[Lavinia's POV]
[Imperial Palace—Practice Room, a.k.a. Dance Floor of Doom]
"OUUUUUCH!!!"
Theon let out a very dramatic, very manly yelp as I once again landed my heel squarely on his foot for what had to be the fifth time.
"Princess," he groaned, hopping slightly on one leg like a limping knight, "are you… Are you trying to stab my poor legs with your heels?!"
I gasped in mock horror. "How dare you accuse me of such villainy!"
He pointed accusingly at his now-wounded pride (and toes). "You aimed for it, Your Highness. That was a precision strike!"
I quickly turned to Lady Evelyne, who was watching us with that serene teacher expression that said: I'm too elegant to get involved in this chaos.
I jabbed a finger toward her like I was exposing a traitor at court. "It was HER. She's teaching me wrong!"
Theon blinked. "Wait—what?!"
"She's deliberately setting me up to fail!" I declared, arms crossed dramatically. "Look at those moves! Too spinny! Too swooshy!"
