Chapter 41: Dancing

Mary and Theodore came toward the back of the classroom and took the empty seats beside Arthur and me.

Theodore greeted me with a handshake before doing the same with Arthur, while Mary gave us both a smile and a casual greeting.

We exchanged questions about how our morning had been, whether the previous lessons had been difficult, and whether anything interesting had happened since we’d last seen one another. It wasn’t anything particularly important, but after everything that had happened recently, having the four of us sitting together and talking normally felt strangely comforting.

A few seconds later, the classroom door opened.

Vane entered with her usual composed demeanor. Her eyes moved across the room with the same detached calm they always carried. However, when her gaze landed on Arthur, she stopped.

She walked toward him without saying anything, then lowered her head slightly.

"My deepest condolences."

Arthur’s expression changed for only an instant. He quickly forced a smile and gave a small nod.

"Thank you."

Vane didn’t say anything else. She straightened and continued toward the front of the classroom, leaving us to sit in silence for a few moments before everyone gradually returned their attention to her.

"Today, we will be practicing dancing."

I immediately felt a vague sense of dread.

’For some reason, I had never imagined that becoming an Awakened would involve learning how to gracefully move around a room while holding someone’s hand.’

"You will be practicing with members of the opposite sex. This is an important part of social etiquette. If you intend to attend balls or other formal gatherings, you must know how to dance properly. Otherwise, you risk embarrassing yourselves, your families, and the people accompanying you."

She looked around the classroom before pointing toward one of the students.

"Desmond. Come forward."

Desmond looked around as though hoping she was speaking to someone else. When it became obvious that she wasn’t, he reluctantly stood and walked to the front.

"Bella. You too."

A brown-haired girl a few desks away stood and joined him. The two stopped several steps apart and looked at one another with obvious uncertainty.

"Now," Vane said, "dance."

Neither of them moved. After several seconds, Desmond awkwardly extended his hand. Bella hesitated before placing hers in it. He put his other hand far too high on her back, while her free hand landed stiffly against his shoulder. They looked less like two nobles preparing for a dance and more like two people trying to figure out how to move a piece of furniture.

"Begin."

Desmond took a step. Bella took a step in the opposite direction. They immediately collided.

"Sorry!"

"My apologies!"

They separated in embarrassment, only for Desmond to attempt another step and land on Bella’s foot.

"Ow!"

"I—I apologize."

A few students began snickering. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.

’They’re doing wonderfully.’

Vane, however, didn’t look amused.

"Stop." She walked over and examined their positions.

"You are both treating this as though you are learning to walk for the first time. Desmond, your posture is stiff. Bella, you are barely moving your feet. Neither of you understands how the other person is supposed to respond."

She stepped between them and lowered Desmond’s arm.

"A gentleman’s hand does not rest this high. It should be placed here, on the upper portion of the lady’s back." She repositioned it. "Your other hand should hold hers naturally. Do not squeeze it, and do not leave your arm hanging completely straight."

She turned to Bella. "Your free hand rests lightly on his shoulder. You don’t need to grip him as though you’re afraid he’ll disappear."

A few people laughed again. Vane stepped away and took Desmond’s position herself.

"Before the dance even begins, the gentleman approaches the lady and asks for the dance. He doesn’t simply grab her hand." She demonstrated, bowing and extending her hand. "May I have the honor of this dance?"

Bella placed her hand in hers.

"Once the lady accepts, the gentleman leads her onto the floor. Your movements should never be rushed. You aren’t trying to win a race." She began moving.

"Gentlemen, watch the feet. Left." 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ

"Right.

"Left."

She repeated the rhythm several times before continuing. "The lady moves in response to the gentleman. When he advances, she retreats. Neither person should be dragging the other around the floor."

She demonstrated the turn next, guiding an imaginary partner with nothing more than a slight shift of her hand. "This is how you guide your partner. You don’t force the movement. You indicate it."

She repeated the sequence faster.

"Left, right, left. Then the turn. Right, left, right. Return to the original position." She looked at us. "Your upper body should remain relatively steady. Don’t bounce, don’t rush, and don’t stare at the floor. And most importantly—look at your partner."

Her gaze shifted to me. "Edmund. Come forward."

’Why me?’

There was no point asking. I walked to the front.

"Stand here. Take my hand."

I did.

"Your left hand goes here. Your right hand holds mine, elbow slightly bent. Good. Now your other hand goes to my back."

"Not so stiff."

I relaxed.

"Better."

She had me step through the rhythm—left, right, left—then guide her backward, then turn her beneath my arm. We repeated it once more, and this time I managed it without hesitation.

"Better," she said, then stepped away and addressed the class. "This is the basic movement. You don’t need to memorize every individual motion if you understand the rhythm and know how to communicate with your partner."

"Now everyone stand and find a partner."

The room immediately erupted into noise. I ended up partnered with Mary, who eyed me warily before extending her hand.

"Try not to step on my feet."

"I’ll do my best."

"That isn’t reassuring."

Across from us, Theodore looked as though someone had replaced his bones with wooden rods. Arthur seemed to be doing considerably better, though he clearly wasn’t enjoying himself.

The music started. Left. Right. Left. For the first few steps, everything went smoothly.

"Good," Vane said as she passed. I almost felt proud.

Then came the turn. I shifted my hand and guided Mary around—she completed it smoothly, but on the way back I nearly stepped into another pair.

"Careful."

"I had it under control."

"You almost walked into Theodore."

"I said almost."

Vane moved through the room, correcting everyone in turn—posture, hand height, shoulders, step, before reaching us. "Edmund, your arm is too tense. Relax. Your steps are fine. Now guide her into the turn more gently."

I tried again. This time it was clean.

"Better," she said, moving on.

She kept teaching well past that—approach, timing, refusals, escort, distance, posture—demonstrating the same movements again and again until I lost count of how many times she had explained the difference between leading and dragging.

By the time the lesson ended, I felt as though I had spent the hour listening to a lecture on the precise positioning of every limb in my body. I dropped into my seat and pressed my fingers against my temple.

’I’d rather fight something.’