“Is it because you’re a robot that you can learn just by watching?” she asked, as he twirled her and then brought her in close to his broad chest.
“The implants and enhancements in my brain certainly play a part in my rapid acquisition of knowledge,” he agreed equably. He frowned down at her. “But…am I breaking a social custom, as I did when I drew you close to my side? Should I not be dancing with you?”
“Well…It’s not usual for a girl’s chaperone and Constant Companion to dance with her,” Rissa said hesitantly. “But then again, most chaperones are older ladies like Lady Mildew—not, er, robots. Or cyborgs, excuse me. And I do not believe there is any social law actually forbidding me to dance with my Companion.”
“Good,” James said shortly. “Because I intend to dance with you the rest of the ball. That will keep the Duke away from you.”
“Oh, you cannot do that!” Rissa exclaimed. “It would be most improper for you to monopolize me in that way all evening.”
He frowned.
“Fine. Then I will be sure to end this dance across the ballroom from wherever the Duke is and you can take another partner there. One who will not attempt to molest you,” he added, frowning like a thundercloud. “When you are finished with that dance, I will dance with you again and make certain you end up away from the Duke long enough to choose another non-threatening partner.”
“But I don’t choose my partners—the man must ask the lady to dance,” Rissa objected.
“Then if no one asks you, I will dance with you whether it is proper or not,” he said, frowning. “But under no circumstances will you dance with the Duke again!”
He seemed so certain that Rissa hardly dared to contradict him. And besides, she really didn’t like the idea of dancing anymore dances with Lord Grabbington anyway. James’s plan seemed like a good one. If it worked, she would dance every other dance with her new bodyguard and all the other dances would be with inoffensive partners, keeping her far from the sticky fingers of the Duke.
“Very well,” she said. “We shall do as you say—though I am afraid it may cause some talk among the Court.”
“I don’t care what people say as long as you’re safe, Princess,” James said, frowning.
It was the second time he’d said such a thing and Rissa couldn’t help thinking how very refreshing it was to hear such sentiments from her new Constant Companion. All her life she’d been in the public eye, groomed to appear the perfect Princess in every way.
Even when she got overheated, ill, or mentally stressed, she was still expected to keep on dancing, keep smiling, keep on keeping up appearances. How many times had Lady Mildew harangued her into “doing her Royal Duty,” even when she felt bad?
But now James was saying the exact opposite—that she must put her own health and well-being before the all-important appearance of propriety.
He is saying that I as a person am more important than my Royal image, Rissa thought. The idea was both novel and refreshing and she liked her new bodyguard for expressing it.
In fact, she liked him for more than his unique ideas, she had to admit. The big Kindred was so strong and tall and when he held her close to dance, she smelled his cologne—a clean, icy scent that reminded her of winter winds whipping through tall, craggy mountains.
His scent was very different from the thick, oily fragrances used by most of the Court. The men’s scents, especially, could be peppery and musky and overpowering—they often made Rissa sneeze. And of course, the big Kindred’s cologne was infinitely preferable to Duke Grabbington’s miasma of alcohol and smoke.
Before her thoughts could carry her too far, though, Rissa realized that she was being ridiculous. The big Kindred might be tall and handsome, but he was still just a robot—or rather, a cyborg, as he had called himself. He had said several times that he had no emotions—that was the very reason he had been chosen as her chaperone and Constant Companion.
I must not let any foolish thoughts come into my head about him, she lectured herself sternly, as he spun her effortlessly around the dance floor. He is my only my guard and it is just for a little while, until I find a husband and ascend to the throne.
So she told herself as they put James’s plan into action. She danced every other dance with an inoffensive partner and every other dance with James, who always contrived to set her down somewhere away from the Duke, so that another man had the chance to lead her to the dance floor before Grabbington could get anywhere near her.
Once or twice, Rissa caught a glimpse of his face in the crowd—it grew redder and angrier as the night wore on. His dark scowl made her uneasy and she wondered if maybe she ought to dance at least once more with him before the ball was over. But somehow, she never seemed to get around to it and before she knew it, the ball was over and everyone was saying their goodnights and filing out of the Grand Ballroom.