"I have not agreed to a marriage," I say. He smiles and opens his mouth to respond and then someone walks directly into my back. I turn. A young man with olive skin and dark hair looks at me with a sheepish smile, green eyes moving across my face with an expression I cannot immediately name. Something in it sits slightly off, slightly too attentive for a stranger on a dance floor, but his voice when it comes is easy and warm. "I am so sorry," he says. "Completely my fault." "It is fine," I tell him, and it is, because he means it. He is younger than most people here tonight, lean and tall, and there is something faintly familiar about the line of his eyes that I cannot place before a hand closes around his arm from behind. His twin. Or close enough to it. Similar features, similar age, same dark colouring, but where the first one looked at me with warmth this one looks at me with something considerably more guarded. He pulls his brother back without speaking and the two of them mo
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