpensive competition. Posey found him with a bright fruit drink and asked whether he remembered the count. He said he did, which remained technically true even though his feet had submitted no supporting evidence.

She brought him onto the cleared floor. Her hand settled at his shoulder, and he followed the pressure of her fingers rather than attempting to lead something he did not understand. The first turn went well. The second brought her close enough for her scent to cut through the warm room, and his thoughts stopped pretending they had come for music.

“You were concentrating,” she said, pleased he had followed the turn.

“I was deciding whether this counted as an attack.”

“Would you like me to stop?” she asked, leaving the choice with him.

He adjusted his hand at her waist after she guided it lower by an inch. “I would like a chance to defend myself properly.”

Posey laughed, then stayed close through the end of the song. When they moved to the courtyard edge, he stepped down from its shallow border so she did not have to tilt her head to talk to him. She noticed. Her fingers remained in his coat sleeve while she told him about a squad member who had finally trusted her own landing. He listened, asked what had changed, and watched her become more animated because the answer mattered to somebody outside the practice pool.

Anika interrupted with a hand at his collar and a claim that Posey had monopolized the useful height. Posey let her steal the next short dance, looking more amused than threatened. Anika moved with considerably less patience for his mistakes. He followed anyway, enjoying the challenge and the fact that she knew he was enjoying it.

“You’ve been busy,” she told him, setting the count before he lost it.

“Several branches of government require personal attention,” he replied, missing the next count.

“Then stop watching my mouth and count.” He counted badly enough to make her smile. There were worse defeats available, and he had no intention of choosing one.

When the dance ended, Anika asked whether he intended to practice before the next one. He said he would if she was offering another lesson, and her amused pause made the answer worth the risk.

“You’d have to listen,” she told him, smoothing the collar she had disturbed.

“I followed at least three instructions tonight,” he said, offering his best evidence.

“That explained why you’re still invited.” She left him with a hand briefly against his chest and no promise he could convert into a schedule. Dante watched her return to Posey, pleased that the women could laugh together without requiring him to understand every word. He suspected some of those words were about him and decided to enjoy the evidence of public interest.

Honey stood near the illusion table, explaining why the projected wings on a student’s mask would have prevented flight. The student asked whether looking pretty counted as a separate purpose, and Honey paused long enough to reconsider her entire complaint. Dante held the windward side of his coat beside her loose notes when a breeze reached the courtyard. She caught the pages, thanked him, and tucked one edge beneath his hand while she finished speaking.

Rhae had found the host and was discussing a possible drinks order. When she looked toward Dante, he raised his empty cup in support rather than crossing over to turn her business into his introduction. Lucan arrived carrying fresh drinks for the team. His pink hair caught the courtyard light, and his smile suggested he had not spent enough of the evening considering how threatening kindness could become.

“The hinge worked better today,” he told Dante. “Your lower support helped.”

Dante accepted the cup. “I’m glad your expectations are recovering.”

“My expectations were fine. You keep arguing with them.” Jett laughed so hard that the illusion eyebrows flashed. Dante decided Lucan had prepared that response, possibly for weeks.

Near the hall, Evan spoke with his teammates. They had used their restored practice time in the annex before the party, and Nell was clearing the last roster sheets from its bench. Dante passed them on his way to the kitchen and announced that the future study room would require a better refreshment policy than lukewarm juice.

“Would we have to bow before using the kettle?” Evan asked, smiling.

A few people laughed. Dante knew it could have been friendly. He also heard the possibility that someone had tested his importance in front of the people enjoying it.

“Anyone expecting help could start with some manners,” he replied. The words landed harder than the joke had. Evan’s smile thinned, and Dante walked on before the moment could ask anything else of him.

From the adjoining hall, Nell watched him go. Then she approached Evan and pointed toward the annex. “You left your notebook on the bench,” she said. “Could you come get it? I wanted to clear up the roster mistake before tomorrow.”