she feels the proximity of her betrothed before he even reaches her,Β body already prepared for a dance sheβs memorised and intimately learnt:Β Β turn around, Β and beam, Β and look delighted enough to see your future husband.Β Β it all boils down to the optics, Β of making people certain of what they must believe.Β Β show everyone that your union will be strongΒ Β βΒ Β even if itβs been an eternally long, four hundred year engagement, Β even if by now you suspect it wonβt amount to anything.Β Β EVEN IF YOU ARE NAUGHT BUT ANOTHER PIECE ON YOUR FATHERβS CHESS BOARD.Β Β she, Β who is prepared to draw a welcoming grin across her faΓ§ade, Β stumbles after kazβs familiar teasing.Β Β this is a different dance of theirs, Β reserved only for their private amusement.Β Β and though she wants nothing more than to step on his foot, Β or unabashedly glare,Β Β the princess is painfully aware appearances must be maintained.Β Β so her lips do twist into the loveliest of smiles, Β the shape beneath sharp as a knife.Β Β Β βΒ Β Β kazamir.Β Β Β βΒ Β Β her greeting is poisonously sweet, Β innocent enough to whichever creature may hear it, Β Β yet her following words still drip the acidity heβll recognize so well.Β Β Β βΒ Β Β perhaps youβve been promised to the wrong sister, Β then.Β Β iβm certain the king wouldnβt mind changing things around for you.Β Β Β βΒ Β Β