"No, Your Grace, not like—oh!" Elias winced as Maximilian's foot came down squarely on his toes for the third time in as many minutes. It was just past ten in the evening, and they were attempting to practice in the grand ballroom of Maximilian's estate, with emphasis on "attempting."

  The formal invitation to Archduke Lucius's quarterly gathering had arrived the previous night—an elegant bck envelope delivered by a solemn courier. Maximilian had stared at it as though it contained his execution order rather than an invitation to a social event.

  "Quarterly gathering. Attendance mandatory. Dancing expected," he had muttered, his expression growing increasingly distressed. "Haven't attended in seventeen years."

  Elias, who had been examining a fascinating mechanical clock in the duke's study, had looked up in surprise. "You haven't attended the Archduke's gathering in seventeen years? How is that possible?"

  "Research exemptions," Maximilian had replied, still staring at the invitation. "Historical preservation. Critical artifact cataloging." He adjusted his gsses nervously. "No exemptions this quarter. Political... stuff."

  "Political stuff," Elias had repeated with an amused smile. "Very precise terminology, Your Grace."

  Maximilian had given him a pained look. "Political retionships. Consort introduction. Traditional protocol." He'd hesitated before adding, "Dancing required."

  And that was how they found themselves in the grand ballroom, surrounded by awkwardly hovering servants who were clearly trying not to ugh as the schorly Duke of the territory demonstrated all the grace of a newborn giraffe.

  "Perhaps we should try again from the beginning," Elias suggested, stepping back to demonstrate the starting position. "It's just a simple box step. One, two, three, four..." He moved his feet in what he hoped approximated a waltz step.

  The truth—which he carefully kept hidden—was that Elias had never properly learned to dance either. In Orlov's court, his role as decorative furniture meant standing elegantly against walls during formal events, not participating in them. His "knowledge" came entirely from watching countless dance performances while pretending not to exist, supplemented by a hasty tutorial from Morris before this evening's practice.

  "The traditional waltz has a fascinating history," Maximilian said, adjusting his completely unnecessary gsses as he attempted to mirror Elias's movement. "Originally considered scandalous in European courts due to the close physical contact. Popurized through royal approval in various—" His foot caught on the polished floor, sending him stumbling forward.

  Elias caught him with surprising quickness, his hands steadying the duke's shoulders. For a brief moment, they stood closer than the duke's usual three-foot safety zone, their faces inches apart.

  "Apologies," Maximilian said, immediately pulling back to his preferred distance. "A rather poor demonstration of cssical movement theory."

  "It happens to the best of us," Elias replied with his practiced court smile, though internally he was wondering how he would manage to guide this schorly disaster through an actual dance at the Archduke's gathering. His own ck of training was becoming increasingly apparent, though he hoped his natural grace might compensate for technical deficiencies.

  From the corner of his eye, Elias could see Morris and three other household staff members watching from the doorway, their expressions carefully controlled though their eyes betrayed their amusement.

  "Let's try with music," Elias suggested. "It might help with the timing."

  Morris, taking this as his cue, nodded to a staff member who approached an elegant sound system concealed within what appeared to be an antique cabinet. Another example of Maximilian's preservation of pre-evolution technology while maintaining traditional vampire aesthetics.

  The first notes of a waltz filled the ballroom, the sound quality remarkably clear. Elias took a steadying breath and extended his hand to Maximilian. "Shall we?"

  Maximilian stared at the offered hand with visible trepidation. "Lead position first? Then exchange. For practice purposes."

  "Of course," Elias agreed, though he had no idea which position was which. He'd simply copied what Morris had shown him earlier.

  Maximilian cautiously pced one hand on Elias's shoulder and allowed his other hand to be taken. The duke's expression was one of intense concentration, as though he were attempting to solve a complex mathematical equation rather than learn a simple dance.

  "One, two, three," Elias counted, beginning to move.

  The result was immediate chaos. Maximilian moved left when Elias moved right, then overcorrected and stepped on Elias's foot again. Their knees collided painfully, and their attempted turns resembled a machinery malfunction more than a dance.

  "Sorry. I'm not—this isn't—" Maximilian stumbled over words as badly as he stumbled over his feet.

  "Let's try again," Elias said with determined cheerfulness. "One, two, three..."

  For the next attempt, Elias deliberately slowed their pace to half the music's tempo, exaggerating each movement. This approach proved somewhat more successful—they managed six steps before disaster struck in the form of Maximilian miscalcuting a turn and nearly sending them both to the floor.

  From the doorway came the unmistakable sound of a quickly stifled ugh, followed by Morris clearing his throat loudly.

  "Your Grace," the butler called, "perhaps a demonstration would be helpful?"

  Maximilian looked relieved at the interruption. "Excellent suggestion. Visual learning. Highly effective."

  Morris entered the ballroom with dignified steps, accompanied by a female staff member who Elias recognized as the head housekeeper. They took position in the center of the floor and, at Morris's nod, the music began again.

  What followed was an elegant dispy of traditional waltz, executed with precision and grace. Morris led with confidence, guiding his partner through turns and steps that suddenly seemed far more complex than the simple box step Elias had been attempting to teach.

  Elias watched with growing dismay. The steps Morris was performing bore only a passing resembnce to what he'd shown Elias earlier. Clearly, the butler had given him the absolute basics, assuming Elias knew the rest.

  When the demonstration concluded, Morris bowed formally to his partner, then turned to Maximilian. "Does that crify the basic pattern, Your Grace?"

  "Extremely informative," Maximilian nodded, though his expression suggested it had merely confirmed his inadequacy rather than provided crity.

  Elias managed to maintain his confident smile despite the sinking feeling that he was now expected to replicate what he had just seen. "Shall we try again, Your Grace?"

  They resumed their positions, and the music began once more. This time, Elias attempted to incorporate some of the flourishes he'd observed in Morris's demonstration, with disastrous results. He stepped right when he should have stepped left, then tried to compensate by spinning Maximilian, who clearly wasn't prepared for the maneuver.

  The duke stumbled, Elias overbanced, and they both went down in an ungraceful heap of tangled limbs.

  A collective gasp came from the watching servants, followed by absolute silence.

  Elias found himself sprawled across Maximilian's chest, their faces inches apart, the duke's gsses askew. For a moment, neither moved, both too startled by their sudden proximity.

  "Are you injured, Your Grace?" Elias asked, acutely aware that this was the closest they had ever been.

  "Dignity somewhat compromised, but otherwise unharmed," Maximilian replied, his voice oddly strained.

  Elias carefully pushed himself up, offering a hand to help Maximilian rise. The duke hesitated only briefly before accepting the assistance, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

  "Perhaps we should take a brief recess," Elias suggested, brushing imaginary dust from his attire to hide his embarrassment.

  "Sensible suggestion," Maximilian agreed, adjusting his clothing with mechanical precision.

  Morris approached with remarkable composure, though Elias could detect the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Refreshments have been prepared in the adjacent salon, Your Grace."

  "Excellent timing," Maximilian nodded, clearly relieved for the interruption.

  As they moved toward the salon, Elias noticed Maximilian surreptitiously straightening his sleeves and adjusting his colr, as though trying to erase the physical memory of their collision.

  The salon was a comfortable space with elegant furniture and soft lighting. A silver tray held crystal gsses of warmed blood for Maximilian and a selection of both blood and actual food for Elias—another thoughtful accommodation of his unique dietary needs.

  "I fear I'm not proving to be a very effective teacher," Elias admitted once they were seated.

  Maximilian looked up from his gss with surprise. "You're an excellent teacher. I'm simply a... challenging student."

  "That's generous of you to say, but the truth is—" Elias hesitated, then decided honesty might be the best approach. "In Orlov's court, I was never actually allowed to dance. I was expected to stand decoratively by walls looking ornamental. Everything I know comes from watching others."

  Maximilian stared at him, his schorly mind visibly processing this new information. "You've never danced before?"

  "Not properly," Elias confirmed. "Morris gave me a quick lesson before we started, but..." He shrugged elegantly. "I'm as new to this as you are."

  A strange expression crossed Maximilian's face—something between astonishment and what might have been amusement. "So we have two novices attempting to teach each other a complex social ritual neither has performed before?"

  "It does seem rather absurd when you put it that way," Elias admitted.

  To his surprise, Maximilian's lips curved into a genuine smile—not the polite, restrained expression he usually maintained, but something warmer and more spontaneous. "Absolutely ridiculous," he agreed.

  Elias found himself returning the smile, not with his practiced court mask but with genuine warmth. "Completely preposterous."

  "Rather like two novice schors attempting to transte an ancient text neither has studied before," Maximilian added, his eyes now definitely showing amusement.

  "A catastrophe in formal attire," Elias continued, feeling a bubble of ughter rising in his chest.

  "A schorly disaster of historical proportions," Maximilian countered, and suddenly they were both ughing—Elias with unrestrained delight and Maximilian with a quiet chuckle that suggested the sound was unfamiliar to him.

  From the doorway, Morris observed this unprecedented development with well-concealed satisfaction before quietly withdrawing.

  When their ughter subsided, Elias found himself studying his husband with new interest. This brief moment of shared humor had transformed Maximilian's features, making him appear younger, less burdened by his schorly gravity.

  "Perhaps," Elias suggested, setting aside his gss, "we're approaching this incorrectly. Instead of trying to master all the complex steps, we could focus on just moving together without injury. Surely that would be sufficient for a single obligatory dance at the gathering?"

  Maximilian considered this, head tilted slightly in thought. "Simplified approach. Logical adaptation. Yes, that might work."

  They returned to the ballroom with renewed determination. This time, when the music began, they focused not on perfect form but on basic coordination—avoiding stepped toes and maintaining bance while moving in a simple pattern.

  "One, two, three," Maximilian counted quietly, his schorly precision proving useful for maintaining rhythm. "One, two, three..."

  To their mutual surprise, they began to move with something approaching coordination. It wasn't elegant or technically correct, but they were, undeniably, dancing.

  "This is... not terrible," Elias observed with cautious optimism as they completed a full circuit of the floor without mishap.

  "Rather like finding the rhythm in ancient poetry," Maximilian agreed, his focus now on their shared movement rather than his usual awkward self-consciousness.

  As the music continued, Elias became aware of a subtle shift. Maximilian's movements, initially stiff and mechanical, had begun to flow more naturally. The duke's innate grace—usually hidden beneath yers of schorly reserve—emerged as he momentarily forgot to be awkward.

  For just a few measures, they moved together with unexpected harmony, turning in perfect synchronization as though they had practiced for years rather than minutes. Maximilian's hand on Elias's waist guided him through a gentle turn with confident precision, their steps matching perfectly.

  The moment sted only briefly before Maximilian seemed to become aware of himself again. His movements immediately stiffened, and he nearly missed a step before recovering.

  "That was..." Elias began, unsure how to describe what had just happened.

  "A momentary grace," Maximilian supplied, adjusting his gsses as the music came to an end. "Like finding a perfectly preserved manuscript amid centuries of decay. Rare, but... illuminating."

  But Elias had seen something in that brief moment of grace—a glimpse of the man beneath the schorly facade, capable of unexpected elegance when he forgot to be self-conscious.

  "I think," Elias said carefully, "that we may survive the Archduke's gathering after all."

  Maximilian's expression returned to its usual studied neutrality, but something lingered in his eyes—a spark of the warmth that had emerged during their shared ughter.

  "Perhaps we won't become the subject of court balds about dancing disasters after all," he agreed.

  As they concluded the evening's practice, Elias found himself contempting this new facet of his schorly husband. The brief moment when Maximilian had forgotten his awkwardness revealed something compelling about him—a natural grace usually buried beneath self-consciousness and schorly reserve.

  It made Elias wonder what other aspects of Duke Maximilian remained hidden, waiting to be discovered beneath the carefully maintained facade. And more troublingly, it made him question his mission to spy on a man who was proving far more complex and intriguing than Orlov had led him to believe.

  The evening had begun with a dance lesson and ended with an unexpected revetion—not just about Maximilian's hidden capabilities, but about Elias's growing interest in discovering them.