Illoia stared after the lass and her infant as they returned to the dance floor, and then she turned back to her food. She spent as long as she dared eating, then turned to find Tom, again talking with the chaplain, but with his eyes on her. Seeing she was done, he bowed to the chaplain, and started across the room.
He arrived just as the dance finished, and she was just wondering if she would be forced to speak to him again, when the music started up, a tune, and rhythm, that she didn’t know. Tom grinned, and took her by both hands and launched them into the dance.
She did her best to follow him, but she didn’t know this dance at all, and it was very quick. Luckily, most of the others there seemed to know it quite well, and pretty much everyone had joined in (even the short, stout lass was snatched up by a taller but stouter New Irish Middy, and whirled violently into the melee without even a preliminary tap), and there was nothing particularly complicated, and certainly nothing exact, about the steps… which seemed to consist of moving very quickly one way, stamping your feet, and moving very quickly the other way… all the while trying, and all too often failing to avoid running into other dancers.
A few seconds into the dance someone started singing, in New Irish, and the dance got even wilder as about half the crowd joined in. The steps got, not faster per se, but more violent. She was glad she had worn so many petticoats as skirts all over the room were flying wildly each time the couples would stop.
Illoia was soon winded, and could think of nothing but breathing and keeping her feet going. It seemed an eternity before the dance ended and got to spend a few seconds breathing.
The music started again and she relaxed. The tune was a well known one, and indicated a dance that only married couples could dance without a Article II violation. So she was shocked when Tom pulled her close and moved her onto the floor.
“We can’t!” She whispered, urgently.
“We can,” he whispered back. “I have your guardians permission, and your consent. You are my consented wife.”
Her view over his shoulder showed her all of the married couples quietly dancing… she had no idea how even married couples were allowed to do this under Article IV… and all of the unmarried couples and children were all ranged around the edge of the room watching and eating. Most of them seemed to be staring at her!
Despite the fact that none of them seemed to be frowning at this massive breach, and the fact that her own partner had assured her this was acceptable, Illoia kept frantically trying not to glance around for some authority figure to come and tap them on the shoulder and trying not to imagine the resulting beating she would get.
Tom, on the other hand, danced quietly, humming in her ear… that was how close they were! She couldn’t even look in his face. And their hands! This dance required them to put their hands on each other’s backside.
She felt his hands move and heard a change in her husband’s hum and blushed. He certainly was enjoying this far, far more than propriety allowed. She almost wished they would just register and find some privacy… it would at least be less nerve wracking than this. Perhaps these low class events were always like this. Perhaps there was even kissing!
She almost melted with relief when that dance ended and the music began another, slower, Fennelian rhythm and she could resume the arms length contact with her partner.
Who seemed to have nothing else to say. He seemed content to dance, hum, grin, and stare at her and off at the crowd.
Which was quite a crowd. There were no wall flowers left, just a few of the older children hovering around the food table, and some of the older married couples talking quietly while watching the younger people dance.
She even saw the ship captain come in at one point, look around, smile, and leave. She wondered if this dance had been his idea; if he was hoping to gain points with the dictator for so successfully implementing Article 17.
Thank you for reading Von’s Substack. I would love it if you commented! I love hearing from readers, especially critical comments. I would love to start more letter exchanges, so if there’s a subject you’re interested in, get writing and tag me!
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Thanks again, God Bless, Soli Deo gloria,
Von
Links
Article 17
Intro // Podcast Version
She was pretty, popular, snobby, and a planetary governor’s daughter. He was the son of shopkeepers, a social misfit, and a decorated hero. She thought she was there to dance. He had other ideas.
A Dance // Podcast Version
As a governor’s daughter, Illoia usually avoided such events, but when the captain made the announcement that there was to be an Article 17 dance, she, too, was forced to attend. If only the scum hadn’t been there too.
The Unbridgeable Chasm // Podcast Version
Eukles and Meriones, brave military leaders, quail at cross the gulf between themselves and asking a lass to dance.
There He Is // Podcast Version
The young hero comes in, and Aleshia and Illoyia gossip about him.
Look at the Young Hero // Podcast Version
The young hero comes in, and greets Eukles and Meriones… and announces his intentions.
Target // Podcast Version
Tom, Leader Cladin Tomirosh, sets his sights on the governors daughter. She isn’t impressed.
Fuming // Podcast Version
Tom and Illoia dance, while she desperately tries to get him to go away!
Now’s Our Chance!
Eukles and Meriones use Tom and Illoia as a distraction and stalk their own girls.
To Slap or Not to Slap // Podcast Version
Meriones introduces himself to his new wife with a slap on the backside.
No Sane Man // Podcast Version
Illoia insults the young hero, and he proposes.
I just happened upon it so I did not read any other chapters-definitely will. It stood alone very nicely for me though I missed some of the context, I was immediately pulled into the dance dynamic between the two mains 😊
How quickly you developed interesting characters- it is my first read of your writing and I look forward to enjoying many more!