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Hannah felt her cheeks go bright red in the blink of an eye. She was twelve, and in fact in just a few short years she knew it would be time to start receiving suitors—this was something discussed at the school time and time again. But alarm bells seemed to begin to sound in her mind, and tears stung her eyes! What was wrong with her? What was going on? "Miss?" asked Ivo softly, sounding concerned, and at once her distress doubled as she realized she was failing in her only prerogative in life, and she said, her voice only slightly choked, "Yes, I would be delighted." Ivo looked uncertain, but cautiously happy, and he took her hand and led her to the middle of their grand foyer. She followed his lead, gliding across the floor with grace to rival his, and she felt the whole family's eyes on them. She was doing everything right. They were working spectacularly together. And yet she wanted to die. When the song—which Hannah knew had been extended by the violinist—had ended, Ivo bowed deep and kissed her hand. "Thank you for the dance, miss," he said, and she opened her mouth to say The pleasure is mine, but instead she found all light and air leaving the room as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Moments later, with lights streaking around her, she realized that her feet were off the floor, and she was in Ivo's arms. She felt so very small, practically lost in her poofy pink dress. People spoke above her—Hannah, can you hear me?—Hannah, what happened?—Hannah, are you all right?—Hannah— HANNAH— She closed her eyes, willing true unconsciousness to take her. 'Twas not to be, and moments later she lay in a lovely guest bed, and had to assure them she was quite all right, and thank you for the water, and Sir Ivo it truly was the most lovely dance— And she was so glad when, half an hour later, she was again alone.
The rest of the holiday passed as one might expect. Every time she heard Ivo's name, she wanted to cry, and every time she heard Frederigo's name, she wanted to cry, but cry she did not, she only smiled and curtsied and chatted and danced and made merry in the most ladylike of ways. Only Jordana seemed to suspect something was wrong, but it was only a feeling; Hannah left behind no evidence. They returned to Lessing one day early, and Belboz was there. This was not unexpected; it had been some time since she had last seen him, and this was not the first time he had come directly to the school to see Hannah. Jordana greeted him politely, and he took Hannah to a fine eating establishment in the nearby town to have dinner. "You are verging on thirteen, my sweet," he said across the table. "Halfway through your studies. How are they going?" "Marvelously, Uncle Belboz," she said softly. "I can never thank you enough for your generous gift. Because of your kindness, I am learning so much. Surely my life will be entirely transformed because of it." For some reason Belboz seemed to snicker, but the expression was gone in a moment, and he said, "Your bunkmate, Jordana O'Farrell. Her father is a fairly famous knight. I understand you stayed with her family this holiday?" "I did, Uncle. They were very kind. It was a lovely holiday indeed." "So glad to hear it," said Belboz, grinning ear to ear. "But in particular I wanted to ask about...
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