by Sharon Shinn
“We need a word with several parts,” said one of the other young lords. “Like waterfall. We could act that out in two sections.”
Toland mimed slipping and falling to the floor. “Like that?”
“Yes, but what would we do for water?” Kirra asked.
“Maybe we need something that would be really hard to guess,” Amalie said. “Like counterfeit.”
“Are they giving prizes for things that are impossible?” someone inquired.
“I think it should be an easy word,” Toland said.
Kirra gave him a nudge. “Like what? Got a word in mind?”
He grinned at her. “Like drink.” He downed his glass of wine, set it on a table, and motioned a servant to refill it.
“Like curtsey,” Kirra said, attempting the maneuver while wearing trousers, which caused a general laugh.
“Like smile,” said Toland.
“Like kiss,” Kirra suggested.
It was the word they had all been circling around, and there was a nervous, speculative laugh from the men. “Shouldn’t it be something harder than that?” Amalie asked.
Kirra was smirking at Toland, poking him in the side. “So? Kiss? What do you think? How would we act that out?”
He grinned back, tossing his head a little. “You just want to start trouble.”
“I just want to play the game! Asking you a simple question. How would you act it out? Can you think of a way?”
A certain deviltry crept into Toland’s expression. “Well, let’s see. I’d take someone’s hand—” He caught Amalie’s fingers in his. Her face registered just a faint touch of alarm. “And I’d pull her closer to me—”
“I don’t think I like this word,” Amalie said. She put her free hand against his chest and pushed. But Toland was the sort of man who rather liked a little struggle, and her rejection just made him hold her closer.
“And I’d put my hand under her chin—” he said, suiting action to the words and dropping his mouth very close to hers. “And then—”
“Toland, don’t,” Amalie pleaded. “Everyone is staring.”
“Then I’d kiss her.”
Then he kissed her.
Then he caught on fire.
Shrieking, he flung the princess away; she stumbled into Valri’s arms. Still screaming, he beat at the flames on his chest, his thighs, with hands that were also on fire. Flames licked from his hair, down his spine. He spun from side to side, waving his arms, crying, but all his friends backed away from him, stunned, horrified. Everyone else in the room pressed closer, staring or calling out in panic or covering their eyes and turning away. Kirra didn’t even see Tayse drive through the crowd, but suddenly there he was, sword tip held directly to Toland’s burning throat.
As abruptly as the blaze had started, it went out. For a moment there was dead silence except for the sound of Toland’s hard breathing, edged with a whimper. Kirra could see the singe marks on his shirt and shoes, but his skin looked whole, unharmed. He had not been hurt, merely terrified.
Senneth stood before him, her face cold as dead coals. “Never. Touch. The princess. Again,” she said, dropping each word like a separate stone. “You—” She swept her icy gaze around the other men standing nearby, stupefied and blank. “Any of you—” She pulled back and sent a look that covered everyone in the room. “Anyone. If you harm her, if you touch her without her permission, you are dead.”
Not a soul in the entire room moved or spoke. Toland stood absolutely immobile, his eyes flicking desperately between Senneth, on his right, and Tayse, inches away from him with a blade to his throat. Clearly he was afraid to even take a deep breath. “I won’t,” he whispered. “I didn’t—I was only playing.”
“Find someone else to play with,” Senneth said.
“Yes. Serra. I’m sorry. Serra.”
Senneth watched him another long moment, then gave a sharp nod. Tayse sheathed his sword, offered a small bow that could have been directed at Senneth, Amalie, or even Toland, and spun around. The crowd parted for him as he strode back to the door.
Senneth gave her own little acknowledgment to the entire room, an abbreviated curtsey. “Sorry to disrupt your game,” she said in a cool voice. “Please, continue.”
And she stepped back against the wall again and commenced to try for invisibility. Harder to pull off when everyone was still staring at her, but she did manage to look much less dangerous than she had a few moments ago. Toland’s friends closed around him in a murmuring circle. By the time Toland thought to look for Raegon a few minutes later, Kirra had already hidden behind a column and transformed herself to Casserah.
She stepped briskly up to Amalie and inspected the girl’s flushed face. “That was an edifying scene,” she said in Casserah’s cool voice. “Would you like to come sit quietly by me for a while? I’m not sure you’ll enjoy the rest of the game.”
Indeed, Toland and the men of her party had completely turned their backs on the princess and looked unlikely to even speak to her for the rest of the night—perhaps ever. Valri seemed relieved to see Amalie trail off behind Casserah, in every way an acceptable chaperone. The queen turned to ask Senneth a question. Kirra saw Senneth laugh and nod.
Kirra found a few unoccupied chairs grouped together and pulled Amalie down beside her. Everyone sitting nearby hastily cleared out. Kirra smiled; Amalie looked wistful.
“Now no one will even speak to me for the rest of the time I’m here,” the princess said. “They’ll be afraid of what Senneth will do.”
“You’re in a difficult situation,” Kirra admitted. “But that’s something you have to remember. You’re not like other girls. You cannot mingle freely. You always have to realize that you’re different and you could be in danger.”
Amalie gave her a very direct look from those huge dark eyes. “It sounds very lonely.”
“I imagine it will be.”
“I’ve been lonely so long. I thought it would be different now.”
The words caught Kirra completely by surprise. Had she been herself, she would have leaned in and hugged the woebegone princess. But Casserah would never have done such a thing. “It may yet be different,” she said. “You have a chance now to make real friends. But you have to make them with a great deal of care. Not everyone you will meet from here on out is to be trusted. Not everyone will have your best interests at heart.”
“How will I ever know?”
“You can always trust Senneth.” She smiled, a little ruefully. “You can trust me. You can trust the Riders.”
A shadow fell across them as someone pulled up a chair. “You can trust me,” said Romar Brendyn. He bestowed a warm smile on his niece. Even Kirra came in for some of the glow. “I’d give you a big hug right now, but I don’t want serra Senneth to set me on fire.”
“She only does that when she’s trying to make a point,” Kirra said. Then added conscientiously, “Or trying to kill someone.”
Romar gave her a considering look. “I cannot help but feel that whole event was somewhat orchestrated.”
Kirra lifted her shoulders in a faint shrug. “Perhaps Senneth was looking for an opportunity to make a display. She has a history of being somewhat—spectacular.”
“I could have handled Toland,” Amalie said.
“Actually, I’m glad she pulled the stunt,” Romar said. “You shouldn’t have to try to handle bullies and drunken lords. I’m glad if they’re all a little afraid of you. Or afraid of Senneth.”
“But no one will ask me to dance tomorrow night!”
Romar laughed. “I will. And I’ll wager some of the young men will. They’ll just ask most politely.”
Amalie sighed, then she visibly tried to force away her despondency. She gave her uncle a playful smile. “It is very hard to be princess,” she said.
“It is very hard to be anything,” Kirra said in Casserah’s driest voice. “The trick is to try to be graceful no matter what situation you find yourself in.”
Roma
r gave her her very own smile for that. “A trick that serra Casserah manages very well,” he said. “I hope you will have time to dance with me tomorrow night as well.”
Bright Mother burn me, Kirra thought as she tranquilly nodded in acquiescence. “I will dance with anyone who asks,” she said.
He laughed at that; perhaps she had not been so graceful after all. “You see?” he said, ruffling Amalie’s hair, which caused her to squeal and jerk away. “We will all have a wonderful time tomorrow at the ball.”
CHAPTER 17
KIRRA was less sanguine about that as the next day unfolded. Because the lady of the house was so involved with the night’s preparations, there were no formal events during the day, and the guests entertained themselves pretty much at random. Most of the women kept to their rooms, indulging in beauty treatments that would guarantee they looked their best that night. Just for something to do, Kirra changed to cat shape and slunk around the mansion, Donnal at her side. They stole scraps in the kitchen, chased birds on the front lawn, and witnessed more than one tryst in the gardens. They also overheard an argument between Toland Storian and Raegon, the young Tilt lord, as Raegon claimed to have had no part of the disaster the night before. They would both go to their graves believing the other a liar, Kirra thought. She was a little sorry for it—but not much.
She and Donnal also darted in and out of the stables, watching the grooms clear out space to hold the carriages and horses that would start arriving just before sundown. Eloise had said she expected a hundred guests in addition to those already gathered at the house. These would be her vassals and their families, Thirteenth House gentry invited as a way for Eloise to publicly thank them for their loyalty.
This would be the night something would go wrong, if anything were to go wrong, Kirra thought. So many people moving in and out of the house. So many servants, coachmen, younger sons, ambitious mothers, and jealous lords gathered in one place. It was practically a prescription for trouble—if you were expecting trouble.
When she returned to her room, she found Melly in a rare taking. “Look at you! How am I going to get you dressed up in time for the ball? Where have you been all day? You should have been resting! You should have had compresses on your eyes! Your hair’s not even clean. Oh, what the serra would say to me, I can’t even guess.”
“She’d say, ‘Never blame yourself for Kirra’s faults,’ ” Kirra said, stripping quickly. “Come. It won’t take so long. I put myself completely in your hands.”
In fact, it was nearly two hours later before Kirra was washed, dressed, and styled to Melly’s satisfaction. Kirra had to admit that she looked superb as Casserah. She wore a dark red gown with a tight bodice and plunging neckline. The V at the throat, the three-quarter sleeves, and a panel down the front of the dress foamed with antique lace of a pale gold cast. Her dark hair had been drawn back from her face with a profusion of red ribbons and ruby combs; subtle cosmetics added drama to her wide cheeks and large blue eyes. The rouged red of her lips matched the deep color of the Danalustrous ruby that hung just above her breasts.
Kirra watched herself in the mirror, practicing Casserah’s languid expression and mysterious half smile. She dropped her eyelids and turned her head to watch her reflection sideways.
“Very beautiful,” she approved at last. “I should have a marriage proposal by midnight, wouldn’t you think?”
Melly was behind her, fluffing out the lace at the back of Kirra’s neck and infinitesimally rearranging the hair. “Maybe, but would your sister accept the offer?”
Kirra laughed. “She is very particular.”
Melly actually smiled. “You’re so much more easygoing. Though I quite adore her, of course,” she added hastily. “You are too easygoing. You don’t care enough.”
“Not about ballgowns and jewelry,” Kirra agreed. She paused on her way out the door and sorted through small items on her dresser till she found the one she wanted. She tucked it deep inside her neckline.
“What is that?” Melly asked instantly. “What have you done? Have you ruined the front of the dress? Let me see.”
It was the small stone lion she had found at the Wild Mother’s temple. Kirra had gotten in the habit of carrying it with her when she left the room, slipping it into a pocket or a purse. This outfit offered neither. “I don’t think anyone can see it,” she said, turning so Melly could make her inspection.
“I take back everything I said,” Melly scolded. “You are not easy at all.”
Kirra grinned. “You know, if I have to have a maid foisted on me, I believe you’re the only one I would be able to stand. Don’t wait up for me. The ball will go quite late.”
“I’ll wait up if I want to,” Melly said.
Kirra was laughing as she left the room.
Normally she would have just headed downstairs on her own, but this was the important night; this was the grand event. So she stepped down the hall and knocked on Amalie’s door. Valri answered, looking striking in a hunter-green dress accented with black and gold. Her short black hair was pulled back in an utterly severe style.
“Casserah,” she said. “We were just about to go down.”
Senneth, as usual, was wearing dark colors, a narrow cobalt dress with straight lines and little ornamentation. Someone had spent some time fixing her hair and making up her face, however, because both were quite elegant. Her gray eyes seemed washed with the same blue as the dress; her hair actually curled in tendrils to soften her face.
“I think you’ll have a little more trouble disappearing tonight,” Kirra commented.
“Doesn’t matter,” Senneth replied. “Everyone will be staring at Amalie anyway.”
Indeed, Amalie could hardly have looked more regal. She wore a stiff, full gown of deepest purple edged at all borders with thin gold ribbons; her red-gold hair just seemed like more glorious ornamentation. Even her brown eyes had a gold cast this night. Around her throat she wore a collar of braided gold chains; from the center, covering her housemark, dangled a single gold charm shaped like the stylized royal lion. Amethysts were set at random in her hair and glowered in two rings on her right hand. On her left hand she wore a gold signet ring carved with the king’s crest.
Kirra smiled and made a low curtsey. “The very picture of a princess,” she said. “Most excellently done.”
“Do you think anyone will ask me to dance?” the princess asked anxiously. “Besides my uncle, I mean.”
Kirra silently resolved to transform herself into an attractive young suitor and dance with the princess herself if no one else stepped forward this night. “I’m sure they will,” Valri answered. “And they will be honored to do so.”
“Then let’s go on down,” Senneth said.
Kirra was highly conscious of the significance of their little parade as Valri led the princess through the hall and down the stairs. Senneth followed Amalie, and Kirra was in the rear. Ahead of me are the three most powerful women in the kingdom, Kirra thought. Each powerful in a different way—and Amalie, who was the most valuable of the three, was in every way the most vulnerable. Pray to all the benevolent gods that this evening goes well for her.
IT started off propitiously, at any rate. Romar Brendyn was loitering at the foot of the steps, clearly stationed there to await his niece. A few other lords and ladies had paused casually in the foyer where the great stairwell fed to the bottom floor, acting as if they were engaged in important conversations, but clearly they were there to catch the first glimpse of royalty. A soft little murmur went up from this crowd as Amalie appeared behind Valri, her violet gown in vivid contrast to Valri’s sober green. Romar fell into a deep bow from which he did not rise until Amalie’s feet pattered across the stone floor and she stood before him.
“Princess,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it, “you are exquisite.”
She could not keep the delight from her face, though it was clear her stepmother had counseled her to try to appear unmoved by compliments. “Thank you,�
�� she replied with a creditable attempt at nonchalance. “You look very nice, too.”
Privately, Kirra had been thinking the same thing. He was wearing Merrenstow’s black and white, with a checkerboard sash across his chest, but his black waistcoat was embroidered in gold with the royal lion. He had tied his shoulder-length hair back with a black ribbon, and his face looked very stern.
“May I escort you in to dinner?” he asked.
“I would be honored if you did.”
Pretty much everyone else in the assembly reacted to Amalie with the same mix of appreciation and formality, from the Kianlever vassals who had not yet had a chance to meet the princess to the Twelfth House serramar who had flirted with her for the past two days. Even during the long dinner, people kept twisting in their chairs to get a glimpse of the poised and beautiful princess sitting at the head table with Eloise, Senneth, Valri, and a few of Eloise’s most devoted lords.
