Juliet McKenna - The Warrior's Bond

“Saedrin save us, Ryshad, you’ve certainly brought me to a fascinating occasion.” Charoleia’s voice at my elbow nearly made me spill my wine. “Good day to you, Temar.”

“My Lady Alaric.” He bowed to her, eyes sparkling and won a demure half-smile in return.

I did hope he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself in public, but then again that might distract the assembled nobility. All those families with ties of blood and loyalty to D’Olbriot were taking their cue to ignore Tor Bezaemar, some with more grace than others. Indignation was swelling among Den Muret, Den Rannion, Tor Priminale, leaving minor Houses exposed as the room divided into undeclared battle lines. Den Hefeken was looking to Den Ferrand for support while Den Gennael and Den Risiper drew into a defensive circle with Den Brennain.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Casuel’s voice seesawed between rebuke for Temar and fawning in Charoleia’s direction.

“My apologies. May I make known Lady Alaric of Thornlisse. This is Casuel Devoir, Velindre Ychane and Allin Mere. All mages of Hadrumal.” The laughter just beneath Temar’s words set Casuel looking suspiciously for some hidden slight.

“You know Ryshad?” Velindre was measuring Charoleia with frank curiosity.

Charoleia returned the candid appraisal. “We have acquaintance in common.” Her words were coloured with sufficient Lescari accents to lend a hint of foreign glamour, just as her pale lilac gown had a subtly northern cut. The gentian lace overlaying the silk brought out the colour of her eyes as well as emphasising the whiteness of her skin. A single silver chain carrying an amethyst and pearl pendant circled her elegant neck and more pearls studded a silver crescent lifting hair dressed high in an unmistakably Lescari style.

Velindre swung the fan chained at her waist. “There’ll be plenty here keen to make your acquaintance.” She sounded amused.

“That’s what such functions are for,” Charoleia replied sweetly.

We were certainly attracting a fair degree of notice. An unknown beauty, three wizards and a chosen man who’d rather be outside holding the horses were certainly a welcome neutral topic for speculation in the tense atmosphere. I wondered how long we’d serve as a diversion, seeing Firon Den Thasnet draining yet another glass of wine, angry colour high on his cheekbones.

“Open hostilities here will suit no one’s purpose,” Charoleia said softly. She was looking at two Tor Sylarre youths who were casting provocative sneers at a trio of Den Murivance Esquires, stiff-necked in their first appearance at such an exalted gathering.

“It’s all this talking that’s stoking up resentments,” I frowned. “But it’s the Emperor’s privilege to open the dance, and he’s nowhere to be seen.”

“But I am so ignorant of modern courtesies,” said Temar breezily. “My lady?” He offered a hand to Charoleia.

She shook her head, smiling. “I don’t care to be quite so noticeable, Temar.”

He grinned and I realised whatever he felt for Charoleia was a fair cry from the prickly devotion he’d lavished on Guinalle. That puzzle had me tongue-tied just long enough to stop me calling Temar back when he sauntered off, idly swinging the card on its ribbon at his wrist.

I watched a touch nervously as he tapped Orilan Den Hefeken on one shoulder. The Demoiselle greeted him with a ready smile but that faltered as he spoke. She turned to appeal to her Sieur. Camarl strolled over as Temar spread beseeching hands to Orilan. Several other people drew near and a new murmur rippled outwards. We watched as the Sieur Den Hefeken sent a footman hurrying to the chamberlain, whose face was betraying considerable strain. Master Jainne was standing by a circle of musicians silent at the far end of the ballroom, pipers with single, double and double-reeded instruments of differing sizes and curves backed by lutanists and bowed lyres.

“Oh look, Cas,” said Velindre brightly. “Your brother’s leading the music. What an honour for your family.”

The mage’s strangled reply was drowned beneath a lively chord. Temar led Orilan Den Hefeken into the centre of the floor and four other couples rapidly formed a set behind them. I hadn’t seen Messire return, but he appeared on the far side, Lady Channis graceful on his arm. Assorted scions of Den Murivance, Tor Kanselin and Den Castevin followed suit. Kreve Tor Bezaemar promptly led one of Tor Sylarre’s innumerable daughters out and Firon Den Thasnet followed with another.

“Competing over who dances the neatest figures should prove harmless enough,” said Charoleia with satisfaction. She took my hand and I found myself walking out to join the nearest set. She curtsied with consummate grace and I bowed, listening hard for the beat of the music, counting silently until I could move to one side with the other men. Charoleia swept past me with a sensuous whisper of perfumed silk and we both turned to join hands and follow the set in a series of rapid twists and turns, dropping and swapping hands as we went. I hadn’t danced since Winter Solstice and that had been a servants’ affair where errors were greeted with laughter rather than the contempt I could imagine here. Livak fitted into the lower halls well enough, but with the best will in the world I couldn’t see her dancing these complex measures with a tenth the grace of Charoleia.

I managed the exchange of partners without error and when Charoleia came back to me could breathe a little easier.

“You look very serious,” she observed as the music changed to a partner dance.

I took her in my arms. “Did you and Temar—” The words were out before I could bite my tongue.

Charoleia arched exquisite brows over limpid eyes. “Is that any concern of yours?”

I felt ashamed. “No, I suppose, forgive me.”

She laughed delicately. “Since you ask, yes we did. But rather more importantly for that young man, we talked long into the night and again in the cool of the morning. I think you’ll find him rather wiser to the differences between love and lust.”

I looked hastily from side to side in case anyone was overhearing this but we were safely isolated in the midst of the circling couples.

“I’d forgotten how tender an innocent can be,” Charoleia continued in an amused undertone. “But I think I convinced him passion alone rarely sustains a love affair beyond first rapture, no matter how hot and strong that flame burns. I think he’ll learn it’s best to temper that charming ardour with friendship.”

Charoleia’s indulgent satisfaction roused my indignation on Temar’s behalf. Then I wondered if such newfound wisdom might help cut the tangle of emotions binding him to Guinalle. “You had to take him into your bed to tell him that?”

“And to show him the delights of the flesh can be enjoyed simply for their own sake,” she replied easily. “Don’t tell me you’ve lived this long without learning that? I don’t imagine Livak would have bedded you otherwise.”

I took up the challenge in those periwinkle eyes. “What would you have done if I’d taken up your offer of such pleasures the other morning?”

“Compared notes with Livak.” Charoleia’s smile was instantly ruthless. “To let her know what manner of man you were, in case she thought different.”

I took a slow breath. “Halice just promised to knock me senseless if I didn’t do right by her.”

“That sounds like Halice,” Charoleia agreed lightly. “We both look out for our friends in our own way. Wait until you meet Sorgrad and ’Gren.”

“That’s something to look forward to,” I said with equal flippancy. “If we get to the end of Festival unscathed.”

We finished the dance in silence and parted in mutual accord. I watched as Charoleia artlessly insinuated herself into a laughing group of Den Breval ladies escorted by various men from a cadet Den Haurient line. Then I went to escort Allin on to the dance floor.