“Is something the matter darling?” Yshana replaced her chalice as well. Marked concern was in her voice. It was sincere and real as the memory of pain.
“Yes there is,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“What’s wrong?” Her brows furrowed and Dwyn fought back the urge to fall in love with her all over again, right there on the spot.
He stood, chair sliding back behind him as if politely bowing out of the way. He crossed over to her, stopped at her side. His eyes were locked onto hers with an unblinking stare. Then he smiled, beaming with confidence.
“We’re not dancing.” Dwyn’s hand extended to Yshana, palm open and welcoming. “May I have this dance?”
She smiled back, accepted the offer by setting a hand into his. “I’ll indulge you for a while, if you think you can keep up.”
In a moment’s passing they were lost in a sea of rhythm and music. The entire world beyond that one room ceased to be, if only for an hour. Their feet danced lightly, like stepping on the wind, blissfully swaying to the tune of “River of Dreams.” Ana’s favorite.
Dwyn twirled his partner. She stretched to a pose as graceful as a swan, countertwirled, returned to her lover. It was executed flawlessly. The motion repeated, but during the finale Dwyn took Yshana in his arms and held her up, they both spun in circles. When it was time to place her feet on the floor, he instead dipped her low. Their eyes never broke fixation, and in the candlelight it was like smoke billowing against fire, or lava giving life to ash. The heat was undeniable.
The music quieted. His heart beat hard, doom-doom-doom. Dwyn gazed at Yshana as candlelight rolled off of her like melting butter over blackberry toast.