In one fluid motion the man's body cuts past the captain, forcing him
to stumble and release Fiona for a moment. The man catches her arm
and twirls her into his, waltzing her back into the dance without
missing a step.
“I am acquainted with every variety of flower in my father's
kingdom,” he says, “Yet I am not acquainted with you.”
“No,” she giggles, smiling, “No you're not.”
He is very handsome, she thinks, in that noble kind of way. Square
jawed, solid cheek bones, deep blue eyes.
“Should I summon a burgomeister to make formal introduction?”
“No need,” she laughs, “I'm Fiona. Your father's kingdom?”
