He sported her, too, as the animals scattered into hiding, perhaps sensing her surge of apprehension. He made straight for her with an air of determination, as the crowd of young on-lookers parted respectfully for him.
He took her arm again, and this time she was grateful for his support and did not resist at all as he pulled her along, back toward the entrance to the ballroom-cum-glade.
Are we leaving, Father? she asked, hopefully.
He didn't notice the hope in her voice. I won't be getting any more business done tonight, he said shortly. And the wine's flowing a bit too freely for my liking. It's time we all went home.
Has he noticed that I'm tipsy? She thought, panic making her go cold.
Ardeyn has some fairly wild friends—he's in thick with Lady Triana's crowd—and I don't want you around them if they start to get rowdy, he continued. I've heard tales of that one—well, never mind. He'll be safe enough, shortly. The match with the House of Vittes is all but confirmed; I expect there'll be an announcement tomorrow.
Why am I not surprised?
She wondered if she ought to make some kind of comment, but he didn't seem to expect one.
It's not the best match—you would be better, insofar as inherited power would go—but it's satisfactory, and the old man seems bent on indulging the boy by letting him make his own choice. The tone of his voice said what his words did not: I'd never allow my son to be spoiled in such a fashion.
Yes, sir, she said automatically. He hardly noticed.
Viridina has already gone ahead; I was just looking for you. Finally, as they broke through the edge of the crowd and entered the deserted corridor, he turned to look at her. Did you do as I told you? Did you make yourself agreeable to some of the young men?
Now she was more than grateful to Gildor the Dolt, and not just for his company; he had made it possible for her to tell the truth to her father.
Yes, sir, she said, earnestly. I was even asked to dance several times.
Lord Tylar did not smile, but there was some grudging approval in his nod. Good.
That was the last thing he said to her; he simply towed her along like so much baggage, through the first Portal, across the floor of the Council Hall, and through the second. Once on the other side of the two Portals and back in the pink-marble hall of his own manor, he abandoned her, taking her escort of guards with him, and leaving her to make her own exhausted way back to her rooms and the sullen ministrations of the blond slave waiting there for her. Whether it was the wine or her own exhaustion, she hardly noticed the girl's surly manner; it barely intruded on her dazed thoughts.
And when her head touched the downy pillow of her own bed, she fell asleep immediately, and did not dream at all.
Chapter 3
RENA WOKE BY herself, which was unusual; morning generally brought three slaves to wake her early, on her father's standing orders. He felt that no girl should be allowed to lie abed much past dawn; he said such practices encouraged indolence. She had no idea why he should feel that way—how could she or her mother possibly be more idle than they already were?
But idleness was not indolence, nor was it laziness. Being forced to sit with folded hands did not mean they were indulging themselves.
Probably it was just one more way to impose his will on them; it really hardly mattered, since if she happened to stay up late in bed reading, she could always dream in the garden once the servants were done dressing her.
Today was an exception, however. Either she had somehow awakened much earlier than usual, or—far more likely—he had left orders to allow her to sleep late to recover from her unusually long evening and the presumed excitement of the fete. At least he was treating her with the same consideration he would give one of his prize horses this morning.
She touched a carved flower on the headboard of her bed, and a dim pink mage-light (just enough to read by) appeared just over her head. It was impossible to tell exactly what time it was, since she couldn't see the water clock in the sitting room or the sun outside the manor, but she had the feeling that it was an hour or two past dawn, rather than before dawn.
There was a faint headache just behind her eyes, but otherwise she was none the worse for all the wine she had drunk last night. That was a pleasant surprise. I know that Lorryn's complained about feeling much worse than this after a party. Either that wine wasn't as strong as I thought it was, or I didn't drink as much as I thought I had.
Probably the latter. If Lord Ardeyn had invited the little circle of sybarites that hung around V'dann Triana Lady (or was it Lord ?) Falcion, she would not be in the least surprised to find that his guardian had discreetly substituted a less intoxicating version of drink than the strong wine elven lords usually preferred, or at least had done so for the early part of the evening. Even Rena had heard stories about Triana—a particularly disreputable lady who had, shortly after the defeat of Lord Dyran, insisted and gotten the right to drop the title er-Lord from her name and claim the House of Falcion in her own right.
Triana was said to indulge in every excess known; Lorryn's friends were children playing kissing games by comparison. Most of her circle were the offspring of parents who were only a bare step up from being pensioners on some greater lord's favor—or were rare third or fourth children, useless to their parents, since no lord would ever divide his estate, and no lord would wed his child to a landless spouse unless he had no other choice. They could afford to debauch themselves; no one cared what they did, and no one would ever give them a scrap of responsibility. Most of them spent their time in endless parties, or traveling from city to city, staying at the town houses of friends or the friends of their parents.
They were generally granted just enough wealth to keep them busy in the spending of it, and not enough to get them into real trouble.
Which is a pity; surely one or two of them are brighter than poor Gildor, and would make a much better heir to his father's estate than Gildor would. For that matter, I can think of some girls that would do better than he would.
She grimaced at the thought of Gildor. The salvation of his attention would probably be short-lived, knowing Lord Tylar. True, she had followed Lord Tylar's orders, the letter of them, anyway, but it had only been the merest chance that led even a nonentity like Gildor to pay any attention to her. For all the rest of the younger er-Lords, she might just as well have been one of the tame animals. The odds of anything at all to satisfy Lord Tylar's demands coming out of last night's fete were slim indeed.
If I'm lucky, Father will have enough on his mind that he'll just leave me to my own devices again. If I'm not—when no inquiries come about me, he'll blame me and Mother for it. He'll probably even forget the fact that Katarina completely captured Lard Ardeyn and blame us for not somehow enthralling him! Then—I suppose I'll have to resign myself to a year of dancing lessons, music lessons, walking lessons, talking lessons, dressing-lessons…
At least it would be something to do.
But all those lessons would take away her precious free time. There would be no more rides with Lorryn, unless he could somehow spirit her away from her teachers. There would be no hours in the library, browsing through books collected, not only by the House of Treves, but by the House of Kaullis before them. There would be very little time for the garden and her birds…