greeting hundreds of
boring grown-ups. Lucky him, he had years yet before he had to
endure such pleasures.
The royal servants kept the line moving in
efficient routine. The herald, who seemed to have an endless memory
for names, introduced each noble as they bowed or curtseyed or
knelt as they were able. “My liege” or “Sire” or “Your majesty”
drifted back to Amira’s ears time and again.
Soon enough it was Dardan’s turn. He gave
her hand a comforting squeeze before stepping forward to kneel
alone.
“Lord Dardan Tarian of Hedenham,” the herald
intoned.
Dardan bowed his head deeply. “Your majesty.
I regret that my father the count is not present, but matters
detain him in Hedenham.”
“Yes, of course,” the king muttered. Dardan
took the hint and moved on, stopping a few yards away to wait for
Amira.
She stepped forward, heart fluttering. “Lady
Amira Estaile,” the herald said. Amira bowed her head and
curtseyed, though with her starched petticoats and tight corset,
she simply lowered three inches for a moment. As she rose, she
looked up at Prince Edon and was startled to see a line of blazing
silver light erupt from the side of his head.
He stood in profile, speaking quietly to
some old knight standing beside him. The silver line seemed to run
from above Edon’s ear up to the top of his scalp, even visible
through his circlet. It pulsed brightly, as if someone had dripped
molten silver on him. But he did not seem to be in any distress,
and nobody around him was panicking.
Yet Amira could not move. She stared, until
the prince faced her and caught her gawking. He frowned at her. The
silver light had disappeared the instant he turned his head.
“M’lady,” Dardan hissed at her. Amira
realized she’d been standing there far too long, and the nobles
next in line were glaring. The herald made little shooing motions
with his hand, and now the royals were all watching her curiously.
Amira stepped away quickly, saying, “Your majesty, your
highnesses.”
As Dardan took her arm to lead her from the
room, she glanced back at Prince Edon. He stared at her with wide
eyes, his mouth hanging open, one hand half-raised, as if he’d seen
something astounding in her as well. Something like silver
light.
CHAPTER 6
KATIN
Damn that careless girl. Why didn’t she
tell me I’d be separated from her all evening? Katin rubbed her
hands together. The evening air had cooled quickly and she’d begun
to wish she’d brought a shawl of her own. The best warmth to be had
out here in the foreyard was beneath the tall lamps along the
yard’s outer walls, but the space around them was already clogged
with people.
The foreyard had no fire-eaters, no
jugglers, no fantastic foreign delicacies. Just hundreds of idle valai , supping on warm stew and bread from wooden bowls. At
least there was the small group of musicians to entertain them, but
after the third go-round of “Summer Starlight” Katin began to
consider beating them to death with their own fiddles.
As in the song, the stars twinkled brightly;
there was no moon tonight. The low hum of conversation droned all
around her. She turned a little to glance at Liam, who had shadowed
her the whole evening as she drifted around the yard.
Occasionally she spotted valai she
had met before, while attending Amira at some masque or dinner
party, but she was too worried about Amira to strike up
conversation. Even with Liam. He seemed to know quite a few
of the valai , but stuck close to Katin anyway.
At least he was easy on the eyes; that was
all she could say in his favor. Handsome men had an innate
arrogance, and Katin was suspicious of him, even though they’d
barely shared a hundred words since they met.
He caught her gaze and smiled. She
reflexively smiled back, then yanked her eyes away and increased
her pace. He had tried to make conversation a few times, but she’d
merely hummed noncommittally. She wished there were some other way
to distract herself
boring grown-ups. Lucky him, he had years yet before he had to
endure such pleasures.
The royal servants kept the line moving in
efficient routine. The herald, who seemed to have an endless memory
for names, introduced each noble as they bowed or curtseyed or
knelt as they were able. “My liege” or “Sire” or “Your majesty”
drifted back to Amira’s ears time and again.
Soon enough it was Dardan’s turn. He gave
her hand a comforting squeeze before stepping forward to kneel
alone.
“Lord Dardan Tarian of Hedenham,” the herald
intoned.
Dardan bowed his head deeply. “Your majesty.
I regret that my father the count is not present, but matters
detain him in Hedenham.”
“Yes, of course,” the king muttered. Dardan
took the hint and moved on, stopping a few yards away to wait for
Amira.
She stepped forward, heart fluttering. “Lady
Amira Estaile,” the herald said. Amira bowed her head and
curtseyed, though with her starched petticoats and tight corset,
she simply lowered three inches for a moment. As she rose, she
looked up at Prince Edon and was startled to see a line of blazing
silver light erupt from the side of his head.
He stood in profile, speaking quietly to
some old knight standing beside him. The silver line seemed to run
from above Edon’s ear up to the top of his scalp, even visible
through his circlet. It pulsed brightly, as if someone had dripped
molten silver on him. But he did not seem to be in any distress,
and nobody around him was panicking.
Yet Amira could not move. She stared, until
the prince faced her and caught her gawking. He frowned at her. The
silver light had disappeared the instant he turned his head.
“M’lady,” Dardan hissed at her. Amira
realized she’d been standing there far too long, and the nobles
next in line were glaring. The herald made little shooing motions
with his hand, and now the royals were all watching her curiously.
Amira stepped away quickly, saying, “Your majesty, your
highnesses.”
As Dardan took her arm to lead her from the
room, she glanced back at Prince Edon. He stared at her with wide
eyes, his mouth hanging open, one hand half-raised, as if he’d seen
something astounding in her as well. Something like silver
light.
CHAPTER 6
KATIN
Damn that careless girl. Why didn’t she
tell me I’d be separated from her all evening? Katin rubbed her
hands together. The evening air had cooled quickly and she’d begun
to wish she’d brought a shawl of her own. The best warmth to be had
out here in the foreyard was beneath the tall lamps along the
yard’s outer walls, but the space around them was already clogged
with people.
The foreyard had no fire-eaters, no
jugglers, no fantastic foreign delicacies. Just hundreds of idle valai , supping on warm stew and bread from wooden bowls. At
least there was the small group of musicians to entertain them, but
after the third go-round of “Summer Starlight” Katin began to
consider beating them to death with their own fiddles.
As in the song, the stars twinkled brightly;
there was no moon tonight. The low hum of conversation droned all
around her. She turned a little to glance at Liam, who had shadowed
her the whole evening as she drifted around the yard.
Occasionally she spotted valai she
had met before, while attending Amira at some masque or dinner
party, but she was too worried about Amira to strike up
conversation. Even with Liam. He seemed to know quite a few
of the valai , but stuck close to Katin anyway.
At least he was easy on the eyes; that was
all she could say in his favor. Handsome men had an innate
arrogance, and Katin was suspicious of him, even though they’d
barely shared a hundred words since they met.
He caught her gaze and smiled. She
reflexively smiled back, then yanked her eyes away and increased
her pace. He had tried to make conversation a few times, but she’d
merely hummed noncommittally. She wished there were some other way
to distract herself
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