CHAPTER 58
Azra'il - POV
I officially took over as Eris's dance partner the following day.
Edna accepted the substitution surprisingly quickly, with no protocol-based insistence at all. Her reasoning was purely pragmatic: first, Rudeus ran a real risk of needing a full orthopaedic reconstruction if he kept serving as a buffer for Eris's stumbles; second, the redhead showed an atypical docility when she was with me; and, lastly, my presence drastically reduced the odds of a pedagogical homicide occurring in the dance hall.
However, there was a crucial detail neither Edna nor Rudeus seemed to have considered.
Eris no longer had trouble memorising the step sequence. Her body, used to daily sword training, absorbed the turns with ease. The real obstacle arose when she realised she was being watched. She wasn't afraid of people; after all, whoever tries to attack Ghislaine with a wooden sword doesn't suffer from shyness. The problem was judgement. Eris hated the idea of failing in front of eyes waiting for her mistake.
If an opponent mocks you in combat, you can simply hit them with the hilt of your sword. At a noble ball, however, Asuran etiquette strictly forbade using physical aggression to silence guests' spiteful comments. A social limitation I considered almost bureaucratically cruel.
The lute and flute music started again in the emptied hall.
I led Eris slowly across the floor, keeping my hand firm on her waist. At first, her body was tense. She tried to anticipate every new movement, as if she wanted to attack the next step before it happened.
"Don't try to beat the music," I murmured, as we made a sideways transition.
"I'm not trying to beat anything!" she hissed, teeth clenched.
"You just tried to intimidate the third beat with your heel," I replied, keeping my tone calm. "The melody isn't an invader, Eris. Relax your shoulders."
We did another turn under the light crossing through the tall windows.
"Stop treating every curve like an ambush," I added.
"But the turn came out of nowhere!"
"I signalled with my shoulder."
"Your shoulder speaks too quietly!"
"It's your hearing that's too busy planning a retaliation," I countered, bearing her weight.
During a crossed step, she stepped directly onto my foot. I kept my expression perfectly impassive, showing no reaction at all. My silence seemed to irritate her infinitely more than if I'd complained.
She narrowed her red eyes, staring at my face with a mix of wounded pride and guilt. "That... didn't hurt?"
"It hurt," I replied, calmly.
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
"Because you finally hit the beat right."
She looked away, her cheeks flushing in a way that showed she was torn between the satisfaction of receiving a compliment and the guilt of having crushed my fingers. It was a very characteristic pride dynamic of hers.
From the corner of the hall, Edna watched us with a furrowed brow. She soon realised I wasn't teaching steps in the traditional way, but translating the choreography into the language Eris was fluent in.
The waltz's advance became closing combat distance; the retreat became creating space; the heel turn worked as a vector redirect; and the balance stance served as the centring needed to sustain a collision.
"I spent weeks trying to teach posture, alignment, and rhythm," Edna remarked, approaching us during a pause. "But you achieved the same result in so much less time."
"I merely translated the theory into her native language, Madam Edna," I replied.
"Lady Eris's native language is violence?"
"With a few death-threat dialects thrown in," I finished.
The tutor let out an exhausted sigh, but accepted it, deciding the method's effectiveness mattered more than any pedagogical purism.
After a few repetitions, Eris managed to execute an entire sequence in perfect harmony. Edna smiled, satisfied. Across the room, Rudeus, who'd been watching the training sitting in a chair, began applauding with excessive enthusiasm.
He stopped clapping and, with a clever-boy smile, let his eyes drift down along the movement of our bodies, fixing on the slit in Eris's dress that revealed the movement of her legs.
"You know...," he remarked aloud. "That closeness and the hip cadence... if I could suggest a few variations for the presentation day, I think the dance would be a lot warmer."
I turned my head towards him, keeping the dance step going.
"If you keep looking at us with that dirty-pig face, you perverted Chubby-Cheeks," I stated, "I'll make sure your next healing spell is for your own broken nose."
Rudeus took a step back, clearing his throat hurriedly. "I was merely assessing the fabric's resistance!"
"Focus your assessment on the wall before I decide to demonstrate the acceleration of an inanimate object into your face."
He swallowed and retreated, adopting a posture of exemplary prudence.
The second after Rudeus's applause, Eris's body stiffened again. She lost the timing and missed the next step, stumbling awkwardly.
The mistake wasn't technical in nature. It had been purely psychological. The perception of being closely evaluated had triggered her tension.
I decided to test the hypothesis right away.
I asked the musicians to look directly at Eris while playing, and asked Edna and Rudeus to fix their eyes squarely on Eris, without looking away.
The result was immediate. Eris gripped my hand hard, her shoulders rose up to her ears, she sped up her rhythm erratically, and kept her eyes fixed on the floor, losing sync entirely.
"The problem now isn't the dance, Eris," I remarked, stopping the movement.
"Then why do I keep getting it wrong?" she asked, ears red.
"The audience," I replied.
"I'm not afraid of audiences!" she exclaimed, puffing out her chest with her usual defensive aggression.
"I didn't say you were afraid," I countered, calmly. "I only said you want to defeat them before you even start."
She blinked, confused.
"Your body enters combat mode every time it senses people watching," I explained. "Since you can't hit the nobles who laugh at your mistakes, your energy gets pent up in your muscles. You tense up because you're trying to control other people's reactions. And that's something you can't control."
I presented Madam Edna with a gradual exposure proposal I'd successfully tested in other lives.
"We'll start the training with five members of the manor's staff present," I suggested. "In the following sessions, we'll call ten, then servants from other departments, and finally family members. Eris needs to get used to the feeling of being watched in an environment where no one will attack her."
Edna considered the proposal excellent good sense and set about organising everything.
That same afternoon, we summoned the first five spectators: a silverware maid, a lower-ranking butler, two north wing guards, and the head gardener. The staff members were so rigid they looked like they were awaiting a punishment. Everyone knew about the young heiress's explosive temperament and feared any misjudged reaction would result in a heavy object colliding with their heads.
"You should merely observe," I instructed the staff, standing beside Eris in the centre of the hall.
The head gardener, visibly uncomfortable, raised his hand. "Miss Azra'il... do we clap when she's done? Or is it better to stay quiet?"
"Clap if she does well," I replied, pragmatic. "If she makes a mistake, pretend you're looking at the ceiling."
A tense silence settled over the hall. Eris nearly combusted with rage at hearing my comment, her hands trembling with the urge to grab the training sword.
"Perhaps," I remarked, looking at the gardener, "using a less strict survival protocol would be wiser. Just watch in silence."
They all nodded quickly.
The music started again. I led Eris across the floorboards. The presence of those five pairs of unmoving eyes made her tense her legs during the first bars, but my firm touch and the lute's steady rhythm worked as a stable anchor. Gradually, Eris's breathing fell in line with mine, and she completed the sequence without kicking my foot.
At the following day's session, Lady Hilda decided to attend quietly to observe the training's progress.
As a pragmatic mother, Hilda didn't treat Eris like a fragile creature. She sat beside Edna and watched our dance attentively.
While Hilda watched us dance, she noticed something that caught her attention: Eris trusted me in a way she trusted no one else in the household except Ghislaine.
Eris let me lead her weight without pulling back. She accepted my posture corrections without trying to break the furniture. She listened to my instructions without shouting. And, most importantly, every time she felt lost in the rhythm, her golden eyes sought mine involuntarily.
For Eris, lowering her guard like that was the equivalent of signing a peace treaty.
"Curious...," Hilda murmured to Edna, while watching her daughter execute a turn under my lead.
"What is, Lady Hilda?" the tutor asked.
"My daughter," Hilda replied, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "She's letting Azra'il lead the movements without complaining. I've never seen her lower her guard like that with anyone."
Edna looked surprised. "Indeed, Lady Eris has never allowed anyone else to lead her like this."
Hilda smiled faintly. "Neither have I."
During the execution of a turn, I moved closer to Eris and placed my hand on her shoulder, correcting the alignment of her posture. She relaxed her muscles instantly under my touch.
"She dances better when she's with you," Hilda remarked from her chair, watching the gesture.
"She dances better when she's not trying to break my foot, Lady Hilda," I replied, keeping my tone serious.
Hilda laughed softly. "Of course, dear. That's exactly what I meant."
Later, Philip also made an appearance in the hall, but he brought with him a new load of tension for Eris. She wanted her father's approval so intensely her body locked up instantly at any word from him.
During a transition, Philip decided to intervene with the best of intentions: "You're doing really well, Eris."
Eris missed the step the second after Philip's compliment, painfully colliding her knee with mine.
I stopped the music with a hand gesture and turned to face him with the calmest, most expressionless face I possessed.
"Lord Philip," I said.
"Yes, Azra'il?"
"Please, don't compliment her right now. When you compliment her, she gets nervous trying to impress you and ends up stepping on me. Just nod at the end if you think she did well."
Philip stared at me for a second, surprised by the audacity of an eight-year-old, let out a contained laugh, and nodded. "Fine, I'll stay quiet."
From that moment on, he remained silent, and Eris's dance flowed steadily.
The most chaotic test of our exposure training happened on the afternoon Sauros decided to storm into the dance hall with all the delicacy of an avalanche.
He crossed the doorway, clicking his heels and bellowing in his booming voice:
"SHOW THEM HOW A BOREAS DANCES! NO ONE WILL LAUGH AT MY GRANDDAUGHTER AFTER THIS!"
The acoustic impact of Sauros's voice was so great that Eris lost her balance and nearly fell.
I raised my hand, signalling the musicians to stop, and faced the family patriarch with my arms crossed.
"Lord Sauros," I said.
"WHAT? SOME PROBLEM WITH MY GRANDDAUGHTER'S TRAINING, AZRA'IL?"
"You already shout loudly enough to frighten the horses in the stables," I explained. "If you shout like that up close, Eris will miss the step just from the fright. Stay quiet and just watch."
Sauros stared at me with his wide, round eyes, let out a monumental guffaw that made the windowpanes rattle, and slapped his thigh. "HA! YOU'VE GOT SPIRIT, WHIPPERSNAPPER! FINE, I'LL BE AS QUIET AS A STONE!"
He genuinely tried to keep his promise of silence. His effort at restraint lasted exactly eight seconds before he started whispering instructions audible from outside the castle. We decided his presence would be limited, for the sake of preserving everyone's hearing.
The most complex step of our training was simulating noble hostility.
I understood that applause and attentive, approving looks no longer represented the obstacle Eris would face at the banquet. The real risk lay in the muffled whispers behind fans, the sarcastic glances, and the discreet snickers of the Asuran aristocrats who'd be waiting for her slightest mistake to destroy the Boreas house's reputation with gossip.
I proposed to Madam Edna that we instruct the bravest members of staff to simulate exactly that hostile behaviour.
Edna showed an expression of deep moral horror at the request. "You want the servants to publicly mock Lady Eris?"
"Not for real," I replied. "I want them to whisper and fidget with their fans, the way boring Asuran nobles do."
"I don't see much of a difference," the tutor remarked, with the seriousness of someone who knew the aristocracy.
"Exactly," I agreed.
Hilda personally selected the staff members with enough composure to take part in the exercise. Under my instructions, they were arranged along the walls holding decorative fans. They were meant to trade low-voiced whispers, gesture ironically, and let out muffled giggles every time Eris executed a step in our dance.
Eris stiffened the instant the first simulated whispers filled the hall's air. Her muscles contracted with fury, and her step tempo began speeding up erratically due to her instinctive urge to turn on the walls and hit the servants pretending to mock her.
I kept my hand firm on her waist, stopping her from breaking away from the dance.
"Don't look at them, Eris," I whispered softly against her ear, as we executed a side step.
"They're laughing at me!" she hissed, her hot breath hitting my neck, mixing with the faint fragrance she wore.
"Ignore them," I replied.
"But I can hear them!"
"Then focus on the music. And... on me. It's just the two of us here."
Eris raised her red eyes, staring at my face with a feverish intensity. Her pupils were dilated, focused entirely on the firmness of my gaze.
"You're not dancing to convince them, Eris," I went on, keeping my hand firm on hers, guiding her through a smooth turn.
"Then who am I dancing for, exactly?" she asked, her voice coming out in a barely audible whisper, her chest rising and falling against mine.
I looked deep into her crimson eyes, letting my usual coldness of voice take on a warmth I rarely showed. "For the rhythm. And, for now... solely and exclusively for me."
Those words seemed to create an invisible barrier around the two of us.
Eris's body relaxed under my touch. The tension locking her legs dissipated, and she began moving according to the physical suggestions I sent through the grip of her hand and the contact at her waist. She stopped monitoring the servants' whispers. Her world shrank dramatically, narrowing down to the melody's beat and the closeness of my physical presence in the hall.
However, not everything went as expected, and later we faced a session where the technical progress nearly collapsed entirely.
It was on a rainy morning, under the direct observation of Philip and Hilda.
Eris was tired from the extended dance lessons and made three serious step-timing errors in a row right at the start of the official melody. Frustrated with her own performance, she violently let go of my hand and stepped back twice, her chest rising and falling with contained rage.
"I hate this!" she shouted, tears of humiliation threatening to spill from her golden eyes. "All of you are looking at me like you're just waiting for the moment I'll really fail and ruin the whole family!"
Before Edna could formulate any word of comfort, or Philip could attempt a fatherly approach, Eris turned on her heel and ran towards the side exit, slamming the oak doors shut behind her.
Rudeus stood up from his chair, worried. "Are you going after her, Azra'il?"
"Not this time," I replied, calmly.
"But why?" Edna asked, distressed. "The banquet is approaching and every hour of training is precious."
"Because she already knows the way back," I explained. "If she wants to learn, she'll come back on her own. Someone's growth only happens when that person chooses to return under their own power, without needing anyone to carry their hand along the way."
The dance hall remained in absolute silence for the next half hour.
Rudeus and Philip exchanged worried glances, but respected my decision not to force the situation. Time trickled slowly past the tall windows, marked only by the sound of autumn rain hitting the glass.
At the exact moment Edna was preparing to declare that morning's session over, the oak door slowly opened.
Eris stood in the doorway.
Her cheeks were still slightly flushed and her red hair was dishevelled, but she held her head up, fists clenched at her sides. She walked with firm steps across the floor, stopping exactly in front of me in the middle of the dance hall.
She offered no formal apology, her pride as a Boreas noble still forbade such a concession, but she reached out and took my hand firmly, her golden eyes fixed on mine with unshakeable determination.
"Music," she ordered, turning to the musicians.
The musicians started the official melody again without waiting for Edna's cue. I led her across the floor, and the performance that followed had a fluidity and stability surpassing all our previous attempts that week. She'd chosen to be there, and that choice made her internal energy align perfectly with mine.
The climax of our gradual training regimen came at the final practice session before the following week's banquet.
We'd gathered approximately twenty staff members arranged along the walls, along with the official presence of Edna, Rudeus, Hilda, Philip, and Sauros, who'd been positioned at the farthest end to mitigate the impact of his spontaneous outbursts.
The official melody began with the lute's solemn chords.
Eris started the movement tensely. Her fingers gripped my hand hard on the first bar, and she nearly lost sync on the side step when the servants' simulated whispers began filling the hall's air.
Instead of offering any verbal correction that might distract her from the rhythm, I limited myself to applying a light, firm squeeze to her warm fingers, conveying the needed stability through touch alone.
Eris took a deep breath, drawing in the hall's air deeply.
She raised her golden eyes, focusing her visual attention entirely on my face and the movement of my body. She ignored the whispers from the walls, ignored Philip and Hilda's gazes, and let herself be guided by my firm lead across the oak floorboards.
Every step transition was executed with impeccable precision. Every sideways heel turn happened smoothly and in perfect coordination. Our dance flowed with a beauty and rhythmic synchrony that seemed to fill the emptied hall.
The music came to an end on a long chord, sustained by the musicians.
Eris and I settled into the final resting posture with perfect stability, our hands still joined and our bodies close, her breathing slightly quickened against my training tunic.
None of the staff along the walls dared applaud or show any immediate reaction. Everyone stayed in absolute silence, eyes fixed on Sauros's face, awaiting official guidance on whether the approval protocol was authorised.
Sauros broke the hall's calm with a monumental roar that shook the dust loose from the oak ceiling beams:
"THAT WAS ABSOLUTELY EXTRAORDINARY! NO ONE WILL LAUGH AT MY GRANDDAUGHTER AFTER THIS!"
Eris was so startled by her grandfather's sudden shout that her body jumped sideways involuntarily, making her step directly onto my foot, after the performance had already ended.
I slowly lowered my gaze to my crushed boot, then raised my head to look at her face with the most neutral expression in my repertoire.
"Technically, the dance performance had already concluded before this last physical incident," I observed, calmly.
Eris flashed a mischievous, victorious grin, cheeks flushed with the excitement of getting it right. "Since Grandpa's shout happened after the music ended, that step doesn't count!"
"I'll accept that legal interpretation for the purposes of preserving your behavioural average," I replied, keeping my tone serious, though the corner of my lips curved slightly in silent approval, which she didn't miss.
Edna stepped towards us holding a clipboard, with the expression of someone who'd completed her most difficult mission with absolute success.
"Lady Eris's dance technique is fully consolidated for the banquet, Miss Azra'il," she declared, with a deep sigh of relief. "Now, there's only one last structural detail we need to organise before the great event."
The dance hall fell into sudden stillness.
Eris paled, her red eyes widening as she anticipated the worst.
"And what would that last detail be, Madam Edna?" I asked, sensing the approach of a new domestic crisis of biblical proportions.
"We need to hold the entrance rehearsal using the official imported silk gown and the traditional debutante ornaments Lady Hilda commissioned for the occasion," the tutor explained, with the calm of someone who considered the matter a simple formality.
Eris stepped back at once, her face showing the despair of a warrior realising her combat armour had been replaced with a highly movement-restrictive gala outfit.
"Can't I just walk in?" she asked, her voice coming out in an almost panicked tone.
"No," Edna replied, implacably.
I watched Eris's genuine panic as she involuntarily sought my eyes, looking for some technical miracle to save her from that new imported-silk torment.
〈Eos, if I run now, can I still reach the gate before Madam Edna finishes explaining the dress protocols?〉
[Estimate: 37% chance of success.]
〈Too low. I'll stay until I find a suitable substitute.〉