I eased full shields into play, if so close to my skin that no one could have detected them, without punching or slapping me. “I beg your pardon?” I also scanned the area around me, but no one seemed to be paying much attention to us. That didn’t mean someone wasn’t-or wouldn’t.
“Johanyr . . . you must remember him?” A tinge of amusement colored her soprano voice.
“Yes, I encountered him several times.” That admitted nothing.
“Encountered-a fair way of putting it, perhaps better than he deserved.” She smiled. “Would you dance with me?”
I couldn’t say no. “I would be honored.”
A faint, delicate, and pervasive floral fragrance came with her as she slipped into my arms when the orchestra began to play and we eased out among the other dancers. Her eyes were a gray-blue that her gown and scarf intensified.
“You’re in great danger, you know?” Her voice was lower, conversational, and as matter-of-fact as if she’d told me that it would rain on the morrow.
“I have the feeling, Mistress Iryela, that I may always be in great danger. Pleasant as it is, dancing with you could also present a danger.”
“Oh, I doubt that. Certainly no more danger than already exists. I won’t ask you to kiss me, nor to marry me. At least, not for a time, and please call me Iryela.”
“I’m not of High Holder background,” I said with a laugh. “Nor do I have the dancing experience to go with it.” She wouldn’t ask for a kiss, or more, for a time? Did that suggest Maitre Dyana was correct, that her father would take his time in dealing with me? Or was it just a part of a more elaborate plan or charade?
“You’re more than adequate, and better than most of your peers, and far more handsome.”
“And you are far more beautiful than yours, as you must know, and possibly more deadly.” But she wasn’t nearly the dancer that Seliora was.
“That’s a compliment I have not heard before. My father would be pleased, but it would be a pity to tell him. I almost might, except that would please Johanyr and Dulyk, and that would not please me.”
Iryela was playing a deeper game than I could discern, but it was clear that she had a purpose, one that I wasn’t even certain I wanted to consider. “Brothers often view matters in a different light.”
“Do you have a sister?”
“I have one. I’m quite fond of her, as I’m certain you know.”
She smiled. “You do me much credit.”
“I suspect I give you less than your due, since you were so easily able to find me.”
“You assume that I was looking for you. Is that not rather presumptuous?”
“I think not, not if I assume that it was not for my appearance or my station or my nonexistent wealth.”
“More and more interesting.”
More and more dangerous. “No . . . you are the one of interest, for so seldom does one of great beauty, position, and charm ever appear in my world.”
“More flattery yet.” She laughed.
“Flattery, yet truth, as you well know.”
“I see no others coming to take me from you, Rhennthyl.”
“That only says that none dare cross your will.”
“Were that it were so.” There was just the tiniest edge behind the laughing words.
When the orchestra paused, I released her and inclined my head.
She returned the gesture. “If you would not mind escorting me back to my younger brother.”
“My pleasure, mistress.”
“Iryela.”
“My pleasure, Iryela.”
Her brother was in a small group with another younger man and a woman slightly younger than Khethila. “Iryela . . . we are honored at your return.”
“As pleased and honored as I am, dearest Dulyk.” She smiled, sweetly, then inclined her head to me. “Thank you for the dance, Rhennthyl. I did enjoy it.”
“My pleasure, Iryela.” I took a step back, inclined my head to her, and eased away, but slowly enough to try to overhear what might be said.
“. . . most politely done, dear sister, if rather direct . . .”
“. . . do believe in courtesy, Dulyk . . . and always will . . .”
“You are so refreshing, sister dearest . . .”
I concealed a wince as I moved back toward my station. Iryela lived in a family that made even Caliostrus’s menage seem warm and welcoming.
In less than half a glass, the orchestra would stop, and Councilor Suyrien would offer a toast to all the guests of the Council, but before that, I needed to return to my post.
“Do you know who asked you to dance?” asked a figure in formal black-Master Dichartyn. He’d caught me by surprise, because I’d still expected him to be in gray or gray and white.
“Mistress Iryela D’Ryel-Alte, and she used me as some sort of insult to her younger brother, who is her escort tonight-and possibly even to her father.”
Master Dichartyn nodded. “There is always infighting for survival in High Holder families.”
“You’re suggesting I might use that?”
“I would suggest nothing at the moment. Any conflict between you and High Holder Ryel has not yet begun, and the longer before he announces his intent, the better for you.”
“In what fashion will he announce it?”
“Let us just say that you will know without any doubt.”
Another of his infuriatingly vague statements! I hoped he would say more, but when he did not, I knew I would get nothing further, and I asked, “Do you have any instructions?”
“No. You can move around more. Just observe what you can.” He slipped away before I could reply.
Ahead, I saw a girl-tall enough to be a woman, but too young-watching the dancers. She was alone. Well . . . that was one of my duties, and perhaps if we stayed to the outside of the swirl of dancers I might see or learn something.
“Mistress, might I have the honor of a dance?”
Her eyes widened just slightly as she turned to me, but she recovered quickly. “You might.” Her smile was practiced, but with a stiffness that was slightly awkward and charming.
I took her into my arms and out into the dancers. Young she might have been, but she was a far better dancer than I.
“You dance exceedingly well, mistress.”
“Alynkya, Alynkya D’Ramsael.”
I liked the fact that she didn’t add the “Alte” to her name. “Your father is the councilor from Kephria, then.”
“He is. My mother was indisposed, and she asked him to bring me.”
She was even younger than she looked, perhaps because she was so tall, but I should have guessed because the councilor was the tallest member of the Council, by a good half head, if not more.
“How do you like the Ball?”
“I don’t know many people here.”
“Do you live here in L’Excelsis or in Kephria?”
“Kephria, most of the time.”
I danced with Alynkya for two dances, and then her father arrived and danced with her. He only smiled at me, patronizingly. I’d have to remember that, not as a grudge, but as a fact. I’d also have to remember Alynkya and wish she retained some of that youthful charm and directness. Probably not, given her father, but one could hope.
Near one of the sideboards, I caught sight of Madame D’Shendael. She was talking to someone-the Ferran envoy.
I eased closer as the two talked, then took a position where I could ostensibly watch the dance floor, but from where I could overhear most of their conversation, or glance in their direction.
“You have often suggested that Solidar has little music, Klauzvol. What you do think now?”
“This is a nice little orchestra, madame, but it is a pity that there are not others like it. For the capital of a great nation . . .”
“One cannot have everything, as you have said before. Our artists are superb . . .”
“Ah . . . that is indeed true, but so are those of Ferrum, particularly in Ferrial . . .”
I wanted the opportunity to speak to Madame D’Shendael, as well as to get a closer look at the envoy, but I certainly couldn’t speak directly to her, or stare. So I looked at her for a moment, then looked away. Several moments later I did the same, while trying to project a clueless curiosity.