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“Stand straight.”
Two slow steps forward, then two quick, in a sidestep. Simple.
“Do keep your arms up.”
Slow, slow, quick-quick. Slow, slow, quick-quick. Slow-
“Eyes off the ground, Inquisitor.”
Quick, slow - wait, no - fuck, he'd stepped on Josie’s foot again.
His advisor halted with a tiny, put-upon sigh and gently extricated her hand from his grip. “A lady is not a wheelbarrow to be pushed along with brute strength, Your Worship. The aim is not to drive your partner about with your arms, but to lead with your body.”
“That's what I'm trying to do!”
Josephine pursed her lips at the frustration bleeding into his voice. “I...had thought you were exaggerating, when you told me you could not dance at all. I see I was mistaken.”
“No shit,” Dex snickered.
“Shut up,” snapped Nero. His brother just grinned at the glare sent his way, arms folded over the back of his chair. “Do we really have to do this? We’re going there to stop a fucking assassination , not to play nice with the Orlesians.”
“Inquisitor, the Game is not a trivial matter. One wrong step could-”
“Undo an entire month’s worth of careful negotiations, I know.” He'd certainly heard it often enough.
“Then please take this more seriously.”
Nero was trying. He was . But in truth, he simply had no stomach for the Orlesians and their damnable Game. The deceit, the trading of secrets, of ruination and pushing down of others for personal gain, the tiptoeing around things that could be much better discussed outright - none of it. He dragged a hand down his face with a heavy sigh. ‘ Just play the part, right? ’
Josie took pity on him. “Perhaps I moved you along too quickly. Let us begin again.”
She rested both hands on his shoulders, then, rather than settle into the frame he expected. A smile curved her mouth at the way his arms hovered, half-raised. “You may relax your arms. This is an exercise to help you master the art of leading your partner. Now, lean into my hands.”
He did, with some hesitation, and slowly tipped his weight forward until Josephine took a step back. It...felt much better, actually, as they progressed across the room. A more steady drive to the movements compared to his earlier choppy attempts. It remained even when Josephine settled them back into a dance frame.
Until they started in on the waltz, at least.
Fuck the waltz.
They began with solo box steps, which Nero mostly managed - even felt slightly less like a landed fish, at least until he had a partner framed in his arms and a tempo to try and match. Estelle played and hummed a lovely melody to accompany their steps, slow and sweet and paced for a novice to follow, while Josephine talked him through the steps. The music flowed in a way that might have been pleasant under other circumstances. Now even the steady press of her fingers on the keys felt mocking.
So, so simple in theory, but if he focused on his footwork he lost the beat, and if he focused on the beat he lost track of which foot he was meant to be stepping with, and trod yet again on the diplomat’s toes despite looking right at them . And they expected him to carry on a conversation while he danced? Not a damn chance. In set of her shoulders and the ever-thinning line of her mouth, lips pressed together - Josie read frustration, loud and clear. Even Essie gave him concerned glances from the piano bench, and his brother-
“Think we should have Dagna design some shoes with metal toes, Josephine? You’ll have bruises at this rate.”
Nero whirled out of the dance hold mid-stride. “Fuck off, nobody asked you!”
“Gentlemen, please. Arguing will not help.” Josie sighed and folded her hands. “Perhaps it would be best to continue your lessons tomorrow, Your Worship. There is still the matter of the Wardens and where they will be deployed, after all. I have left several pertinent reports on your desk. Please look them over before this evening’s discussions.”
A muscle in Nero’s jaw jumped, but he nodded and gave Josephine a stiff bow.
If he also smacked Dex hard over the back of the head as he stalked out, well. He had it coming.