Princess Elani inclined her head, accustomed to deference, but Seregil was almost certain her gaze lingered a moment on Alec, though it was to him that she spoke.
“Lord Seregil the Aurenfaie? I’m pleased to meet you at last, cousin. Aunt Klia holds you both as great friends.”
“It’s been a long time, Seregil,” Princess Aralain said a bit less warmly.
“Your Highnesses greatly honor us,” Seregil said. “And Your Grace,” he added, bowing now to Alaya as Alec did the same.
Alaya smiled as she waved them to the last empty couch. “I’m pleased to meet you, Lord Alec. And look at you, Seregil! You have grown up from that sad little thing you were at court.”
A servant immediately came forward with a gilded wine table, golden cups, and plates of tiny sweetmeats for them. Alaya eyed Atre approvingly. “Tell me about this other handsome young fellow you have brought with you.”
“This is the great actor, Master Atre, lately of Nanta,” Seregil explained. “Perhaps you’ve heard of him and his company?”
“I have indeed. How clever of you to bring him. Princess Elani has been so curious to see his players.”
“A pity they are in such a poor venue,” added Princess Aralain, as if Atre weren’t there to hear.
“Ah, but that’s changed, Highness,” Seregil informed her. “Lady Kylith, Alec, and I have set them up properly in Gannet Lane.”
“Very good!” said Alaya. “Master Atre, I am so glad we will be able to sample your talent tonight. I’m sorry you missed Jenaria’s first offerings, but I’m sure she has another prepared for us.”
The poetess rose again and bowed to the guests. “It would be my honor, Your Grace,” she replied. “I offer to you
‘The Hour of Blue Leaves.’
“I’ve met my love in the shadowed bower,
and we embraced as the sun’s last rays
bled over the horizon. Leave-taking
burned behind the eyes, promises kindled
skin to skin. As the evening wind
turned the leaves, pale blue against the night,
I let my love drift out of the garden
with only a fading musk on my palms
where once we touched. How was I to know
my love would become only a reflection,
a shadow beneath the current,
a blue leaf adrift on the stream of memory?”
“How lovely!” Princess Aralain exclaimed. “Do give us one more.”
“As you like, Highness.” The poetess pressed a hand to her heart. “ ‘Leave-Taking at Dawn.’ ”
This one was much longer, a lover’s lament. Seregil lounged against his end of their couch, sipping his wine and nodding appreciatively at particularly well-turned lines. Alec sat beside him, cup raised halfway to his lips, his expression one of rapt attention. It was only partly an act on both their parts; the woman was talented. Even so, Seregil was acutely aware of the curious glances Princess Elani was stealing in their direction.
He wasn’t the only one to notice. Reltheus looked their way more than once, and Aralain was watching with a hint of disapproval at the corners of her mouth. Alec was oblivious as usual to the attention he was attracting.
When the poetess had finished, she bowed once more and withdrew, leaving the archduchess and her guests to discuss her verse. Having missed most of it, Seregil and Alec had little to say, but he noticed that Elani was equally quiet and not fully at ease. The conversation flowed around her, hardly seeming to register. Marquis Kyrin, on the other hand, was particularly knowledgeable. Apparently this sort of entertainment agreed with him, for he recited a few short poems himself, in a deep, melodious voice. Even then, he had a reserved air about him that was in sharp contrast with
Reltheus’s open manner. Perhaps it was their political interests that had brought them together.
When the subject of poetry was exhausted, Alaya looked to Seregil. “And now for Master Atre, I think.”
Atre stood and delivered the soliloquy from an upcoming play in which he had the lead role of a wizard intent on capturing the affections of an unwilling young woman. It was dark and fiery, and Seregil found himself engrossed in spite of himself. Atre followed this with a comic monologue as the saucy but sharp-witted servant of a hapless noble who had a habit of getting into trouble of various sorts.
Seregil smiled, watching him. Even without costume or makeup, the man captured the demeanor and arrogant stance of the wizard, then changed completely as he capered lightly around the courtyard declaiming the servant’s irreverent speech. He impressed even Seregil, who was himself an expert at such transformations, though never for a knowing audience.
By the time he bowed, everyone was laughing heartily and applauding, even Princess Elani, who looked much more interested in this than she had the poetry.
“You are the consummate performer, my dear!” Alaya said, offering the actor her hand to kiss and gifting him with a golden ring from her finger.
“I am honored beyond words, Your Grace,” Atre said, gazing into her eyes as he took it, making even the old woman blush like a girl and clear her throat. Atre was already wearing a ruby ring Seregil recognized with a twinge of annoyance as having belonged to Kylith; Seregil had given it to her.
“I think you must be the most amusing man in all of Rhiminee,” Aralain exclaimed, clearly charmed as she gave him a bracelet from her wrist.
“You are far too generous, Your Highness,” Atre demurred, but pride shone in his eyes as he bowed and pressed his hand to his heart. “I hope you will come and see the plays in their entirety.”
“I shall attend your theater very soon,” she assured him.
“I shall, as well,” the princess royal said. Blushing a little, she pulled off one of her own rings and gave it to him.
Atre was allowed to withdraw to a back table with the poetess, and talk turned to other subjects.
“Tell me, Reltheus, what do you hear from Lord Danos?” Princess Aralain asked.
“I received a letter just the other day, Your Highness. He and his company captured and held a bridge at Redpoll for the queen, who led her forces to victory on the Plenimaran frontier.”
“He’s very fortunate to serve so close to my aunt,” said Elani. “I’d like to hear more of his exploits from him, when he returns.”
“May Sakor bring him safely home,” added her mother, who appeared to be as smitten with this potential suitor as her daughter.
“Most assuredly, Highness,” Reltheus told her. “Perhaps you’ll come to my estate again. Danos would be most honored to lead a hunt for you.”
Elani smiled, looking charmingly girlish. “I’d like that.”
And which more? Seregil wondered. The hunting or the young mans company?
“He also sent a private note to the princess royal, if you will allow it, Highness?”
“Certainly,” Aralain replied.
Elani blushed a bit as she took the sealed letter and tucked it into her sleeve.
“Do you have any more news of the war, Your Grace?” asked Alaya, clearly in his camp. “Is there any end in sight?”
“I don’t think so,” Reltheus told her with a sigh. “Part of the regiment was moved up the river toward Fleet Ford. Danos said they’d seen a great deal of battle, and he’s lost some good riders. He himself was wounded-”
“Not seriously, I hope!” exclaimed Elani.
“A mere flesh wound, he said. Although knowing my boy, he wished to spare my feelings and those of his stepmother with any detail.”
“Does he ever speak of Captain Beka Cavish?” asked Alec. “She’s with the Queen’s Horse, as well.”
“Now and then,” Reltheus said, clearly intending to keep the focus of the discussion on his son’s exploits and bravery,
which he extolled for several minutes. Princess Aralain hung on his every word, as did Alaya. And Elani, too, though her gaze did stray Alec’s way every now and then.
“And what does he say regarding his commander?” asked Evesia, who’d been quiet for some time.