There was no choice.
Not really.
He knew it.
She knew it.
She could refuse, could try to argue, but it would be pointless. He would have his way, one way or another. It was simpler, easier, to just...give in.
To let him have this small victory, this illusion of control.
It didn't matter, in the end. She would still learn to dance. She would still prepare for the celebration.
The only difference would be the teacher.
And the torment.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze, to not look away from the intensity of his red eyes. "Fine." She said, the word tasting like ash in her mouth. "If you insist."
He smiled, but it was a cold, sharp thing, more a baring of teeth than an expression of pleasure. "Good." He released her wrist, stepping back, creating a sliver of space between them. "Let's begin."
"In the middle of the bedroom-?"
"There is space enough for a stumbling cripple." He dismissed, gesturing for her to move toward the center of the room.
