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“You’re really sure about this?”
“Bit late to pull back now, mate.”
“They’re going to remember this for months. All eyes will be on you.”
“That’s the point.”
They stepped inside, to the announcer calling their names. The ballroom held its breath, everyone turning their eyes to the two of them. Shaw was looking as dashing as ever, in that well-fitted uniform, all blue and gold and radiating confidence. The guests knew him, of course, if by reputation and name only. In high society everyone was aware of the spymaster, and even strived to get to know him personally, for whatever dumb political game they were playing at the time.
But gazes lingered on Shaw very briefly. Instead, they were drawn to Flynn, and his layered, flowing dress. Bottle green – not only his favourite colour, but one that went great with his hair. Or so he’d been told. A red sash was tied around his waist with a neat bow, mostly to hide that beer belly he’d been carefully cultivating. He walked in high heels, though broad, as he didn’t fancy breaking his neck in stilettos. His hair was down, curled slightly with a little rose in them. All that together was guaranteed to keep all of the attention.
Tides. He was actually enjoying it.
The two of them made their way through the crowd, Flynn’s steps not as wobbly as he feared they would be, even if he had to be especially careful with each one. Someone winked at him as he passed, dangerously close to making him blush. Flynn Fairwind, in a getup like this. He never imagined wearing a dress would make him feel genuinely beautiful. And he hoped, truly, that Shaw felt the same about him.
What was intended as a distraction, a disguise, might just make its way to his wardrobe for good.
Wrapped around the spymaster’s arm, Flynn gave a small nod to the first person he recognised. King Greymane came their way, the crowd parting to let him through.
“Spymaster, Captain,” he smiled at them, the queen lingering somewhere behind him, locked in conversation she didn’t seem to be enjoying. “Looking glamorous tonight, hm?”
“Your Majesty,” Shaw gave a bow as proper as he could with his date hanging off him. “I hope you’re enjoying the ball.”
“Impeccable manners as always,” the king chuckled, turning to Flynn. “Is he like that at home, too?”
“Not if you know how to unwind him,” the sailor grinned, earning an even louder laugh. More eyes turned to them. Good.
Mathias elbowed him lightly. He was blushing.
“What?”
“Don’t be crude.”
“It’s quite alright, Master Shaw,” Greymane said. “It’s refreshing to hear such simple honesty among people with sticks up their asses.” The nobles closest to them heard the words clearly, and judging by that small smirk lifting the corner of the king’s handsome moustache, it was very much intentional.
Ah, politics. Flynn was missing the sea more each day. Though of course he’d be back soon enough, to the man who’d keep his bed warm and his thoughts occupied. And who just looked to the side with his beautiful eyes narrowed, like a panther zeroing in on prey.
Right. Focus.
“Excuse me,” Mathias said, nodding his head, disentangling himself from his partner, and promptly disappearing in the crowd.
Flynn didn’t watch him for long. He turned back to the king, teeth bared in what he realised was probably a very goofy looking grin. “He’s cute when he’s embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?” Greymane raised an eyebrow.
“He’s still not entirely used to being public with me. But that’s fine.”
“Master Shaw will get used to it faster than you expect.” The queen of Gilneas emerged from behind her husband, glamorous in her yellow dress, ruby jewellery, and with the widest smile on her face. “Captain.”
Flynn did his best impression of a curtsy, managing to at least not fall on his face. “Your Majesty.”
“Looking fantastic, Captain. The green really compliments your hair.”
The king turned to her. “Should I be jealous?”
“I’m sure you can allow me one dance, dear.”
“A dance?” Flynn blinked.
“If you’d like to, of course.”
Genn let out a hearty chuckle, stepping back to give them more space. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”
And to that, the sailor smiled, offering his hand to the lady. “I’m honoured.” At least a little bit of Shaw’s teaching stuck, it seemed. Hopefully he’d prove to be a half-decent dancer, too, as the drunken moves he’d been used to probably wouldn’t pass in such a posh setting.
Moving proved easy, somehow. He stepped lightly, following the queen’s lead, even if he was obviously and embarrassingly out of step. She held his hand, and laid one on his hip, easing him into a rhythm. Their skirts fluttered, gentle yellow against deep green, shimmering in the ballroom’s dim light. Mia certainly made it a very enjoyable experience. She was an elegant woman, ageing like fine wine, her features sharp, mature and frankly stunning; a lovely sight to hang his eyes on while trying not to knock them both over in the middle of the chamber.
As they span, he caught a glimpse of red hair in the crowd – no, behind the crowd. Mathias was talking to someone. A woman. And on the next spin, they were gone.
“Apologies for being exceptionally bad at this,” he said, looking the queen in the eye.
“Not bad at all, Captain,” she smiled. “You’re following well. Considering the clothes you’re in, I’d say very well.”
“Thank you,” he said, but let his eyes wander. The crowd was losing interest. It wouldn’t do.
So he tripped.
“Oh, my,” Mia held on to his arm, making his fall nowhere near as painful as it could’ve been, even though he did end up on his arse. “Are you alright?”
“Fine!” He made sure to say that loud, pretending to have difficulty pulling himself back to his feet. Someone from the crowd walked up to help him stand. “Thank you. I’m sorry, I guess I’m clumsier than we thought I am, hm?”
Didn’t take a spy to cut through that facade, but nobility had enough sense not to say anything to his face. He let the queen lead him back to the king, who at the very least didn’t look upset that Flynn had, quite obviously, tripped his way out of dancing with the man’s wife.
“It was quite the sight,” he nodded. “You really do look quite stunning in this dress, Captain.”
Before Flynn managed to respond – pretty sure he was blushing – Shaw walked up to them, looking stern as ever. And also a little flustered. “Alright, my dearest, that’s enough flirting with royalty, hm?”
“I doubt you have anything to worry about, Master Shaw,” Mia smiled, wrapping herself around her husband’s arm. “I have my man, and by any indication the good captain has eyes for you only.”
“I absolutely do.”
“Well,” the spy sighed through his nose, then smiled at the three of them. “I’m afraid I need to steal my date away for a while, if you’ll excuse us, Your Majesties.”
He didn’t wait very long for confirmation, knowing that he could get away with a little indecorum, at least from the Greymanes. He pulled Flynn through the crowd, deeper into the keep and away from prying stares. Hidden behind a column, he spoke in a low tone: “I need a breather…”
“Take all the time you need, love,” Flynn gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Looks like it all went well.”
“Hm?”
“Mhm. Made sure to keep all their attention. I don’t think anyone saw you.”
“Good,” Shaw sighed again. “Last thing we need is loose ends.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that. You’ve done as clean a job here as you could have,” Flynn nodded, eyeing the man before him. His undisturbed hair, flawless beard, impeccable uniform with not a single crease in it. Not a sign of what happened behind everyone’s backs. Not a drop of blood anywhere in sight.