into the air. I look around but don't see where the music is coming from. It's loud enough that it's obviously part of the dancer’s performance, as she doesn't bat an eyelash at the loud sound.
She waves her hand at the audience and five people emerge from the crowd, all lining up equally distant from the ballerina. They are all wearing full-face white masks, making me frown as I study them.
They all start to dance, their moves smooth and organized, sort of a hip-hop style. Instantly there are plenty of crowd members, curious about the music and what other people are looking at. The ballerina joins the line of dancers, dancing along with the same moves.
I can't help but smile. Nika and Margot come stand by me, urging me forward a few steps to get closer to the performers. I study their faces, but I can't see much other than their blank white masks.
Margot leans in with a whisper. “They're quite good, aren't they?”
I don't take my eyes off the dancers, but I whisper back to her. “They are good. I don't know about the bloke at the end, he seems like he might not be a professional dancer like the rest of them. But they're all pretty decent.”
The ballerina gestures to the crowd again and six more people join them, white masks and street clothes on. My eye keeps wandering down to the guy at the end, who is honestly trying to do all the moves but seems to be partially failing.
Nika grasps my elbow, smiling at the dancers. “Doesn't this just lift your spirits?”
I give her a rueful smile. “It does, actually. Do you think that these dancers work on an hourly basis? And I just hire them to come and cheer me up whenever I'm feeling blue?”
Margot shushes me unexpectedly, nodding toward the ballerina. The ballerina heads toward us, a beatific smile on her face. Margot squeezes my forearm, earning a look from me. She has tears in her eyes and I wonder if being pregnant has made her a little bit more prone to cry or if she knows something that I don't.
The ballerina dances up to us, bowing elegantly and looking me straight in the eyes. She doesn't say anything, but she does hold out a hand. My cheeks burn bright red as I accept the invitation to dance. She pulls me toward the center of the wide circle of people.
The music rises, reaching a crescendo. The dancers all move into a triangle position and I dance along beside them despite not knowing the steps at all. All the dancers but one suddenly kneel.
One of the dancers is left standing, the awkward dancer. That one person walks over to me, reaching out and taking my hand.
Then he takes a knee, pushing his white mask up. My eyes widen as I realize that Lars is kneeling before me, looking more nervous than I think I've ever seen him. He pulls out a ring box.
“Oh god,” I gasp. “Lars, you planned all of this?”
My hands fly to my mouth, my heart beats so loud that I almost can't hear anything else. He cracks the box open and takes my hand.
Lars has to almost shout over the sound of the music, but he makes himself known. “Pippa, I did this for you because it's something that you like. I hate dancing but for you I will go anywhere, do anything. I did it because I love you, more than I can possibly say.”
I try to interject. “But what about my history and the royal family…”
Lars shakes his head. “What about it? I would rather be with you than to be part of any institution that wouldn't welcome you with open arms. I talked to Stellan and I think that we can work something out.”
My chin wobbles, my eyes brim with tears. I just nod, too overwhelmed for a long speech. “I love you too,” I say.
Lars doubles down on his proposition, as it were. “I know you've been my fake fiancé for too long, but I'm hoping that you will make it real. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”
My eyes fill with tears as I nod. “Yes. Yes, Lars.”
He frees the ring from its box, sliding it onto my finger beside my old engagement ring. I recognize it; it is the ring that I looked at for so long when we were at the jewler’s, a large princess cut diamond with sapphires around it.
He