He looked more royal than ever before, every inch a prince, and I wasn’t sure if I loved it or hated it. His suit glinted in shades of black, and his vest gleamed the darkest blue. His tie shone bright silver to match his eyes, eyes that were scanning the crowd.
They rested for a moment on a woman in a daring red gown, and I realized, with a start, that it was Solara. She had slipped away, leaving me standing alone. I didn’t know how long I’d been staring like an idiot at Nev, but it was enough that she was now on the other side of the vast room. His gaze slid away from her and up to the ceiling, as if searching for something up there, then dropped back down…and found me.
Our eyes met, and now the entire room faded away: all sounds, colors, and faces. Everyone’s but his.
Over and over, I had to push Qole from my mind.
Even Ket, stunning as always in a silver dress cut just low enough and just high enough to encourage the eye to carry on, merely made me wonder what Qole was going to be wearing tonight. I hoped she would forgive me for whatever Solara had done to her. For that matter, I hoped she would forgive me for bringing her here. I had been so stupidly, selfishly naïve and excited to show off Luvos and Dracorva to her, I had completely failed to see how out of place she’d be, how surprised she’d be by my family. By Ket.
“If I could just get her alone” seemed to have been my motto when I’d started on Alaxak, and it still was, even now that I was back on Luvos. Perhaps we should just stick to ships where people want to kill me, I thought bitterly, smiling at Ket in the same instant. My face must have gone through a brief spasm before it found the right shape.
“Ket, you look ravishing, as expected.”
She smiled just enough to show her dimples and coyly turned her head, as it just so happened, in the direction of the media. “Why, thank you, my prince.”
“You are famously welcome.” I scanned the ballroom from the dais, hoping to either spot Qole or at least mentally fortify myself for the next conversation.
Conceived and built centuries ago, the room echoed many older design elements of the Dracorte family. Sweeping birds with silver-tipped wings were carved into the domed white walls, fading into darker blues as they rose, until they turned a pitch black that made the ceiling invisible. There, glowing faintly, were lights representing the Dracorte system. I craned my neck attempting to spot it, and sure enough, on the far edge of the cavernous ballroom flared the dot of light that represented Alaxak. Ket squeezed my arm, bringing my attention to the man approaching us.
It takes nerve for you to show up here, I thought. Dressed in the black and symbol-bedecked uniforms his family preferred, and possessing scrupulously shaved and lotioned cheeks, the man was burned into my memory from dozens of inter-system war games held at the Academy.
“Lord Khala Treznor-Nirmana.” Even those born well before the marriage alliance had changed their surnames, as if to make it so the families had never been separate. I waited to bow until he finally did. I matched his with one almost as deep, except a shade shallower. Was that a slight, on my part? Observers wouldn’t know, but they might wonder.
“Prince Nevarian Dracorte. It is such a relief to see that you have returned from your travels in such good health.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Space travel can indeed be treacherous, but I was fortunate. I found only some trivial annoyances on an otherwise fruitful trip.”
The lord smiled thinly and bowed to Ket, extending his hand, in which she placed hers.
She curtsied perfectly, to the exact right degree. “My lord, your presence here on Luvos is an honor. Are we fortunate enough to have King Treznor-Nirmana with us as well?”
I had to hand it to Ket, she had picked up my cues of displeasure with the man perfectly. And she could be so very, very mean. She had just reminded Khala that while he was the closest living male relative to the current leader of the Treznor-Nirmana family, King Makar, he wasn’t a prince. It wasn’t even known if he was an heir or not, since Makar Treznor-Nirmana was the very definition of eccentric and had made no announcements. Khala was simply the best the family could do for a representative from their systems, and it was a bit of an embarrassment. Still, this arrangement would have had at least Makar’s tacit approval, and while everyone knew he was crazy, I also knew he was an unquestionable genius. That meant Khala was here for a reason.
He was too experienced to let such things show, but I had spent enough time staring at his shiny face across the table to recognize the pinched quality around his lips as annoyance. “Sadly, he had pressing business and could not attend.”
His counterinsult wasn’t subtle enough for Ket, since she practically sniffed in disdain.
I suddenly felt tired of every sentence being a duel of its own. I thought of Qole, and of honest conversations. I scanned the room again.
“Prince Nevarian, you look like a caged rimueng,” a female voice said nearby, laced with amusement.
For once, I didn’t feel a surge of annoyance and smiled when I turned. “Princess Daiyen. You’ve come far. And I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, unless rimuengs cage themselves with the people they are most honored to join.”
Daiyen Xiaolan, the eldest daughter of Queen Shanyi Xiaolan of planet Genlai, was dressed in a green sheath that started just above her knees and ended at the top of her throat, leaving her arms bare. It was made of hundreds of interlocking pieces reminiscent of leaves, and they clung to her like a second skin. She was as small as Ket, but her body had the lean muscle of a dancer or gymnast. Although she was by far my favorite of the royal offspring at these events, I had very little contact with her and didn’t know how she occupied the majority of her time. In fact, it was kept enough of a secret that the media rumored she pursued untraditional hobbies for a Xiaolan heiress, such as piloting and combat. As much as that further warmed my heart toward her, I suspected it was a master ploy by her mother to build her mystique. The Xiaolans’ style and quality was the envy of everyone, but they also controlled their image with an iron fist.
Her laugh was proper, but sincere. She dipped her knees in a curtsy that, considering her dress, defied the laws of physics and came off elegant. “Let us say that is the case. We are all glad to be in this cage, and to see you and Princess Ketrana so happy together.”
It was nothing but a pleasantry, but I barely fought off the urge to shift in discomfort.
Lord Khala all but scoffed. “I hope you don’t plan to distract us with your happiness because there isn’t much to announce tomorrow.”
I smiled. “We have prepared quite the distraction, especially since our good friends the Treznor-Nirmanas could use a little less attention on losing another border station so unexpectedly.” My mother had taught me at an early age to always scan the most recent news feeds before any social events for ammunition, and it was one of my favorite tools. I had spotted this bit of information on the feed mere moments before leaving for the ball. Confusion flitted over Lord Khala’s face, and I continued before he could interrupt. “We have some advances in Shadow I think you will be very interested in.”
After all, I didn’t see the harm in a small teaser of tomorrow’s events.
Daiyen frowned. “I hope you’ve found a way to reduce its volatility. We would love to use Shadow in our engines, or even more widely in our system, but it’s easy to see how it could have caused the Great Collapse. My mother isn’t a fan.”
“Oh, come now, that’s superstition.” I chuckled. “We have no evidence that Shadow collapsed the portals. We don’t even know what ran them. Fear only breeds misunderstanding, and I think we’re past that now.”
Khala spread his hands. “Are we? We don’t know, do we? That story got its start somehow.”
Ket, either avoiding a scene or simply bored, went for more essential conversation. “Tell me, Princess Daiyen, did you arrive here with someone?”
“I did,” Daiyen said dryly, taking a sip of her drink. “But he became engrossed in his own conversation.” She l
eveled a cool look across the ballroom, and I followed her gaze from the dais to where Solara was holding resplendent court. She laughed gaily and slapped the chest of the current subject of her attentions. I blinked. Most people didn’t do the party equivalent of an elbow dig to Heathran Belarius. It wasn’t that he was heir to the most powerful family in the systems, the one we theoretically had an alliance with, so much as he had the humor of a frozen moon. He was tall, broad shouldered, and dark skinned, and possessed the strong features that made so many swoon over Belarius men, but I didn’t think I had ever seen a smile grace his face. That is, until now. I glanced at Daiyen, but she had turned back to Ket, and I couldn’t read anything in her expression.
The portion of my mind that typically enjoyed these games considered the implications there. Treznor-Nirmana had been trying to intimidate Belarius into distancing themselves from us, and I wondered if Xiaolan was making a move into what they perceived as a power vacuum. Leave it to Solara to thwart that little play at the party level—but not even that held my attention for long.
For once, I didn’t feel as though my heart was in the social “niceties,” duty or not. Ket ended up handling the brunt of the well-wishers, and soon, I was glancing from face to face with only one anticipation.
The strings started, bittersweet, and the bass hummed through the floor. I looked up from the dais toward to Alaxak again. When I looked down, I saw her.
She stood at the far edge of the ballroom, at the north entrance, and the crowd melted around her, keeping their distance. I could guess why. The Qole I had come to know was competent, keenly intelligent, and completely grounded. She stomped on the grating of her ship, she commanded mountains of men, she stood with a wide stance as if she expected a punch, and she would throw her own to protect her crew. Her greatest dream was to lie in a sunny meadow and watch the clouds. She was as rough as the planet she came from, and as surprising.
The Qole that I was looking at now was as mesmerizing and striking as the space in which she fished. Her hair rolled down in glittering coils like black smoke and stars. The dark swaths of her dress wrapped around her body, softening it to all arcs and curves, but nothing about her suggested that she was a safe plaything. If the other Qole was dangerous like a meteor, this Qole was dangerous like Shadow, an unknown element to the people around her, and they stayed well away, casting sideways glances.
Our eyes met. Hers were free of anger or intention, unguarded, taking me in. Like open windows, they invited me to see this other side of her that I hadn’t yet met.
I had to talk to her.
Even possessed of a certain madness, I knew I couldn’t simply abandon Ket and stroll over to Qole for some light evening chitchat. There would be attention on Qole before long, but we wanted the attention to be related to her diplomatic relationship with my family and her upcoming contributions to science. We distinctly did not want it from the tabloids.
Which meant I had to stop being a moody, disengaged princeling and put my skills to good use.
“Ket, my beautiful mirage,” I murmured, “I’ll be right back. I see the Royal Times photographer and I’ve been meaning to ask him about engagement photos.”
Ketrana craned her neck to where the man was in busy conversation with a duchess. “Oh, Nevarian,” she whispered excitedly. “He’s considered simply the best for arranging candid moments.”
I smiled. “I’ll arrange a fortuitous moment with him right now.”
To make it to the photographer, I distracted a potentate who was complaining about the erratic behavior of our drones by introducing her to a member of the clergy who had a theory regarding divine intervention and the relevance to drone activities, snatched a glass from a passing waiter in time to hand it to someone opening their mouth to speak to me, and pretended to not see an uncle once removed attempting to get my attention a few feet away. I arrived at the photographer’s shoulder, and his wife’s simultaneously alarmed and delighted expression caused him to turn and half choke on his drink.
“Your Highness! What a pleasure to see you on this auspicious day.”
I smiled and nodded. “Indeed, made all the happier thanks to your presence. I’m an eternal fan of your work. My betrothed, Ketrana, would love nothing more than to speak to you about where you found those touchingly beautiful models to represent disadvantaged youth in your social awareness piece.”
“The…Princess Ketrana? I would be honored, thrilled, pleased, I…” The photographer finished surreptitiously brushing crumbs from his waistcoat and ran out of words.
“She’s right over there.” I pointed. “You would do me a great favor if you could find it in your heart to have a brief conversation with her. In the meantime, I would be happy to entertain your wife with part of this dance.”
Three startled partner changes in half as many minutes later, I was standing in front of Qole.
“My lady captain.” I bowed. “Custom dictates that we continue this dance together.”
She started as if alarmed by my presence. I supposed I had essentially materialized out of the crowd, but it didn’t entirely explain the delicate flush to her cheeks that sprung up under her sharp-edged makeup.
“That’s the third terrible idea you’ve had today,” Qole retorted with her customary bluntness. I found it especially refreshing after the past hour. “I dance about as well as a rock. Or about as well as I fit in here.”
“Some rocks do dance, as you should know after expending extensive time in asteroid fields, and you’re right, you don’t fit in here,” I said. “You’re much too beautiful for these people.”
She started again as if I’d insulted her instead of complimented her.
Beautiful. I’d never called her that before. I hadn’t even truly thought it, but what else could I have said? Anything other than that would have felt false. She was, in this moment, utterly beautiful to me. Now that I came to think of it, maybe she always had been and I just hadn’t realized.
“Here,” I continued, reaching out to her. “You can’t come to a ball and not dance. And I promise you, I am the best teacher you will find here.”
Qole hesitated, but I was playing dirty—you can’t exactly deny a prince who is standing in the middle of a ballroom with his hand outstretched.
I watched her own hand rise and rest in mine. The warmth of her touch radiated down my arm and through my entire body. I stepped closer, placing my other hand at the small of her back, and then we were off.
Part of me expected to simply float off in a cloud of dynamic dancing, the sort of synchronicity that planets and stars experienced. Instead, we reaffirmed that Qole was not in the habit of exaggerating or lying. She tripped in her heels, and I almost stumbled in turn as her feet got caught between mine.
“See,” she hissed. “I implode at this.”
I grinned. “You made me cook, I make you dance. The universe is in balance.”
A hint of a smile played in her dangerous eyes. “The universe has a ways to go, since I doubt I could be as bad as your cooking even if I face-planted this second.”
I nodded agreeably. “You speak the truth. However, as luck would have it, my skill at dancing is inversely proportional to my skill at cooking. Just stop fighting me.”
Qole stiffened even more at the suggestion, but then, miraculously, she relaxed, and I swept her in a simple pattern of half circles across the dance floor. The skirt of her gown looked like burning Shadow licking around both of our legs before I pulled her closer again—closer than before. The material covering her back where my hand was pressed was so thin, I could feel the heat of her body against my palm. I had to fight not to stare down at her, but, rather than awkwardness, I almost felt giddy. I loved to dance.
A single string left the ensemble to climb higher and higher. The bass began to beat faster with it, and every dancer on the floor responded. My feet remembered every step from hundreds of hours of practice, and I remembered my mother’s advice—I was there to provide the focus, the stru
cture, for my partner. I was the frame, and Qole was the painting.
We circled, and in perfect tandem with the couples around us I placed both hands on Qole’s waist and lifted her for a full spin. Her hands instinctively found my shoulders, fingers tightening into me as her dress fluttered, revealing the smooth length of her leg.
Hundreds of couples spun through the air with us, movement and color blurring overhead, blending and fading into the points of light and darkness above us. When Qole dropped down, her body slid along mine. I felt like I was leaving the atmosphere.
We were together, finally. Now I’d have a few moments of peaceful conversation with her that no one could overhear, nestled in the dance floor like this, where everyone was only paying attention to their partners.
I leaned close to her ear to be discreet and caught the scent of her. There was spice there, leathers, metal. I should have apologized. I should have told her what to expect in the next few days. Instead something else seized control of my brain and words I hadn’t even begun to consider saying came out:
“It’s really good to see you.”
The calm on Qole’s face flickered, and I thought perhaps I had upset her somehow. Again.
But then she finally said, “I’m…glad. Too.” She challenged me with her gaze to make a joke about it. I couldn’t have if I’d tried, since I was far too busy being ridiculously pleased.
“Look, I’m sorry my family was so awkward with you,” I said. “In truth, they aren’t accustomed to dealing with outsiders any more than people on Alaxak are.”
“But Alaxans have reasons to hate outsiders, particularly the Dracortes—not the other way around,” Qole remarked without looking up at me, her lowered eyelids as dark as when her gaze was Shadow-filled. Her fingers tightened a fraction in mine. “Congratulations on your upcoming wedding, by the way.”
Shadow Run Page 22
