He was watching her, hardly blinking. His body was tense, his jaw ticking.
She turned around, heart beating fast.
‘What is the tailor doing here?’ she asked her brother, keeping her voice low. Mustafa glanced over at Azam, and by then, Irfan and Shahmir joined them as well, crowding around her.
‘In case you have any wardrobe malfunctions, of course,’ Mustafa replied, taking a sip of juice.
‘Is she asking about the tailor?’ Shahmir asked, taking a drink.
Mustafa nodded.
Sonya let out an exasperated breath, trying not to frown. It was so much easier to try and forget Azam when he wasn’t in front of her. How was she supposed to choose a suitor when her first choice was standing in the sidelines, wanting nothing to do with her?
‘It’s a party!’ Irfan said. ‘Cheer up. Why don’t you go and have a dance with one of your suitors? I’m sure you’ll have fun.’
Sonya nodded, trying to distract herself with the revelry of the ball.
The ballroom was full of light, decorated with white and pink flowers, the mirrors’ reflections creating double the effect. People were talking and drinking and dancing, everyone dressed in their very finest.
Sonya took a deep breath, then approached the first suitor she saw. The marquess’s son. He had shiny black hair and dark eyes. He was very quiet, and she could see why Mustafa liked him.
They danced in silence, though she could see he was searching for something to say.
‘It’s very loud in here,’ Sonya said, as they moved across the room.
‘I agree,’ he said. ‘I must say I prefer a quiet library to such parties.’
She smiled. ‘I would prefer that at the moment, as well.’
The ballroom was overwhelming, and they finished their dance in silence, which was companionable, if a little awkward.
Next, she danced with the earl, who was very tall and had golden hair.
‘You look marvelous,’ he told her, giving her a charming smile. ‘A rare jewel.’
‘Are you referring to the jewels I am wearing, or to me?’ she asked boldly.
He laughed out loud, blue eyes sparkling. ‘It is not difficult to decide which is more beautiful; you surpass the jewels by far.’
She smiled as they danced around the room, her feet hardly touching the ground.
Then, she danced with the duke’s son, who had a beard and looked to be the oldest of the suitors. He was not as quiet as the marquess’s son, nor as bold as the earl, but a steady middle.
‘Are your feet tired, yet?’ he asked, as the dance began. His brown eyes were warm.
‘They are,’ she admitted. ‘I had lessons earlier in the day, as well, so I feel as if I have been dancing all day.’
‘Do you enjoy dancing?’ he asked, and she was about to respond when she glanced at Azam across the room.
She recalled dancing with him, how much she had enjoyed it then.
‘Princess?’ the duke’s son asked again.
She turned back to him. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Yes, I do enjoy dancing.’
Though only with a certain partner.Her heart twisted painfully.
After the dance was finished, she excused herself. She went straight to the dessert table and placed a gulab jamun on her plate. She took a bite of the soft and spongy delicacy, the syrup filling her mouth. It was her favorite sweet, but even that did not do much to improve her mood.
