Bosomella inched toward a decorative maple, hoping to view the dancing lesson from a slightly safer location. If Miss Borka’s new legs were to be used as deadly projectiles at least the slim branches would shield her face from permanent scaring if not totally rule out the possibility of broken bones. But after hours of walking and turning and slowly slowly spinning, Miss Borka called for the groom to be her partner and instructed a group of nervous squires to begin playing a gentle waltz. There were several unfortunate incidents and one of the squires did indeed garner a puffy purpled eye but by the end of the day Miss Borka walked tall and lovely across the courtyard, her face fierce and proud, and I couldn’t help the gleam that must have shot between us as we made eye contact. My mistress was going to the ball and that snobby excuse for a prince didn’t have the breath of a chance. This year, he would finally make his choice.
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