His first ball as a full-fledged knight started when a page tripped and dumped wine on his tunic, but it could only go uphilll from there.

When the dancing began, he tried to ignore his stained tunic and asked a lady to dance with his most gallant bow. She laughed. He blushed and tried to walk away as casually as possible. Not casually enough, judging by the giggles of the court ladies on the sides of the ballroom.

"Having trouble, Cavall?"

"I beg your pardon?" Wyldon said, stiffly. He turned and his mouth dropped open before he could stop it.

The voice had come from a young lady, garbed in a burgundy silk gown. Her ash-blonde hair was braided in a crown around her head, and her blue eyes were sparkling, and she was probably the most beautiful girl Wyldon had ever seen.

The girl smiled. It was not a court smile, all subtleties and hints and slyness, but a true smile. "I saw your knighting. Is it true you're one of the best jousters at court?"

"I've only been a knight for a month," Wyldon said. "My lady."

"How modest of you." Her eyes danced.

He wasn't sure if she was mocking him. "Indeed," he said, his voice neutral.

She glanced around at the dancers surrounding them, then back to him. "Do you plan on asking another lady to dance?" she asked. She stepped closer to him.

Wyldon was sure he was sweating. He tried to remain calm. "That depends. May I ask your name, fair lady?"

"I am Lady Cythera of Elden, sir knight." She curtsied to precisely the proper degree.

He returned a bow, but he might have been shaking. Cythera of Elden, widely acknowledged to be the most beautiful lady at court! And she wanted to dance with him.

"Sir Wyldon of Cavall," he said. "I — would you care to dance?"

Cythera smiled again. "I would."

He led her into a waltz with as much grace as he could muster. Across the ballroom, ladies whispered and men glared. Wyldon was dancing with Cythera.

And it was glorious. The dance changed and she was twirling, twirling. Wyldon's breath caught in his throat as he watched every change in her face, the wild sparkle in her eyes, the quirk of her eyebrows like a challenge. Then she stopped.

"What?" he said.

She just shook her head. A few tendrils of hair escaped her braid and fell in front of her eyes. "I need some air," she said.

"There's no chaperone," he began.

She glanced at him sideways, flicked her eyes up to his face. "It's just out in the courtyard."

He let her pull him out the doors and down the flower-edged path.

The night was cool, but not cold. Beside him, Cythera walked with her head tilted up to the stars. Wyldon wiped his hands on his hose and looked over at her, then back at his feet.

"You're lucky," she said.

"I am?"

She looked at him then. "You'll have adventures, and do great things." She sighed. "Do you ever feel like you're going nowhere?"

He kicked an iris that had grown out over the path. "I hope I'm going somewhere."

"You are," she said confidently. "You've got your knighthood, haven't you?"

"And yet here I am, at a silly, little ball." He turned to her. "Oh, no, I didn't mean…"

"Yes, you did." Cythera shrugged. "It might seem silly. But court life, it can be lovely… sometimes."

"Sometimes," he echoed.

When they arrived back at the ballroom, she laid her hand on his arm and smiled.

"Look me up when you get back from your next posting," she said.

"Of course, Lady Cythera."

He watched her disappear into the crowd of silk skirts.

Disclaimer: The world and characters of Tortall belong to Tamora Pierce, not to me.

This was written for Elvensmith for the Secret Admirer Exchange at Goldenlake. It's Wyldon of Cavall/Cythera of Elden (who eventually becomes Cythera of Naxen, Gary's wife).