"What kind of idiot doesn't know how to waltz?" Davorin asked sharply through gritted teeth

He held you tightly against his chest as the flames roared around you, pulling you aside as wooden beams crashed to the ground from above, coating your clothes in dust. The palace was collapsing.

The situation was far from ideal but the two of you had little choice. Keeping the flames from burning your skin was draining your mana fast and so you had to depend on eachother to escape.

Together you held on tight and span around to an imaginary beat, taking turns teleporting the other through the crumbling castle. It was a bizarre dance of survival, but a necessary one, timing was paramount, one wrong step and you would run out of magical energy. Dooming you both to the blaze.

The fire itself of course, was his fault. He had attacked the castle to gain advantage within the war between the two kingdoms. His homeland of Abrosta, and yours, the great nation of Tyne.

You were two royal mages, sworn to two different kings, but he could not leave someone as valuable as you to die with all the others.

"Gods be damned! Pick up your feet! One, two, three...One, two, three, Go!"