Then Elise had felt happier when she recalled that both Derian and Doc would be attending the wedding. They were not in the wedding party, but surely she could speak to them at the reception, alert them to her suspicions—vague as they were—and ask them to help her keep an eye on Lady Melina.
Now, with the coming of morning, anticipation chased away the nightmare. Elise swung her long legs to the cold floor, grateful for the fire already burning on the hearth.
She rung for her maid, eager to start dressing, as if preparing for the event could make it come the sooner.
King Allister stood thinking about the arrangements that had been made for wedding security, fidgeting slightly as his body servant brushed his trousers and put a final polish on his boots. In the next room he could hear Pearl talking to the twins as they prepared for the wedding—an intricate waltz involving not only the three participants but what seemed to be a small army of maids and seamstresses.
The little girls were caught up in an emotional whirl that was half-fear, half-excitement. They had spent all morning the day before being fitted for their new gowns, had attended the banquet, and then had insisted on attending much of the ball. Consequently, they were now overtired and edgy.
They were also nervous about how they would measure up when compared with the—to them—sophisticated Shield sisters. Citrine was close enough to their own age not to worry them much. She was also a sweet child. Ruby and Opal, however, awed them from the heights of fourteen and seventeen years.
It didn't help matters that only the previous afternoon Lady Melina had finally given her word that Ruby and Opal would winter in Revelation Point Castle along with—at their mother Zorana's insistence—their cousins Deste and Nydia Trueheart.
Allister didn't quite understand why Minnow and Anemone were so anxious about processing in company with the three Shield sisters. After all, the twins could claim experience the others could not.
Pearl had laughed indulgently when he asked her what was the source of the problem.
"Minnow and Anemone knew then that no one would compare them to Lady Elise—she's a young lady of eighteen while they are only twelve. Lady Blysse is closer to their age but still enough older to be in another class."
"And," Allister had chuckled, "she is Lady Blysse. But," he added, remembering, "though Ruby is just a couple years older than our girls, Opal is nearly the same age as Elise."
"True." Pearl sighed. "Age is only part of the problem. Lady Elise is as unaffected as one could hope—especially given that she is heir apparent to a barony. Oh, she has her flighty moments, but most of the time, she's a reasonable girl. Probably that same frequent access to the king's castle that her cousins twit her about gave Elise a realistic sense of her own importance.
"Opal and Ruby, however, are quite affected. They are polished dancers and trained courtiers. Their mother made certain that if they couldn't haunt their great-uncle's castle, they would be frequent guests at the Gyrfalcon ducal residence. They at least pretend to a solid sense of their own importance—so much so that the pretense has become a part of them."
"Snobs," Allister said.
"Snobs," Pearl agreed, "without a real reason to be snobbish. All their claim to importance rests on relationships—and perhaps a touch of the not completely wholesome aura that clings to their mother."
After hearing this, Allister resolved to make a great fuss over the twins when they emerged from the ladies' bower and, indeed, it was not difficult to do so.
Although originally, the bridal party was to wear the same gowns to both weddings, the assassination attempt had made this impossible. Sapphire's gown had been completely ruined, as had Lady Elise's. Even the twins' gowns had been spattered with blood.
This led to a difficulty, for the augmented bridal party already had gowns made to match that made for Lady Elise. Fast post-riders had confirmed that enough of the expensive material remained to make a new gown on a similar pattern for Elise, but not for the twins—even if wearing Hawk Haven's colors would have been appropriate.
There simply had not been sufficient of the gold-hued silk for the underdress left to duplicate the twins' original gowns; the material had been imported from New Kelvin by Valora when she was still Gustin IV and forgotten when she had departed. Nor would the strongly patterned green brocade look as elegant without the gold silk to balance it.
Pearl had gone into conference with her favorite dressmaker and they had worked out a compromise. The underdress was to be made of a pale yellow fabric onto which were appliquéd wherever the underdress would show fantastical sea creatures cut from the original gold silk. With something to balance the sea-green brocade, the rest of the bolt could be put to use—although Allister understood that it had taken some clever cutting on the part of the seamstresses to eke out enough fabric.
"I like these dresses so much better," he said, beaming at the girls. "The softer yellow brings out the roses in your cheeks."
Minnow tried to maintain her dignity, spinning so he could see the whimsical creatures decorating the undercoat. Anemone was less concerned about such things. She hugged him, causing his body servant to swallow a sigh as she crushed the king's own elegant attire.
Pearl joined them last, allowing the girls an uninterrupted moment with their father while her maid carefully set her crown in place among her elegantly styled tresses.
Although her gown had been ruined as well, Pearl, at least, had not needed to match anyone. A court gown from her existing wardrobe sufficed, but determined not to have Bright Bay look poor in Hawk Haven's eyes, the queen had spent much of the journey out stitching tiny pearls onto the chosen gown's bodice and skirt. Her hours of labor in the jolting carriage had resulted in a shimmering confection of white over rose that enhanced her own warm coloring.
Allister felt unreasonably proud of his family—unreasonable because he knew better than anyone that gem-encrusted gowns and crowns did not make queens and princesses, but proud because these honors were gracing his women.
A bell chiming summons as his valet set his own crown in place saved the king from saying anything embarrassingly sentimental.
The large hall in which the wedding was to be held was a solid stone-walled room without any of the sorcerous embellishments that graced the Sphere Chamber in Revelation Point Castle. Nor were the stone walls warmed by tapestries as might have been expected. King Tedric had confided to Allister that Sir Dirkin Eastbranch had insisted on stripping away anything beneath which an assassin might hide.
Steward Silver had used holly and ivy, the former bright with scarlet berries, to soften the bare stone, but even so the long room held nothing that could match the magical trapped-within-a-pearl mood of the Sphere Chamber.
Perhaps all for the good, Allister reflected. There is a security and comfort in solid stone.
Shortly before the ceremony began, the guests filed in. Each had been checked for weapons. Not even the most highly ranked had been permitted attendants. Therefore the mood was tense with suppressed indignation and excitement.
When the orchestra began to play a stately march, the musicians didn't sound as polished as they should. King Allister knew that this was because their membership was heavily salted with soldiers loyal to the king. Last night's musicians had been—at least early on—professionals, but at that occasion the waiters and serving maids had been drawn from Hawk Haven's military.
King Tedric wasn't taking any more chances than he must.
When Sapphire processed in, following the long train of her attendants, the bride proved lovely. She wore a dress that had been given to her by her grandmother the duchess and that some whispered had belonged to Queen Zorana the Great.
The groom wore his second-best naval uniform.
And despite all the preparations and worries—or perhaps because of them—the wedding proceeded without incident. This time the amulet bag was sewn shut without disturbance, the witnesses cried their acclaim without any scream of horror breaking the j
oyful accord.
Prince Shad and Princess Sapphire were wed before representatives of their assembled peoples.
And now, thought King Allister, I hope and pray that they will indeed live happily ever after—both for their own sakes and for the peace they can bring to our kingdoms.
Derian felt distinctly out of place at the wedding reception—all the more so when he saw Ox standing solemn guard at one of the doorways, Valet circulating with smooth grace offering wine to the guests, Race puffing away on his flute in the second row of the orchestra.
That's where I belong, he thought, with the trusted servants, guarding and supporting, but not out here pretending to be a person in my own right. I wish I could run off like Firekeeper did.
He felt terribly awkward when Lady Elise came gliding toward him in her beautiful gown, but the anxious expression in her wide sea-green eyes set him paradoxically at his ease.
"Derian," she said in hurried tones so soft as to be almost a whisper, "I must… I need… Can we talk?"
For a horrible moment, Derian thought that as once before Elise had suffered an enchantment that restricted her ability to speak freely. The young woman must have intuited his concern, for she managed a wry smile.
"No, I can talk—I'm just… well… worried and I'm not sure that this is the place to talk, but I need…" She grabbed him on one forearm. "Come and walk with me in the garden. It will be cold outside, but no one should miss me for a few minutes."
Derian grinned. "And no one will be looking for me at all."
Elise looked embarrassed.
"I didn't mean it that way," she said indignantly. "Simply put, your parents aren't here wanting you to dance with this important person or say something flattering to that important person."
Derian opened a door that—from last summer's sojourn in the castle—he knew led into a side garden.
The man guarding that particular door looked surprised that anyone would want to go out into the chilly afternoon, but he schooled his expression to polite neutrality. His job was to keep intruders out, not to monitor the guests' behavior, unless that behavior seemed to promise violence.
"No," Derian said to Elise as they stepped out into the late-autumn sunlight. "My parents are at home hoping that I'm talking to this important person and asking that important person to dance—but it's all right if I leave the party since I'm with you. They count you in the list of those who are pretty important."
Elise laughed, relieved to be teased.
"Walk with me. We can pretend to be looking at frost-frozen roses or ornamental kale or something."
Obediently, Derian took her arm. Elise was shivering slightly, but that might be from nerves. The fabric of her dress, as he knew from inspecting Firekeeper's similar garment, was quite heavy.
"Last night…"
Elise began her tale without further prologue and with a conciseness that was not typical of her. She told Derian how Baron Endbrook had slipped a note to Lady Melina, how Lady Melina had responded, about Elise's own suspicions.
"The worst thing of all," Elise concluded, "is that I don't know if I'm simply unwilling to trust the woman, and so I am spinning shawls out of fog and moon dust. It's just that after what we learned last autumn…"
Derian nodded his comprehension.
"We know that Lady Melina is capable of inflicting both pain and humiliation to achieve her ends," he said bluntly. "Next to that, what's a little political game-playing? The Isles aren't actually our enemies, really, just less than perfectly friendly neighbors."
Elise sighed.
"What should we do?" she asked, steering him back toward the door.
Derian frowned. "Off the cuff, I'd say we should see where both Lady Melina and Baron Endbrook go when the festivities are over. That won't be easy, but it won't be impossible. Almost everyone is stabling something or other with my parents' stable—or through people we've contracted with. I can use that for checking. And you can talk to Citrine—cautiously, of course."
"Citrine?" Elise was puzzled, clearly wondering why he would suggest involving an eight-year-old.
"Rumor says," Derian smiled a touch slyly, "that Ruby and Opal are going to winter at Revelation Point Castle but that Citrine is not. Presumably, she is staying with her mother and so will have an idea of Lady Melina's plans."
Elise showed her astonishment.
"How could you know that already? It was only announced yesterday afternoon!"
"Jet Shield looked into having a family sled reupholstered—or more specifically, he sent a servant to do so," Derian replied a trace smugly. "The servant explained that the young ladies were going south for the winter, but that their mother wanted them to have their own light flyer for attending parties and such."
"Amazing!"
The guard held the door for them. Elise smiled her thanks. Derian nodded and, when he was almost past, winked slyly at the man. After all, the obvious reason for going walking with a pretty girl wasn't to discuss intrigue and conspiracy.
Derian escorted Elise to the hall where Baron Archer was—without making it too obvious—clearly looking for his daughter.
"You're wanted," Derian said, releasing his light hold on Elise's arm. "I see that dance cards are coming out. Doubtless your father wishes you to make yourself available to dance with some of those important people you mentioned."
Elise looked as if she was tempted to stick her tongue out at him, but all she said in parting was:
"Tell Doc. He's smart and…"
And, Derian thought without rancor as he watched Elise take her father's arm and give him a winning smile, you like him in a way you don't like me, but that's just fine. I'm happy to have you as a friend.
He felt infinitely cheered, no longer out of place—not because, he realized to his amazement, someone had given him a job, but because Elise had reminded him that he was at this function because some people valued him for himself.
Whistling would have been out of place, but Derian nearly did so as he strolled along the edge of what would become a dance floor but was now thronged with the mingling guests.
Here and there women were fluttering elegantly printed dance cards threaded on satin ribbons. To be invited to this wedding at all, one needed to have some political or social connections, but being noble-born didn't make all women pretty or young or popular. Many of those would be worried that their cards would remain empty, but for a token dance from some generous relative.
Derian liked to dance and he had no lady or patron to flatter. After watching the ebb and flow for a moment, he checked his own card for the names of some of the earlier dances. Then he walked up to a rather plain woman in Merlin colors and bowed deeply.
"If I could have the honor, Lady," he said, "I was hoping you might have the Prancing Dapple open on your card. My name is Derian Carter. I have the honor to be a counselor to King Tedric."
The woman looked pleased to have been noticed, but she colored slightly. Derian had noted similar responses in much more humble settings. He guessed that her card was completely empty and that she was embarrassed to have him see that he was the first to ask her to dance.
He glanced away, signaled a waiter, and accepted two cups of punch. Taking this reprieve, the woman looked up from marking his name on her discreetly shielded card.
Handing her one of the punch cups, Derian pulled his own card from the pocket of his waistcoat.
"If I might have the honor of your name…"
He sketched it in—she proved to be a lesser scion of House Merlin, much as Doc was of House Kestrel. Then Derian bowed and thanked the woman in advance for the promised pleasure. Now that the preliminaries had started, Derian began enjoying himself.
As he cast around for another suitable partner, Derian felt a fleeting sorrow for Firekeeper. The wolf-woman did love to dance and here she was missing another ball. He hoped that wherever she was, she was happy and at least reasonably warm.
The rest of the reception flew by on—for him q
uite literally—dancing feet. He found that many ladies of title and prestige, including to his astonishment the elderly Duchess Kestrel and a giggling Princess Anemone, were quite pleased to hint that they would like a dance with him. Apparently his reputation as a dancer had proceeded him, quite possibly from the Bridgeton Ball that had provided the opening skirmishes of King Allister's War.
Derian was glad when Earl Kestrel offered him a ride home on the box of the Kestrel carriage. His feet were so tired that he would have limped if he had made the long walk home alone—not that the drivers of any of the dozen or more carriages hired from his parents' stables would have let him do so.
After a long afternoon that had begun with the wedding, moved into the reception, the first set of dances, a light supper, and then a second set of dancing, Derian was astonished upon arriving home to realize that the hour was not unduly late. Winter darkness combined with physical weariness had conspired to fool him into believing it at least midnight.
Coming into the house, he found his parents and Damita awake, playing cards by lanternlight.
"Tell us," Dami demanded, setting down what was clearly a winning hand, "all about it."
And he did, talking even while he eased off his boots and put his feet in the shallow pan of warm water that miraculously appeared. He was aware of Cook and the housemaid listening from the shadowy kitchen door, that old Toad, who had retired from driving and now helped with the household's heavier chores and around the stables, had emerged from his attic room and was listening at the top of the stairs.
Cook brought out hot peachy and thin wafer cookies to prompt Derian when he flagged and Vernita invited the servants to join the family circle. Brock woke about then and curled sleepily on the hearth rug, waking only fully to ask yet another question.
Derian did his best not to leave anything out, to describe the gowns, the uniforms, the jewels. He told of every dainty served, answered questions about the wines (very good, but not excellent) and whether the gentlemen had worn swords (no). He listed every dance he'd danced and with whom, and by the end of his recital, his throat was hoarse but his tiredness had vanished, replaced by a curious light-headness.
Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart Page 22
