Bunta's feet move almost on autopilot through the motions of the dance. He needs a moment to process his disappointment, and to then let go of it.

"Well, you're right that it doesn't matter. The arrangement was decided, and there's no changing it. You have it a little backwards, though: he didn't give the princess to me."

The music swells again. He meets her eyes and smiles.

"He gave me to the princess."