“Is that something you say to your blind little sister? You mean old grump. You sourpuss. You devilish grandpa.”
“You’re shouting pretty well for someone who’s supposedly helpless. Your big brother is glad you’re healthy. And I’m not a grandpa.”
There was no beating him with words. Frey struggled to calm her heavy breathing.
She was reminded of how, as a child, her brother used to tease her from high up in a tree. She could already picture the smug expression on his face, even without seeing it—arms crossed, eyes narrowed, looking down at her in condescension.
Unable to resist the provocation, Frey clenched her trembling fists.
“Fine then.”
Her face full of defiance, she accepted the challenge.
“My lady!”
Roxana and Robert both cried out in alarm, nearly in unison. But Frey lifted her chin stubbornly, ignoring them as she made her vow.
“I’ll learn to dance perfectly in five days. But if I succeed, you have to take me to the ball—no matter what.”
—
It had been a long time since the siblings had faced each other and had a real conversation. Frey had been cold to Curtis ever since he came to bring her home. Their strained relationship had dragged on for nearly two years now. Robert, seeing a chance for reconciliation, suggested that Curtis personally teach Frey how to dance—but both siblings flatly refused.
“I’ll show him. Just wait and see.”
Frey was more determined than ever. Fueled by her resolve, Robert hired a dance instructor who gave her two hours of ballroom dance lessons every day. She worked hard, but her progress was slow.
With only three days left until the ball, Frey finally confessed her frustration.
“I can’t quite picture it in my head, Teacher. I understand the woman’s steps, but I can’t grasp what the man’s supposed to do.”
“There’s no time to start over from the beginning at this point. You may just have to rely on your partner’s lead.”
“I don’t want that. That’s not the same as dancing on my own.”
Pouting, Frey turned her head away. Even after the instructor quietly left the room with a sigh, her mood remained sour for the rest of the day. But by evening, she had an idea.
“Roxana.”
“Yes?”
Roxana froze mid-task, holding a basin of wash water.
“You can do the male part.”
“…Me?”
The unexpected order caught her completely off guard.
“Yes. You’ve been watching, haven’t you? You’re smart—you must’ve picked it up by now.”
That may have been true, but Roxana didn’t feel confident in teaching anyone. The only time she’d ever danced was at a small event when she was fifteen—and she had stepped on her partner’s feet.
“I’d feel too awkward asking the instructor. You’ll be better.”
“My lady…”
“Besides, I’m only doing this because of what you said. So I’m counting on you starting tomorrow.”
Before Roxana could even try to object, Frey had already decided and lay down on the bed looking satisfied.
—
In the end, she had no choice but to practice all night. Late into the night, when everyone else had gone to bed, Roxana went out to the rear garden and practiced the male steps. Imagining a partner, she moved as if one hand were on a waist, the other holding someone’s hand—one step at a time.
“Is this right?”
She tried to recall the movements from memory, but something felt off. As she awkwardly repeated the steps, she heard a rustle behind her. Roxana turned sharply—and froze like a statue.
“I thought it was a ghost.”
Curtis stood there with a longsword in one hand and a light robe on, clearly having been training. He looked at her with amused disdain.
“You’re terrible at that.”
Embarrassed, Roxana tried to hide her expression.
“Of course I am. I’m not used to it.”
“Strange. The Dalton family was one of the wealthiest in the kingdom.”
He smirked and reached out a hand to her. But Roxana, having learned from previous encounters, avoided it this time and simply glared at him. He pointed at her shoulder instead.
A caterpillar had fallen from a tree onto her. But instead of squealing or panicking, Roxana calmly let it crawl onto her finger and placed it on a nearby branch. She had always been a strange girl, even back then.
“What’s wrong with me riding a colt? There’s no law that says only men can. And I’m better at it than you, anyway.”
She had never cared about appearances or reputation. Wearing a stable boy’s clothes, she would tie up her long hair and gallop around on horseback like it was nothing.
Just when Curtis thought those old memories had faded, they rose back to the surface again. He hated how this woman constantly reminded him of the past. And he hated himself even more—for continuing to watch her.
It always came back to her. Roxana Dalton.
“I must’ve miscalculated. I brought you here to suffer more than you did in the convent, and here you are, swept up in dance fever.”
“If that’s how it looks, so be it.”
Roxana answered vaguely and looked away. She wanted to leave. The memory of his gentle embrace and soft voice from before swirled in her mind—so different from the cold gaze he now gave her.
“Well then, I’ll be going.”
She bowed quickly and stepped past him—but he grabbed her arm before she could escape. Before she could even struggle, he spun her around by the shoulders.
“Like I said, your dancing is awful. Don’t you feel bad for my eyes, having to witness that mess?”
“……”
She knew it. She didn’t need to be told twice. This man had a real talent for getting under her skin. Biting her lower lip, Roxana took a deep breath—but then he said something completely unexpected.
“Are you trying to embarrass my sister because I made you a maid?”
“I’ve never thought such a thing! Good heavens…”
The words burst out without thinking. Narrowing his eyes, Curtis pressed further.
“No? But you’re the one who encouraged her. She used to never leave that cave she called a room, and now suddenly she wants to go to a ball?”
Roxana wanted to deny it, but a faint memory of drunkenly whispering something to Frey flickered in her mind. She’d been prepared to get scolded—but this was worse than she imagined. Her lips quivered, but no words came out.
“She must’ve asked you to help.”
Curtis stared at her bitten lips, then suddenly made a surprising offer.
“I’ll teach you to dance.”
“…What?”
Roxana’s eyes flew wide open in shock. Curtis added playfully,
“It’s like putting pearls on a pig.”
Before she could protest, his large hand wrapped around her waist. With ease, he drew her in, and with his other hand, he gently held hers. Her slender waist and soft floral scent unsettled him. Her lowered lashes were the same red as her hair. He gave in to a sudden impulse.
“Take the lesson while I’m offering, Roxana.”
“I’ll teach you to swim too—so you won’t get swept away like a log again.”
His voice was teasing but gentle. The stern man from before briefly faded, replaced by a boyish smile.
Roxana, her guard momentarily lowered, let herself follow his lead. One step, then another—the waltz flowed smoothly and beautifully.
Fairy Festival. That’s what they’d called the gypsies’ night performance.
It felt like she was caught in a dream. The soft moonlight bathed their heads, while insects and birds created a quiet, natural symphony. Every rustling step in the grass added to the rhythm.
When the elegant waltz ended, Roxana finally snapped out of it.
“That should be enough for now.”
Curtis let go of her hands. But before he could step back, Roxana shoved him away with a look of clear rejection.
“Roxana.”
He frowned at her expression, full of resistance. She swallowed hard. That icy, piercing stare—it reminded her of the one that had glared at her from beneath a helmet.
“What is all this supposed to mean?”
The Russell siblings—both Frey and Curtis—were whimsical, cruel, and yet alluring. They could be sweet one moment, then coldly dismiss her the next.
At least Frey, being younger and more naïve, was somewhat readable. But the man before her was a complete mystery. He seemed to want her to respect him, but not fear him. He seemed to despise her—but not want her dead.
“You threw me into a convent to live miserably, then made me a maid. You couldn’t even stand to look at me. And yet, on the day I returned, you caught me when I fell. You mocked me for being foolish, and now this…”
She trailed off, stunned. Her eyes blinked wide.
Because her lips were now brushing against his fingers.
