Proceed to a quiet place.

You and Madeline find a small table in a draped, private alcove. Nearby, guests chatter on, serving themselves portions of the second course that’s just come out and swiping goblets and cheese from carried platters. Madeline’s hearty troop of attendants isn’t far, still playing cards at one of the ballroom’s rowdier tables. You both settle into your seats and watch the commotion for a little while.

“Would you miss them?” you ask.

“Yes,” Madeline says. “And the wilds. And the freedom.”

You smile sadly, nodding. “I wouldn’t want to take you from that.”

“You wouldn’t be taking me from anything.” She looks at you from the corners of her eyes and grins. “I’d throw myself in, full tilt.”

“You...would?”

“Aye. There are things I’d miss about the life I lead, but truth be told it’s been different anyway, ever since I got my title. I got a title I don’t know how to use, but all of the attention that comes with it anyway. I say I would miss the wilds, and the freedom, and my mates, but truth is: I already do miss it. It’s already gone.”

“That’s sad.”

“A little.”

You reach out, touch her fingers with the barest of yours. “You could make a run for it,” you say.

She smiles. “Not my style. Besides, I like you, turns out.” Her face reddens, and she turns away. “I can see this -- working, that is. I can see you teaching me to lead like the steps of a dance. And, if anyone ever tries to conquer us or our allies, well.” Her face hardens, yet still somehow stays cheery -- a barbarian in the throe of combat. “I’d get to show off what my old life gave me.”

“You really would, then. You’d agree to stay here with me?”

She looks at you, eyes twinkling with something sly. “How about we slip away from here, Samantha? There’s a mettle about you I haven’t got to test yet.”

“A mettle?”

She winks. “Come on. Party’s getting droll now that food’s in bellies anyway."