Chapter Twenty-Two
We are still dancing when guests begin to leave, but we are no longer swing dancing or doing anything crazy or remotely tiring. We are just swaying in small circles. I don't remember how we came down to this gentle rocking. I have one of Nehemiah's hands in mine and his palm is rough, but also smooth. There are a few callouses here and there and I know that they are from gripping a sword, but right now it does not seem to matter. I rest my head in the little groove just below his shoulder and close my eyes, but through my closed eyelids I can still see the sparkling lights that are strung and I smile softly, wearily. I am tired, but I am also competitive. I don't want to lose, so I don't stop swaying. Neither does Nehemiah. His arms tighten around me slightly and I resist the urge to do th
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