From the corner of my eye, I saw King Thone enter the
ballroom, unremarked amid the first swirl of dancing. To myself, I applauded
the way he contrived to rejoin the festivities without calling attention to himself;
and I noted that he had managed to change parts of his apparel, thus
eliminating the marks of Cashon’s persuasion. In a moment, he garnered a
partner for himself—the wife of one of his dependents—and busied himself
about the task of pretending that nothing had happened.
Even
Mage Ryzel tucked his Sceptre under his arm and took a woman to dance—a girl
who gazed at him as if he were the highlight of her life. Thus he also played
his part. Soon it appeared that only Count Thornden and I were not dancing. He
remained aloof, too fierce for such pastimes. And I—Apparently there were no
men in the room bold enough to approach me.
Stiffly,
I turned to remove myself from the path of the dancers. My thought was to gain
the edge of the whirl and there to watch and listen until I found my chance to
slip away unobserved. I did not enjoy what I felt as I saw the youngest
daughters of the least consequential families outshine me. But when I left my
place in the centre of the ballroom, I nearly collided with the servant Wallin.
He had
exchanged his livery for a plain broadcloth coat, clean and well-fitting but
neither formal nor festive—a garment which emphasized his extreme handsomeness
by its very simplicity. He took advantage of my surprise by slipping one arm
about my waist, grasping my hand, and pulling me into the music.
A
servant. The same servant who had proclaimed a desire for my person. In my
first confusion as he commandeered me, the only thing about him which was not
surprising was the fact that he danced excellently. Whatever else he was, I
did not take him for a man who would have placed himself in this position if he
had lacked the appropriate graces.
For
half a turn of the ballroom, I simply clung to him and let him lead me while I
sought to clear my head. His physical nearness, the strength of his arms, the
scent of him—half kitchen-sweat, half raw soap—all served to confound me. But
then I caught Ryzel’s eye as we danced past him, and his nod of approval
brought me to myself. He conveyed the clear impression that he saw my dancing—and
my partner—as a gambit I had prepared for the occasion, so that I would not
appear foolish when no man freely asked my company. And the other guests who noticed
me did so with curiosity, startlement, and speculation in their eyes, sharing
Ryzel’s assumption—or perhaps thinking that I had in fact chosen Wallin to be
my husband.
The
Mage gave me too much credit—and revealed that he had had no hand in Wallin’s
behaviour. With an effort, I mastered my confusion. Leaning closer to Wallin, I
said so that only he would hear me, “You are fond of risks.”
“My
lady?” I seemed to feel his voice through his broad chest.
“If the
steward discovers that you have left your duties, you will lose them
altogether. You are a servant, not the scion of some rich nobleman. Even men of
goodly aspect and astonishing presumption must have work in order to eat.”
He
chuckled softly, almost intimately. “Tonight I do not covet either work or
food, my lady.”
“Then
you are either a hero or a fool,” I replied tartly, seeking an emotional
distance from him. “Did you see Count Thornden’s gaze upon us? Already he has
marked you for death. King Thone surely will not wish you well. And Queen
Damia—” Would not her blood seethe to see me dancing with a man who was
handsomer than any who courted her? “You would be wiser to test your audacity
upon her.”
“Ah, my
lady.” His amusement seemed genuine; but his eyes were watchful as we circled.
Watchful and brown, as soft as fine fur. “It would delight me to be able to
thrill you with my courage. Unfortunately, I am in no such peril. I am merely a
servant, beneath the notice of monarchs.” Then he
ballroom, unremarked amid the first swirl of dancing. To myself, I applauded
the way he contrived to rejoin the festivities without calling attention to himself;
and I noted that he had managed to change parts of his apparel, thus
eliminating the marks of Cashon’s persuasion. In a moment, he garnered a
partner for himself—the wife of one of his dependents—and busied himself
about the task of pretending that nothing had happened.
Even
Mage Ryzel tucked his Sceptre under his arm and took a woman to dance—a girl
who gazed at him as if he were the highlight of her life. Thus he also played
his part. Soon it appeared that only Count Thornden and I were not dancing. He
remained aloof, too fierce for such pastimes. And I—Apparently there were no
men in the room bold enough to approach me.
Stiffly,
I turned to remove myself from the path of the dancers. My thought was to gain
the edge of the whirl and there to watch and listen until I found my chance to
slip away unobserved. I did not enjoy what I felt as I saw the youngest
daughters of the least consequential families outshine me. But when I left my
place in the centre of the ballroom, I nearly collided with the servant Wallin.
He had
exchanged his livery for a plain broadcloth coat, clean and well-fitting but
neither formal nor festive—a garment which emphasized his extreme handsomeness
by its very simplicity. He took advantage of my surprise by slipping one arm
about my waist, grasping my hand, and pulling me into the music.
A
servant. The same servant who had proclaimed a desire for my person. In my
first confusion as he commandeered me, the only thing about him which was not
surprising was the fact that he danced excellently. Whatever else he was, I
did not take him for a man who would have placed himself in this position if he
had lacked the appropriate graces.
For
half a turn of the ballroom, I simply clung to him and let him lead me while I
sought to clear my head. His physical nearness, the strength of his arms, the
scent of him—half kitchen-sweat, half raw soap—all served to confound me. But
then I caught Ryzel’s eye as we danced past him, and his nod of approval
brought me to myself. He conveyed the clear impression that he saw my dancing—and
my partner—as a gambit I had prepared for the occasion, so that I would not
appear foolish when no man freely asked my company. And the other guests who noticed
me did so with curiosity, startlement, and speculation in their eyes, sharing
Ryzel’s assumption—or perhaps thinking that I had in fact chosen Wallin to be
my husband.
The
Mage gave me too much credit—and revealed that he had had no hand in Wallin’s
behaviour. With an effort, I mastered my confusion. Leaning closer to Wallin, I
said so that only he would hear me, “You are fond of risks.”
“My
lady?” I seemed to feel his voice through his broad chest.
“If the
steward discovers that you have left your duties, you will lose them
altogether. You are a servant, not the scion of some rich nobleman. Even men of
goodly aspect and astonishing presumption must have work in order to eat.”
He
chuckled softly, almost intimately. “Tonight I do not covet either work or
food, my lady.”
“Then
you are either a hero or a fool,” I replied tartly, seeking an emotional
distance from him. “Did you see Count Thornden’s gaze upon us? Already he has
marked you for death. King Thone surely will not wish you well. And Queen
Damia—” Would not her blood seethe to see me dancing with a man who was
handsomer than any who courted her? “You would be wiser to test your audacity
upon her.”
“Ah, my
lady.” His amusement seemed genuine; but his eyes were watchful as we circled.
Watchful and brown, as soft as fine fur. “It would delight me to be able to
thrill you with my courage. Unfortunately, I am in no such peril. I am merely a
servant, beneath the notice of monarchs.” Then he
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