Dagger didn't care that they were practically lying on the ground. She didn't even care that her reckless actions had made her hoops hold her skirt up like a tent behind her. She didn't even care that her Tiara was falling off, and she'd likely messed up her makeup with those fleeting tears. For that instant, none of it mattered -- not the party going on inside, nor politics and social status. There would be time for all of that soon enough, and eventually they would have to gather themselves up, shuffle inside, and she would have to act the part again.

For the moment, she merely enjoyed the feel of his hand against her hair, and the familiar smell of his skin. The past agonizing months dissolved away like a bad dream.

She wondered, when it was she'd started to rely on him so much.