The Ouroboros Cycle, Book One. G.D. Falksen
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gone?” James asked, craning his neck to look in every direction.
William sniffed the air and turned toward the dance floor.
“Dancing,” he said.
He could not see her yet, but he knew she was there. After a few moments he finally spotted her amid the sea of dancers, held in the arms of a tall man dressed in red. William was immediately on edge. To see his granddaughter on the dance floor was curious enough, but who was the strange young man dancing with her?
William watched Babette and the stranger dance. In spite of the huge difference in height, they moved with remarkable grace. And the way that Babette smiled.… William had never seen her so happy in the company of others.
A thought began to form somewhere in the back of William’s head.
“Oh my!” James exclaimed. “What is going on here?”
He was looking toward Babette and the stranger.
“It would appear that your daughter is dancing,” William said. “And having a wonderful time while she is at it.”
“But…but who is he?” James asked. “They haven’t been introduced, have they?”
William sniffed the air again, testing for the young stranger’s scent. It was difficult in the crowded room, with so many smells polluting the air. The room was thick with the strong musk of Louis des Louveteaux and the other old Scions and the weaker scent of the young ones, like Alfonse and his cousin Claire. They were all practically in heat. William scowled for a moment.
But though he could not find the stranger’s scent clearly, he knew that the man was no Scion.
“I could not say,” he told James. “I am certain I have not met him, but if he is here, he must have been invited.”
The servants were always very careful with the guest list. William made certain of that.
“Shouldn’t we stop them?” James asked, fidgeting.
“Why? You would rather she spend the night sitting alone? Or perhaps I should allow her to retire to the library. You know that she would much rather be there than here.”
“Nonsense,” James said, but his voice sounded uncertain. “Why isn’t she dancing with someone respectable, like Captain des Louveteaux?”
Alfonse.… William’s lips drew back in a snarl for a moment. James was foolishly impressed by Louis’s damnable son. For that matter, where was Alfonse? Surely his father had instructed him to begin courting Babette.
William followed Alfonse’s scent and spotted him to one side of the room. He was deep in conversation with Claire de Mirabeau. Alfonse was busy murmuring something of no importance, and Claire seemed to be enjoying every moment of it. William knew the look on their faces. If they tried to excuse themselves to some other part of the house, he would kill them.
Human youths were bad enough, but among the Blood the arrival of spring was like a curse from Nature.
“I believe young Alfonse is otherwise occupied,” William said, smiling at James. “But no matter. Your daughter appears to be having a wonderful time entirely without him.”
William looked back toward Alfonse and saw Louis berating him. It made William smile a little. His argument in the pit had been well founded. Louis was a fool if he thought he could attach Alfonse to anyone but his cousin, least of all William’s granddaughter.
“But is he of a good family?” James asked.
“Of course not,” William said, only half listening. “His lineage is rotten and inbred, like a bush in a swamp.”
“But you said you didn’t know him!” James exclaimed.
William looked back at him. “Oh, you mean the man who is dancing with Babette.”
“Of course!” James said. “Father, please take this more seriously! We are speaking of our own flesh and blood!” He looked back toward Babette and the stranger. “Is he even French?”
William place a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder.
“James, my boy,” he said, “do not fret. It is one dance. What could happen?”
* * * *
Babette felt like she was flying as Korbinian held her in his arms and they twirled together across the dance floor. She had never danced before, not properly at any rate. There had been lessons, of course, and childish dancing with Grandfather. But she had never before danced with a young man who was not her tutor.
She could not describe the exhilaration, not even to herself. Her heart pounded against her ribs and her head swam. The other dancers flashed past in a blur. All she could see was Korbinian’s face looking down upon her, the light of the lamps encircling his head like a gilded crown. Everything else melted away into a delicious haze until time itself drifted into the distance.
Babette was brought back to the world by the absence of music. She and Korbinian slowly spun to a stop. Babette blinked a few times to clear her head and saw that the dance had finished. She quickly pulled away from Korbinian. The others were looking at them. Babette suddenly felt very self-conscious. She was not used to caring about the opinions of others, which made the experience even worse.
“Dankeschön, fräulein,” Korbinian said, bowing. “You are a spirited dancer. Most delightful.”
“Thank you, Baron,” Babette said, concealing her pleasure at his words. “You are quite agreeable yourself.”
Korbinian chuckled and asked, “Are you already engaged for the next dance? Or might I impose upon you further?”
“It would be my—” Babette began. She was interrupted by her father’s voice.
“Babette!”
She turned and saw him step out of the crowd, moving toward her with as much haste as he could manage without causing undue attention.
“Babette,” Father said, taking her arm, “come with me. There is someone I wish you to meet.” He gave Korbinian a quick look. “Good evening, young man.”
Korbinian drew himself up proudly and bowed his head to Father.
“Good evening, sir,” he said. “I am Korbinian Alexander Albrecht Freiherr von Fuchsburg.”
“A pleasure,” Father said, clearly lying. “I trust you are enjoying yourself at my family’s ball. Good evening.”
Babette shook her head. Even in anger, her father maintained perfect decorum.
She cast a last look over her shoulder at Korbinian as Father led her away. Korbinian stood on the dance floor watching her with a small smile. His eyes never wavered until the crowd finally swallowed them up, and they vanished from sight.
Babette followed Father out of the ballroom and into the hall.
“Father, what is all this?” she asked. “Why did you take me from the ball?”
“Why did you dance with that man?” Father asked.
Babette stared at him.
“Because he asked me to,” she said. “That is the purpose of a ball, is it not?”
Father looked at her sternly.
“Now is not the time for wit, Babette. Do you even know who he is?”
“Of course,” Babette said, drawing herself and setting her most stubborn face. “He is the Baron von Fuchsburg.”
“Yes, but who introduced you?” Father demanded. “I did not, nor did your grandfather.”
Babette held her breath for a few moments before exhaling. Why did Father have to arrive and pull her away after only one dance? For the first time she had been enjoying herself in the company of her peers.
“We