The prince bowed, flawlessly, extending a hand. He was elegant, refined, his every movement the whisper of wind through the trees – the glow of moonbeams on sparkling water. The very nearness of him threw her heart into frantic beating, as if some caged bird fought within her to be free.
Shyly, she smiled – lowering her delicate eyelashes in nervousness as he led her to an open area beneath the stretching bows. Cheeks flushed pink with fear and excitement she trembled in his arms, while the music swelled.
“Do not fear, Lady Mirwen, the first dance is always the hardest.”