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"Will you dance with me, General?"
The question was posed so softly that Anharion nearly missed it, and for a moment, he wondered if he imagined it. But Sarcean's gaze was focused so intently on him that he knew it not to be so. He was waiting for an answer.
"I beg your pardon?" Anharion took another step back, instinctive. "I believe that constitutes as—"
Improper. But did it? The Sun King gave him leave to dance, so long as he left it at that. But Anharion suspected his permission extended to every person in the Sun Room, save for the man he currently spoke to. The only man he had interest in speaking to.
The Sun King hosts a masquerade to celebrate his engagement to the Lady and to honor his Sun General.