Chapter 168: Chapter Hundred And Sixty Seven

She walked slowly toward the long refreshment tables lining the wall. She reached her hand out and picked up a crystal glass of sweet red wine. She took a slow, quiet sip, letting the sweet liquid warm her throat.

She leaned her back gently against a large, white stone pillar. She watched the dancing partners spin gracefully on the floor.

"Finally," Camilla thought to herself, her internal voice sighing with relief. "A moment of quiet. That dress change took forever, but at least the dress grandfather gave me is actually comfortable. It is so light, I feel like I am wearing nothing at all."

She took another small sip of her wine.

Across the large room, near the opposite wall, Damon and Allen were standing close together. They were completely ignoring the rest of the party. Their eyes were locked entirely onto the small, beautiful figure standing by the pillar.

Allen raised his crystal wine glass. He slowly swirled the deep red contents of his glass, watching the dark liquid spin. But his eyes never left Damon’s tense, stiff profile for a long second.

Allen noticed how tightly Damon’s jaw was clenched. He saw the way Damon’s eyes burned with an intense, quiet flame as he watched his wife drink her wine.

Allen let out a soft, highly amused chuckle.

"Cousin," Allen spoke quietly, his voice smooth and clear over the sound of the violins. He took a small sip of his drink. "I heard a very interesting rumor from the servants."

Damon did not reply. He did not turn his head. He stood perfectly still, his broad shoulders set straight under his attire.

Allen continued anyway, his voice full of gentle, teasing mockery. "The servants said you and your beautiful wife are not on very good terms lately. They said you two do not get along well at all. They said you even sleep in the study just to avoid her."

Damon’s left hand, which was resting near the hilt of his heavy sword, tightened slightly. He kept his eyes locked on Camilla, but his face turned a tiny bit darker.

Allen saw his reaction and smiled a wide, highly confident smile. He decided to push his cousin’s buttons a little bit more.

"Since you do not get along with her," Allen proposed smoothly, tilting his glass toward Camilla. "And since you don’t want to dance with her... can I dance with her for you? It would be a terrible shame to let such a beautiful lady stand all alone by a pillar for the entire evening."

The words had barely left Allen’s mouth when Damon acted.

Damon turned his head slowly.

He looked directly at his cousin. His dark brown eyes were almost completely black with a silent, murderous warning.

Allen felt the sudden, freezing drop in the air. He almost dropped his wine glass.

"Seems you are less busy than I thought, Allen," Damon spoke. His deep voice was incredibly low, cold, and carrying a deadly weight.

He took a step closer to his cousin, towering over him.

"Since you have plenty of free time in your hands to meddle in my marriage," Damon continued, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper, "why don’t you use that free time to go down to the courtyard? You can clean the horse stables for the rest of the night. I am sure the stable boys would appreciate your help."

Allen’s confident smile instantly vanished from his face. He swallowed hard. He knew Damon was not joking. If he pushed his cousin any further, Damon would actually have the guards drag him to the stables in his expensive suit.

Allen shook his head rapidly. He took a small step backward.

"Come to think of it," Allen said quickly, his voice shaking just a tiny bit. He forced a nervous laugh. "I am actually quite busy tonight. I have some very important guests to speak with."

He did not wait for Damon to reply. Allen quickly turned around, took his wine glass, and left Damon’s side, disappearing into the crowd as fast as his legs could carry him.

Damon stood alone for a second. He slowly raised his hand and dusted his coat, smoothing the fabric over his broad shoulders. He took a deep, steadying breath to calm the hot, dark rage of jealousy inside his chest.

Then, Damon began to walk.

He walked slowly across the floorboards of the ballroom.

The crowd of whispering nobles quickly noticed the General moving. They immediately stopped their conversations and stepped back, parting like a red sea to open a clear path for him.

Camilla saw him coming. She saw his tall, broad figure walking directly toward her. She set her crystal wine glass down onto the table behind her. Her heart gave a sudden, unexpected, and very hard thump against her ribs.

Damon stopped walking when he was standing just a few inches away from her.

He looked down at her face. The dress made her pale skin look like pure ivory. Her thick, red curly hair was pinned up elegantly, exposing her smooth neck and her pale shoulders.

Damon slowly bent his waist. He bowed his head deeply and respectfully to his wife.

He stretched out his large, rough right hand toward her. His palm was open, waiting.

"My lady," Damon spoke out loud. His deep voice was incredibly soft, warm, and full of a quiet, intense respect. "Would you do me the absolute honor of having this first waltz with me?"

Camilla looked at his large hand. She saw the small, white scars on his fingers from his years of sword training. Then, she slowly lifted her eyes and looked at his face.

She felt a sudden rush of nervousness. She did not want to step onto the floor in front of hundreds of watching eyes.

Camilla shook her head slightly from side to side. She leaned forward a tiny bit and whispered very softly.

"I can’t dance," Camilla confessed.

It was the absolute truth. Her life as an assassin didn’t need things like this. She only learned how to jump off buildings, how to shoot guns, and how to throw knives with perfect precision. But she had never, ever learned how to dance a slow, traditional waltz. She did not know the steps.

Damon kept his hand stretched out. His eyes softened completely as he looked at her nervous expression.

"I’ll teach you," Damon replied softly.

His voice was so gentle, so full of quiet reassurance, that Camilla could not find a single reason to refuse him.

She took a slow, deep breath. She raised her hand and placed her delicate fingers gently into his large, warm palm. Damon closed his hand securely around hers, his grip firm and protective.

He guided her smoothly onto the center of the dance floor.

The other dancing couples slowly parted, leaving a large, open space in the middle of the floor for the General and the Lady of the house. Hundreds of eyes were watching them in complete, hushed silence.

Damon stopped. He turned his body to face her.

He carefully raised his right hand and placed his large, warm palm gently on her waist, right over the thin, light silk of her dress. Camilla raised her left hand and placed it flat against his broad, firm shoulder. Their other hands remained joined, held up in the air between them.

The physical contact was incredibly close and overwhelming. Camilla could feel the intense heat radiating from his massive body.

"Just follow my steps," Damon whispered.

He took his first step forward with his left foot.

Stomp.

"Sorry!" Camilla said quickly.

Her shoe had stepped directly, and very heavily, onto the top of Damon’s boot.