Summers at Castle Auburn (22 page)

After my dance with Jaxon ended, I was claimed by a Chillain noble, and, later, some lordling whose name I never did catch. As this dance ended, I managed to slip away from the dance floor and behind one of the white columns that ringed the room. There I stood for a few moments, my eyes closed and my back against the smooth marble. It felt cool and refreshing through the silk of my dress, which was just slightly wet from sweat. I was hot; I was thirsty; I wanted just twenty minutes to be invisible, and then I would dance again.

“I cannot believe it,” said a voice to one side of me, “Lady Coriel has excused herself from a dance.”

I opened my eyes, though I had recognized the speaker's voice: It was Kent, and he stood before me, regarding me with amusement. He was also holding two glasses filled to the brim with amber liquid. “I have attended balls at Castle Auburn before,” I said. “I don't recall being quite so sought after.”

He grinned and handed me one of the glasses. “I'm assuming all your exertions have made you thirsty,” he said.

I sniffed the contents. “I don't think I can drink another glass of wine.”

Kent shook his head. “Apple juice. I have a few of the servants bring it in especially for me. It looks like wine, so no one can tell I have no head for liquor.”

Gratefully I sipped the sweet drink, which tasted better than dayig fruit at this particular moment. “How strange,” I said. “I always thought you excelled at every nobleman's skill.”

He grimaced. “There's more than one that I lack, as my father would happily tell you. But to my way of thinking, drinking is hardly an accomplishment, though an ability to keep a clear head
comes in handy if you do happen to be imbibing. Bryan thinks it's funny that I don't like wine.”

I savored each mouthful of juice because I knew I would still be thirsty when this small amount was gone. “But then, sometimes Bryan's sense of humor seems misplaced,” I said. “What other skills do you lack?”

“What other—” I had caught him off guard, though he recovered quickly. He smiled. “I am not the diplomat my father is. I enjoy neither the wrangling nor the bullying that is required, one after the other, to get my way. The polite lying comes easier, but not much.”

I took another sip. “And?”

“And? You mean, what are my other flaws?”

“Yes.”

He considered. “Sometimes I see the other man's point of view. This makes me a little less ruthless than he would like.”

“Your father can be a little insensitive at times.”

“Yes, that's been my experience,” he said coolly. “A fair man, but not particularly warmhearted.”

“Which makes me wonder how you turned out the way you did.”

“What way exactly would that be?”

“Fair. Tolerant. Honest. Willing to listen.” I took another small sip. “Warmhearted.”

He shrugged and settled himself on the edge of a huge potted plant. “Sometimes we become what we see,” he said. “Sometimes we take what we see and make it the model for what we refuse to become. Sometimes we do a little of both.”

“Does that mean you are like your father in some ways?”

“Oh, yes. My father will not tell a lie. Even to win a political edge, he won't do it. And he opposes violence in every instance except the most extreme. And he values intelligent people. He listens to them. That's where I developed the habit.”

“You're intelligent. Does he value you?”

Kent looked surprised that I had asked the question. “Most of the time,” he said cautiously. “Until he comes up against one of my perceived flaws.”

I smiled. “The lack of diplomacy. The lack of ruthlessness.”

He smiled back. “And no skill at flirting with the ladies.”

I opened my eyes wide. “Not something he's very good at himself!”

Kent laughed. “He's already married and produced an heir. He doesn't have to win a bride.”

“I wouldn't think there would be much ‘winning' to do on your part,” I said thoughtfully. “If I'm considered a match worth making, just by virtue of my Halsing blood, think how much more impressive you must be. One step away from the throne, after all.”

“It's a big step.”

“Close enough to make you a prize.” I frowned. “And don't tell me you aren't successful with women, because I've seen Megan of Tregonia and Liza of Veledore—yes, and Doreen and Marian and Angela, too—fawn over you like you were Bryan himself.”

He smiled at the comparison, but when he spoke, his tone of voice was serious and deliberate. “I suppose I should have said, my father is unhappy that I care so little about making such a connection,” he said. “He wishes I had chosen a bride long before this.”

“And why haven't you?”

For a moment I thought he would not answer. Which was strange because, odd though this conversation was, I had never before known Kent not to tell me anything I asked. “Why haven't you?” I repeated.

He looked down at his empty glass. “One of the other ways in which I am different from my father,” he said. “I am not interested in marrying where I do not love.”

I spoke in a jesting voice. “And of all the women in the eight provinces, you have not been able to find one you could love?”

Now he looked at me again, and his face was completely serious. “That's the problem,” he said. “There is one.”

I remembered, suddenly, how he had watched Elisandra pace through her room the day she returned from Tregonia. I remembered how, this very day, he had—on her behalf—sent riders out to search for me. I remembered how much of the time I had spent in my sister's company had also been spent in Kent's. “And I think I know who she might be,” I said softly.

His expression changed to something I almost could not decipher—I finally decided it was sardonic disbelief, which seemed strange. “I doubt that very much,” he said.

I straightened from my pose against the column, somewhat in a huff. “I have eyes,” I said. “And I have drunk serums that enhance my ability to see the truth.”

His voice was dry. “Not lately.”

“Then tell me who it is you are so fond of, and you will see that I am right.”

Now he had lost his cutting edge; he was laughing. “You tell me the name of the lady for whom you think I pine.”

“My sister.”

Slowly, deliberately, so I could not miss the motion, he shook his head. “No,” he said. “It is not Elisandra I love.”

“Why, Kentley,” I said in a mocking voice, “I believe this is the first time you have lied to me.”

A smile brushed his lips, was repressed, then peeked out again. “Lady Coriel,” he said, “I never lie.”

“I do not believe you.”

He stood up and offered me his crooked arm. “Then I guess I will just have to live with the knowledge of your suspicion,” he said. “May I escort you back to the dance floor?”

I was annoyed; up until this point, the conversation had been intriguing, even a little heady, and now he had ruined it all by laughing at me. I could not remember any time until this summer that Kent and I had gotten along so poorly. But I did not want to flounce away from him. Tonight, at least, I had more dignity than that. I lay my hand on top of his. “Certainly you may.”

“And have the next dance?”

“If you like.”

He smiled. “It will please my father,” he explained. “For me to dance with the most sought-after woman of the evening.”

I had to give him a swift, minatory look for that comment, but when he laughed, I could not help laughing back. I enjoyed this dance perhaps more than all the others: because I knew Kent so well; because I did not have to flirt with him or try to discourage
him from flirting with me; because I had danced with him my whole life and did not have to worry that he would endanger my toes or fling me off balance; because the orchestra played one of my favorite pieces. For all those reasons.

It was clear, as the music ended, that he was guiding me across the floor to some specific point, so I allowed him to lead me where he would. We ended up beside Elisandra and her partner of the moment, Dirkson of Tregonia. He was paying her an exceptionally fulsome compliment as we twirled up beside them.

Elisandra answered with her usual composure. “Indeed, thank you, my lord. You do me too much honor.”

Dirkson looked annoyed when Kent and I stopped beside them and Kent instantly took Elisandra's hand. “I've scarcely seen you all evening,” he said. “You've been even more popular than your sister.”

Dirkson actually scowled, an unattractive expression for a man well into his fifties. “I had hoped to persuade Elisandra to take another turn on the floor with me,” he said.

“If she accepts anyone, it should be me,” Kent said. “For I have not had one dance with her all evening, and you have had three or four.”

I thought it was significant that Kent had been counting Elisandra's partners. Dirkson continued to sulk. “Yet you have many more opportunities to invite the lovely lady than I have, living as you do in the same castle,” Dirkson said with clumsy gallantry.

“This is the night and the dance I want,” Kent said. “But Corie would be charmed to take her sister's place.”

Not at all, but I smiled at the viceroy anyway. He gave me one quick glare, then bowed in Elisandra's direction. “With you or no one,” he said.

Elisandra said, “I thank you so much, but I am not interested in dancing with anyone right now. Someone stepped on my toe a while back and it is really quite painful. I beg you to excuse me this time.”

There was a moment's sullen silence, then Dirkson bowed to her again. “As you wish. Ladies. Lord Kentley.” He turned on his heel and was gone.

Kent looked after him, a small smile on his lips but a slight
crease in his forehead. He was both puzzled and amused. “That was rude,” he said. “And so unexpected! I did not think anyone could refuse Corie this night.”

Elisandra looked over at me with a smile. “Yes, you have been quite besieged,” she said. “Have you enjoyed yourself?”

“Oh, so much! Although it's somewhat disconcerting to think that people only like you because of your uncle's extensive farmland and his hints of an inheritance.”

“Nonsense, they like you because of your red dress—and the way you wear it,” Kent said outrageously.

I flashed him an indignant look; Elisandra sent him a reproving one. She reached out to touch my cheek with one finger. “They like you for your fresh prettiness and your marvelous smile,” she said. “Everyone wants to be around someone who's happy. You look happy.”

“I feel exhausted,” I said on a long sigh. “But I did have fun.”

“Unlike your sister,” Kent said. He was watching Elisandra again. How could he say he did not love her? Concern was written all over his face.

Elisandra's face, on the other hand, as usual gave nothing away. “My evening was interesting,” she said calmly. “As you say, I was almost as popular as Corie.”

“Did Bryan dance with you?” Kent wanted to know.

“Oh, yes. Twice.”

“That's good, then.”

“And Borgan of Tregonia, three times. And Goff of Chillain, also three times. Would you like the complete list?”

Kent shook his head. “So, it means they consider the situation fluid,” he said, his voice very low. “That makes me very uneasy.”

“Really?” she said. Her voice was idle, almost absentminded, but I sensed a wealth of locked emotion behind it. I frowned, watching her. I was not entirely certain what they were talking about. “I think it would be a relief, actually,” she said.

“It makes every alliance renegotiable,” Kent said. “If he marries elsewhere, it completely changes the power structure.”

Elisandra still spoke in that lazy, disinterested voice. “That would be completely acceptable to me,” she said.

“And if nothing changes? If everything goes forward as planned?”

Her face, if possible, grew more masklike; she still smiled, but there was even less to read in her eyes. “Then I shall endure that as well,” she said. “I am very adaptable.”

He was still watching her with that analytical intentness, as if he could decipher secrets in her face that were invisible to me. He shook his head slightly. “I don't even know what to wish for,” he said. “The safety of the realm, or yours.”

“I'll be fine,” Elisandra said negligently. “I always am. Corie, let's make Kent fetch us some refreshment, shall we, while we stay here and gossip? Would you mind sitting out just one dance with me?”

“Oh, no! My feet hurt, too,” I said. I was bewildered and uneasy at their conversation. I had no illusions that she would confide in me now, but it was clear that she needed a moment to collect herself, and I was not likely to turn her down. I gave Kent a quick smile. “If you could find more of that apple juice—” I said.