"Thank you, Tony." Sabrina smiled as the rabbit bowed, before transforming into his smaller form and hopping away, presumably to ...well. Actually, she had no idea. Maybe he had a rabbit-wife or something. He probably did – he was a rabbit, after all.

She breathed deeply – the dance had gone better than she had anticipated, it had been a long time since she'd danced with an actual partner. Nobody else, including Tony, felt quite right as a partner.

She'd fit with Luciano.

No, no, not the time to let those feelings get to her – if she was going to cry, she should've done it when she'd been accused by Isabel of being a fake princess, at least she could've explained it then. Crying after she'd won and been cleared of wrongdoing (even if it was wrongdoing that she was guilty of) wouldn't look good.

She rubbed her eyes. No. She could just go back to her room and try not to think of him. Or the way he'd let her down. Or the way he'd left.

Where were her tissues?

"I told you not to dance with anybody else."

She looked up. Maybe she was imagining it. She always imagined him when she was practicing. Maybe this was like then. Either way, he was talking, so she should talk back. "I told you not to go."

"I had to." He replied simply, placing his hand on her shoulder as he guided her out of the dance hall. "It was an order from my father."

There wasn't really an answer to that. She looked at her feet, allowing him to guide her to the gardens of the palace – not the usual gardens, these gardens appeared to be private ones that she hadn't been aware of. That was a bit weird. "You could've tried to refuse him." She said at last, knowing his response.

"No, I couldn't. Any more than you could refuse your father." His removed his hand from her shoulder, and she instantly missed it. There was a pause as they walked around the garden. "Aren't you going to ask how I did?"

She frowned. "I'm imagining you, there's no point. You've won, of course, you're the best dancer in the kingdom. And the other kingdoms, from what I've seen."

He raised his eyebrows. "You're not imagining me. I'm here."

"You'd say that if I was imagining you." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly. I'm not stupid."

He touched her arm. "Real. See?"

"I could be imagining that, I know what it feels like when you do that." She replied simply.

An odd look came over his face. "What does it feel like?"

"Tingly. In a nice way." She replied matter-of-factly.

He appeared confused, putting his arms around her waist. "And this?"

She frowned. "I don't know, it's usually part of a dance step, and it doesn't usually last very long..." She placed her own arms around his neck. "No, that doesn't help."

He smirked slightly – it clearly helped him. "Do you believe I'm real yet?"

She closed her eyes, not wanting to think about this. It was easier to not think of him when her own psyche wasn't fighting her. She opened her eyes, expecting him to be gone. He wasn't. "Why are you here? I thought the competition was going to take up all of your time."

"I only competed in one event, the solo dancing." He spoke quietly. "I was meant to participate in more, but..."

She looked up at him. "Why didn't you?"

"I didn't have a partner." He replied simply.

"It didn't stop me." She pointed out. "I danced with a giant rabbit. Because my partner abandoned me."

"But I came back." He whispered, his thumbs moving across her waist. "I couldn't participate in the pair dancing because...you weren't there. You couldn't be my partner."

"That feels tingly too..." She muttered, presuming that he wasn't really paying attention. He was. "You didn't participate in the pairs...because...I wasn't there?"

"Dancing is about...trust. And...other...feelings." He chose his words carefully, but it didn't appear to be helping him. "With you...Things feel right."

"And they don't feel right with anyone else?" She asked, frowning, fairly sure that he wasn't real. The real Luciano would never do this.

"No. Not now I know how right it can feel. Does that make sense?"

"No." She frowned. "Why don't I understand something I'm imagining?"

"I'm real, Sabrina." He leaned his face close to hers. "Trust me. I'm real."

"Tell me something I can't know." She replied, ready to take him seriously.

He seemed to be thinking deeply.

So was she – biting her lip, she finally said "Wait. You've taken me somewhere I don't know."

He smiled triumphantly. "Yes. Yes, I have, haven't I?" He moved a hand to her cheek.

She blushed a little. "So you're really here."

"I'm really here." He smoothed her cheek. Her eyes closed, then opened again. He smiled slightly. "Still really here."

"And you're staying?" She whispered, looking up into his eyes.

"I'm staying."