Well, why shouldn’t Mayra dance with Perion, after all? There was absolutely no reason why that should bother him. He had no cause to be jealous. That was ridiculous. It was just that he didn’t have anyone else to dance with. That must be it.
Yes. Mayra and Ailsa were the only two here he knew to dance with. Ailsa was gone and Mayra was dancing with Perion. He didn’t have his place up on the dais as a refuge. And he couldn’t leave without insulting his host. Not a good idea—especially when that host was the emperor. Savyon felt tall, and awkward, and out of place. For a moment he thought about just finding an unobtrusive spot along the wall, but most of the spaces between the holly trees were already occupied by either guards or servants. Well, he couldn’t continue standing in the doorway. He drifted over to the refreshments table.
A man nodded to him and greeted him. “Prince Savyon.”
Ah. Savyon knew he’d been introduced to this man. What was his name again? He was so bad with names. Oh, yes. He remembered because it was so similar to Perion’s. Savyon nodded back. He was a duke from somewhere to the west, and married to the emperor’s own sister. Not someone to be ignored. “Duke Perico.”
“Have you met my daughter, Lady Aleonor?”
“I had not had that pleasure,” Savyon replied automatically and bowed low over the girl’s hand. “And what brings you to Terranion, Lady Aleonor?”
Aleonor tossed her head, making her ruddy curls dance. She cast a quick, unreadable glance toward her father. “I’ve come to attend the Academy for a year or two.”
“Ah, what a coincidence. So have I,” Savyon said, just making small talk.
“Perhaps you and Aleonor will share some classes, then. It would be good for her to have a friend or two in the city.”
Aleonor cast another glance at her father. This one was more decipherable to Savyon—and more understandable. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who resented parental interference of this kind.
Savyon smiled at her in sympathy. “I’m sure Lady Aleonor will have no trouble making friends.”
Aleonor smiled back.
The music stopped momentarily and Savyon looked up to see where Mayra might be. On the other side of the room, unfortunately.
Duke Perico smiled. “You two young people don’t want to stand around talking to me. Go out there and dance.”
Ack! The duke had misinterpreted his glance. Nevertheless, there was no polite way out of it, now. Savyon bowed again and offered his arm to the girl. “I’m afraid I’m a poor dancer, but if you would honor me with a dance, Lady Aleonor?”
She curtsied prettily. “I’m sure you dance very well, Prince Savyon. I would be delighted.”
It didn’t take long for Savyon to prove himself right with a missed step. He grimaced as he tried to correct for his stumble and almost caused another. “Sorry. I did warn you I don’t dance well. I’m too tall and gawky. There’s only ever been one—well, two—women who could make it look like I dance reasonably well.”
Aleonor squeezed his arm where her hand rested on it. “You’re not too tall. I’ve danced with several young men as tall as you, without incident. You’re just too self-conscious. It keeps you from moving smoothly. Never mind. As long as you make sure we end up on the opposite side of the room from my father, I’ll be satisfied.”
Savyon’s grimace turned to a smile. “That, I think I can do.” He looked around and steered them closer to Mayra and Perion. The very least he could do to make up for his lack of skill was to introduce Lady Aleonor to Perion. He’d make a much better dance partner. And Perion had shown a preference for red-heads before. Maybe he’d be more interested in Lady Aleonor than in Mayra. Savyon had to assume she already knew Mayra. Of course she did. They were cousins, weren’t they?
When the music stopped, they were right next to Mayra and Perion. Savyon bowed to his partner. “Lady Aleonor, may I make you known to my . . . distant cousin, Prince Perion?”
Aleonor curtsied again.
Perion smiled broadly. “Delighted.” When the music started up again, Perion was quick to ask Lady Aleonor.
Savyon smiled at Mayra. “Would you care to dance?”
Mayra took his offered hand. “All right.”
Savyon relaxed, feeling much more comfortable dancing with Mayra. “You dance beautifully, you know.”
Mayra cocked her head to the side and looked up at him. “This isn’t the first time we’ve danced. Though I suppose it might be the first time you’ve been paying attention. To me, at least.”
Savyon gulped and tried to smile. “I guess that’s fair. I was . . .”
“Obsessed? Rude? Clueless?” Mayra supplied.
Savyon supposed he deserved the rude. He hadn’t been fair to Mayra at all, and she’d been trying to help him. Obsessed? Maybe, but . . . His shoulders sagged. “Uh. Confused? Desperate?”
One side of Mayra’s mouth quirked up fetchingly. “I’ll give you desperate.” She shook her head. “Asking Ailsa to give up her magic was borderline insane.”
Savyon blinked. “How did you know about that?”
“Ailsa told me, of course. What I don’t understand is why you were so desperate to get her back. I mean, if you don’t care about who she really is . . .”
Savyon stopped in the middle of the dance. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean . . .”
Mayra pursed her lips. “Perhaps not.” She took his hand and led him toward the balcony. “Maybe it’d be easier to talk without the distraction of trying to dance at the same time. Anyway, I’m ready for a break.”
~
Mayra slanted a glance up at Savyon’s face. It looked like he was beginning to struggle, painfully, with some reality. If it was—finally—time for a dose of truth, perhaps it was also time for a little privacy. Not too much of course. But more than the balcony would easily provide. She continued on toward the steps down to the garden.
Savyon held back. “Where are we going?”
Mayra pulled him forward again. “There’s a nice little arbor just below. The garden will be mostly empty, this time of year. Not much to look at, you know. Also, cold. We’ll be able to talk more easily.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Oh, several things.” She pointed Savyon to one of the facing benches in the arbor and took the opposite bench. “So, let’s start with why you were so obsessed with Ailsa that you’d make a huge mistake like that.”
“I love Ailsa.”
Mayra stifled a sigh. “No, you don’t. Not that kind of love anyway.”
Savyon stiffened. “I do—”
Mayra pulled at one of the bare twigs that covered the arbor. “No. I’ve watched my parents enough to know. Real love doesn’t try to change its object. Not to say they always agree on everything. Or even that they don’t argue from time to time. But they accept each other as they are, not as they’d like or as would be more convenient. You think it wouldn’t have been easier for my father to ask mother to stop being a mage? Even here, that’s not been easy for them. Not because of any idiotic problems about mages in positions of power. But, Mother is the first empress—ever—to work on anything but the sort of things that advance her husband’s agenda. And producing heirs, of course. It wasn’t easy to break out of that mold, but she did it—with Father’s full help and support. He didn’t ask her to stop being a healer mage any more than she asked him to stop being emperor. It would have been like asking her to stop being her.” She watched his mouth open and close a few times before throwing him a line. “So, why were you so convinced you were in love with Ailsa?”
Savyon hung his head. “It’s always been Ailsa. I’ve known her all my life, after all.”
Mayra cocked her head to the side. “Always? That seems a long way back.”
Savyon shrugged. “Well, of course we were just friends when we were younger. It wasn’t until . . . oh, I don’t know . . . the last year or two, I guess . . . that I started thinking of her differently.”
Mayra snor
ted delicately. “Two years. And yet you never said anything to her? Never tried to kiss her, even?”
“I didn’t want to take a chance on ruining our friendship.”
“Hmm.” Mayra decided to let that pass without further comment. Reminding him that he’d done precisely that wouldn’t help matters right now. “That’s not the way my older brothers behave if they even just like a girl.” She grinned briefly. “Kind of refreshing, actually. So what is it about Ailsa that made you decide that you love her? I know she’s beautiful. And smart. A lot of girls are. So what’s special about Ailsa for you?” She almost held her breath as she waited for the answer.
Savyon was quiet for a long time. “It’s her . . . her calm. The way she makes me feel calm, even in a crowd.” He looked up and grinned sheepishly. “I’m not very comfortable in crowds. Ailsa made it easier. So do you.”
“Hmm. That doesn’t seem like quite enough for a life together. Or even unique. What else?”
Savyon looked down at his hands. “I don’t know. I just feel good when I’m with her. Sometimes it seems like every other girl in Far Terra wants to trap me, like some kind of wild animal. Half the time, my father is pushing me back toward the traps. Ailsa’s not like that.” He looked up. “I guess that sounds pretty shallow.”
Mayra smiled. “I actually understand that one. I have something of a similar problem, you know. Except that Father isn’t pushing me.” Her smile faded a little. “Yet. Sometimes I think he just hasn’t worked his way down to me. Artair’s betrothal is settled, though I think he and Lara suit each other very well. It’s not like Father had to force him. I think Rish has taken the hint and started scouting for himself. All those diplomatic visits for Father give him ample opportunity.” One side of her mouth turned up more than the other. “Arrigo is going to pose a particular problem, I think.”
Savyon huffed a laugh at that.
“On the whole, I think I’d prefer to follow Jathan’s example and find my own match before Father gets around to planning for me.” Mayra leaned back on her bench and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “So, to boil it down, it sounds like you like Ailsa, her presence helps make your duties as prince more palatable, and you’re comfortable with her. That’s not a bad basis for a royal marriage, I guess. But it’s not exactly hopeless love, either. I think, for example, Jathan would be a lot more eloquent if I asked him why he loves Ailsa.”
Savyon clasped his hands between his knees. “But I need Ailsa.”
Mayra’s eyes narrowed. “No, you don’t. You need someone who can do the same things for you that Ailsa can. Love—the real thing—would be a bonus, all ‘round. But Ailsa can’t possibly be the only girl out there who could be the kind of helpmeet you’ll need. Possibly, not even the best, all things considered. Even if you could get her back, which I very much doubt. I think it’s time you resigned yourself to looking a little farther afield.”
Savyon hunched slightly. “You’re the only other girl I feel really comfortable with.”
Mayra suppressed a much wider smile down to a mere lip twitch. “Well, that’s a start. Why don’t we go back and dance some more?”
~
Savyon looked across at Mayra and his shoulders sagged. He couldn’t really argue with her reasoning. He hadn’t treated Ailsa as if he loved her for her. “I’m not even a very good dancer. Why do you bother with me?”
Mayra shook her head. “Actually, once you relax a little, you’re not a bad dancer at all. Arrigo is much worse.”
Savyon chuckled at that. He’d never had the opportunity to watch Arrigo dance, but he could imagine it—all bounce and movement with very little finesse. Probably even he wouldn’t look so awkward next to Arrigo.
He stood up and offered his arm to Mayra. They climbed the short flight of steps up to the balcony. As they arrived at the archway, Perion danced by with Lady Aleonor. Odd, now that he thought about it. That last ball in Far Terra, when he’d been planning to propose, he hadn’t been as disturbed by all the barons’ sons who’d wanted to dance with Ailsa as he had been by seeing Mayra dance with Perion. Savyon paused in mid-step. When had he gotten jealous of Mayra? The full import of that struck him. Oh.
Mayra looked up at him. “Sav?”
Savyon drew in a deep breath and looked down at her. Really looked. “Mayra. I’ve been an idiot. Will you forgive me and . . . and allow me to start over?”
Mayra smiled. “Gladly.”
Chapter 28: Counterattack
Ailsa wasn’t too disappointed to find that the next phase of their plan was delayed the following morning. They were supposed to go out to Papa’s estates to create a showcase of just what two powerful green mages, assisted by a water mage like Aunt Izbel, could really do. A monument to serve as a reminder while Ailsa and Jathan were safely back in Terranion.
Papa’s estates were just on the edge of the Far Terran heartland, right where most of the barons would pass by them on their way to and from the capitol. They wouldn’t actually have to cross the desert. Still, Ailsa was just as glad to let Jathan have a little more rest before working more magic. Last night had been more than she really thought he should do so soon, but there hadn’t been any way to avoid that.
The trip was postponed by an overwhelming succession of visits by barons. Most of them had never visited their home in Ailsa’s memory. Now, all of a sudden, they couldn’t be friendly enough, though it was obvious what they most wanted was to make sure that they were on Ailsa’s and Jathan’s list of future customers.
Ailsa and Jathan met with them in the garden. On our turf, Ailsa couldn’t help thinking. For some, the ones Papa or Mama identified as likely to be the best to work with, she allowed a small amount of magic to leak out—opening a bloom here or accelerating growth there.
“I suppose we should have foreseen this,” Papa said during a brief lull. “At least it seems you did make quite an impression on them.”
Jathan grabbed her hand. “That we did. And you seem to have gotten over your terror of being the center of attention, Ailsa.”
Ailsa shrugged. “I guess I can handle it—for the right cause.” She grinned. “I have to admit. Last night was kind of fun. Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”
Jathan laughed at that.
“We’ll plan to get an early start tomorrow. You still need to leave a lasting statement to remind the barons what you have to offer them.”
Jathan’s smile glinted mischievously. “Those holly trees aren’t going anywhere. They’ll be reminded every time King Ewart holds a ball in that room.” He subsided at Papa’s glare. “But you’re right. We should leave something a little more constructive for them to ponder over, too.”
Ailsa was a lot less comfortable when Baron Mikel came through to the garden to pay his respects.
He bowed, somewhat grudgingly she thought, more to Jathan than to her. “I’m somewhat surprised to find you both here.”
“Where else would we be?” Ailsa asked coldly.
Baron Mikel’s smile was more like baring his teeth. “Why, from your talk last night, I would have thought you’d be eager to be out using your magic for the good of Far Terra.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of the concept of a day of rest?” Ailsa asked. “Or is it just that you don’t believe mages deserve a rest now and then?”
Baron Mikel’s smiled thinned noticeably.
“In point of fact,” Papa interrupted. “That’s precisely what they would be doing—on my estates—if we hadn’t been delayed by a number of your colleagues.”
“Ah,” Baron Mikel sighed. “I’m relieved to hear that. When I saw the signs that you were prepared to travel, I was worried that Ailsa and Prince Jathan would be leaving us so soon. Glad to hear you’re not headed all the way across the desert yet. It’s so hard on certain mages—or so I’ve been told.”
Ailsa shrugged casually. “It didn’t seem that bad to me.” She wasn’t about to tell Baron Mikel how hard it had been for Jathan.
Baron M
ikel turned directly to her. “So, how long will you be at your father’s estates? I might have to make an opportunity to see you work again.”
“Several days,” Papa answered, eyes narrowed. “The exact schedule is still flexible at this point.”
“Ah. I’d better make my opportunity sooner rather than later, then. I’ll take my leave now and let you get back to your preparations.” Baron Mikel bowed slightly to the company in general and left.
Ailsa let out her breath explosively. “What was that all about? I don’t trust him.”
Papa shook his head. “Neither do I. Not for a moment.” He turned from watching the doorway where Baron Mikel had disappeared and drew in a breath. “Jathan, I think I need to ask you to go talk to your brothers. Tell them we’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning. And we’ll be wanting a guard, just in case.”
Jathan sprang up from his chair. “Right away.”
Papa caught his arm as Jathan started for the door. “Not that way. The back way, through the garden. Ailsa can show you.”
Ailsa took Jathan’s hand. “I’ll do better. I’ll go with him.”
Papa’s eyes narrowed again. “No. I don’t think that would be a good idea. Show him where to get over the wall and tell him how to get to the east entrance.”
“What are you worried about, Papa?”
“I don’t know. But Baron Mikel and King Ewart are thick as thieves. Best to go wide around both of them for now.”
Ailsa nodded understanding of that. “In that case, send Rog by the same route with a message for Rish. Someone’s likely to wonder why Jathan is sneaking around. They’re used to seeing Rog carrying messages, so no one will bat an eye.”
“Who’s Rog?” Jathan asked.
“He’s the son of Papa’s steward. I used to slip him a few coins to carry messages to Sav or Cergio—or Perion—when we were younger and trying to set up an outing the adults hadn’t exactly said was allowed. If Rish can find him, Etan would be the one to carry messages back this way. He works in the stables.”
Daughter of the Disgraced King Page 27
