by E G Manetti
“Lady Estella is in ice blue,” Rebecca crows, pleased to have guessed correctly.
Monsignor’s spouse is lovely in the heavy raw silk, her alabaster skin sparkling with pink and blue brilliants. The shimmering stones are echoed in a delicate tiara set in the white-blonde hair.
“Sapphires and pink diamonds,” Clarice breathes in awe.
With a conspiratorial glance at Chrys, Lilian corrects her friend but a moment before the media commentary reveals the truth. “Pink diamonds for truth, Clarice. The blue are Nightingale Mercium.”
Leaning forward, Simon is as fascinated as the Ravens. “The Mercium has twice the value of the diamonds. I thought it impossible when Monsignor commissioned the gems.”
Leaning in for a closer look, Tabitha realizes that Simon’s offer to host the event was in part due to his knowledge that Lilian and Chrys would be eager to view the gems. They would have known Monsignor commissioned a considerable quantity and for what purpose.
After greeting the Lady Governor and the Lord Prelate, Monsignor presents his daughter. Her mother’s fair beauty has been tinged by the darker coloring of her father, resulting in a golden child, her hair honey hued, the pale skin holding a warm hint of olive burnished by the sun. Except for the dark eyes, Elysia’s features are her mother’s, her figure more softly shaped. Draped in the V-neck of her rose gown, she wears a perfect double strand of pearls ornamented with a platinum clasp set with rubies, another strand worked into her hair.
Lilian looks over at Tabitha, her eyebrows raised in inquiry. With a smile, Tabitha says, “I wagered well. You shall have the largest, finest crate of early strawberries I can locate.”
While Tabitha’s friends laugh and tease her about her successful wagers, the governor and her consort are escorted into the mansion by Monsignor and Lady Estella, followed by Elysia on the arm of Micah and then Elysia’s brothers.
With the arrival of the governor, the excitement is finished for the next several bells. At dark of night, pyrotechnics will dance in the night sky over the Mercio estate. Until then, the media will replay the arrival of the guests, commenting on frocks, jewels, current and past intrigue, and family connections. There is little the media will report that the group does not already know. Pyrotechnics are never effectively captured in a visual.
Thanking Simon, Lilian and her friends take their leave. As the servitors move about, clearing away debris, Simon offers Tabitha his hand. Slipping hers into his, she allows him to lead her to the terrace. Two of the moons have risen, appearing and disappearing among the scattered clouds, casting intermittent reflections on the river. The stars are bright in the crisp air of the early green season night. The soft glow from the River Quarter Shrine Ring is evidence that the sacred flames are steady.
Simon’s eyes turn from the night sky to the hands she uses to rub her shoulders. “You did not bring a wrap?”
The evening has turned chill, as is often the case in the early green season. “It was pleasant enough when we left the quarters. I did not think of it.”
“We should go in.”
Oddly reluctant to end the evening, she says, “It is not so cold, and the view is splendid. The quarters are convenient to the cartel, but the window in my bedchamber looks on naught but the service alley.”
With a deft movement, Simon shrugs off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders. “I will keep your company as long as it pleases you.”
The soft, lightweight wool is warm from his body and permeated with his scent—rich spice and a sharp tang that she associates with the variants lab. His hands rest on her shoulders, a light caress that does not restrain. My will. She leans back, resting her head on his shoulder. Simon’s breath hitches. Turning her head, she finds his mouth but inches from hers.
He says naught. Does not move.
My will alone. His lips are firm, pleasant. They part, feathering against hers. Inviting but not taking. Closing her eyes, she breathes in his scent, familiar and comforting. Opening her lips, she tastes the wine from the reception and something that is only Simon. His arms slide around her waist, supporting but not confining. Forgotten heat unfurls below her navel, setting off delicious aching in her breasts and sex. It is wondrous and too much. Breaking the kiss, she steps away. “I am sorry. It is . . . I am not . . .”
“Peace.” Simon slides his hands in his pockets, his eyes on his boots. “If it did not please you, it did not please you.”
My will. “It did please me.”
Simon’s head jerks up, his eyes bright with amber. “Why did you cease?”
“It was too much.”
Simon cants his head. He will not press her. He has never pressed her.
“I have not felt so since before. Before . . .” She cannot voice Sebastian’s name.
“It frightened you.”
“Yes.”
“I would never harm you.”
Holding his jacket close, she steps to him, resting her forehead on his chest. “I know you would not.”
A hand traces her spine, the delicate caress reassuring but not restricting. “I am in no hurry. When you are ready.”
»◊«
Elysia on his arm, Micah follows Monsignor Lucius and Lady Estella through the entry and past the reception chambers filled with refreshments and waiting servitors. Although Monsignor is but a second cousin, Micah was half raised with Raphael and used to addressing Monsignor Lucius with the familiar ‘Uncle.’ Now with the signet on his belt, adult formality has eliminated that form of address, another change wrought by his father’s death. Changes that include a day spent reviewing endless household commerce and attempting to console his mother instead of catching up with his friends and romping with his dogs. They reach the ballroom where the elite eddy and flow to the lilting tune from the musicians’ gallery. At their arrival, the musicians finish with a flourish and the colorful crowd swirls to a stop.
For all it is a grand event and he is fond of Elysia, Micah wishes he were on Mulan preparing for a Sixth Day adventure with Raphael, well rested, and not hungry from twelve bells without a meal or respite. Halting at the entrance, the governor and Lord Gilead step aside so he can lead Elysia forward, her fingers trembling on his arm. A quick glance reassures him that it is excitement and not nerves that causes her to shiver. The lovely young woman is not the unruly but charming child from before he left for Mulan’s Temple, and he would see her shine this night.
As she comes forward, the guests applaud and cheer, bringing a flush to her cheeks and a huge smile that highlights her resemblance to Lady Estella. The musicians strike up a new tune, and Micah bows as he hands Elysia to her father. Turning to Lady Estella, he gives her his arm and escorts her to the edge of the dance floor where his mother is waiting, an empty chair next to her. He had not realized Lady Estella was so slender. Although, in this instance, the change is most likely his; he is no longer the young boy he was when she would join her sons and him in training sessions.
Lady Estella’s eyes glow as bright as her daughter’s when she turns them on Monsignor and Elysia gliding about the ballroom. There is no doubt Lady Estella is delighted with her daughter and the cotillion. As soon as she is seated, Lady Estella dismisses him. “If you want a moment before your dance with Elysia, go now while she is with her father.”
Accepting a glass of green wine from a servitor, he circles the crowded ballroom, seeking Cesare and Raphael. He finds Cesare dancing with Aristides’ daughter, Marisa, but there is no sign of Raphael. Is it possible he has already found a bed companion so early in the eve?
“There you are,” Raphael says from his right. Of a height with Micah, Raphael’s dark hair and dark eyes are replicas of his father’s, while his mother’s fair beauty has lightened Raphael’s complexion and evened his features. His hedonistic tendencies may concern Monsignor, but Micah is drawn to the lightness of spirit and outgoing charm. “Have you dined? The reception chambers are but half full.”
His stomach lurches. He has not eaten
since the morn, beset by his mother’s clinging and the demands of his signet. Checking the dancers, he shakes his head. “I am to dance with Elysia in a few moments. After that, you will find me in the nearest reception chamber, attacking the buffet as if a feral hound.”
“Perfect.” Raphael grins. “One of the junior museum patrons interests me. I will beg her hand for the next dance and then find you.”
Knowing Monsignor will escort Elysia to her mother, Micah nods and turns back toward Lady Estella, somewhat shamed at his relief that his duty to Elysia will carry him away from his mother before she can badger him with yet another fear or sorrow. Mayhap he should be more concerned that his sister, Rorie, is more interested in her books and her cat than friendships among her peers, but she seems content and troubles him not.
Elysia flashes him a smile. Has she always had that dimple? Taking her hand, he draws her onto the floor and into his arms. Her form is supple and warm and very pleasing. Her heels put them at eye level and hers are sparkling with pleasure. Twirling her out of the way of another couple, he notes several envious glances from his peers. He is not alone in his attraction to the beguiling young beauty. And for all his signet, he is but ordinary in appearance with no exceptional abilities. “You are dazzling this night. If custom did not demand you yield a dance to your escort, I do not believe I would win a single one with you.”
Elysia’s mischievous grin is very much that of the unruly child he recalls. “Your admiration quite turns my head. I may swoon. I was already besotted by the manly vision you present in your formal attire.”
Micah trips, regains his balance, and averts a collision with another couple. Laughing, he gasps. “Swoon? Manly vision?” It feels good to laugh. “What have you been reading? Certainly, naught from the Crossed Sabers’ lessons.”
“Micah, you wound me.” Elysia’s eyes widen in an attempt at soulful. “I assure you, my tender emotions are engaged.”
If it were not for her twitching lips, it would almost be believable. As it is, he cannot resist joining her game. “Tender emotions, Elysia? Then I must take wicked advantage of your beguilement and sweep you off your feet.”
With his words, Micah spins them into a wild series of turns that end with a flourish and Elysia’s satin slippers briefly lifting from the floor. As the music finishes, Elysia is laughing in his arms, the feel of her warm, shuddering form pleasing beyond expectation. Setting her on her feet, he says, “That was marvelous fun, but control yourself. I care not to be on the wrong side of your parents’ will.”
To his relief, Monsignor and Lady Estella are beaming approval when he returns Elysia to them and a knot of young warriors vying for the chance to lead her out. To his surprise, he feels more resentment than relief when he hands her off to Nickolas.
Monsignor’s hand lands on his shoulder in a familiar gesture of affection. “Well done. My daughter is glowing. How fare you?”
Better than a period gone. It is Elysia’s cotillion; his grief will not darken it. Opening his mouth to utter a bland comment, he meets his kinsman’s dark, piercing eyes. “I grieve my father and it is difficult, but I am glad to be here this night.” Glancing at Elysia, he admits, “She is all that is bright and good in warrior honor and graciousness. I did not realize how much I needed to laugh.”
Monsignor’s fingers tighten, and he nods. “I, too, grieve your sire. But you are a worthy successor. He was proud of you and would be this day.”
Swallowing against the knot in his throat, Micah nods. His stomach grumbles.
With a laugh, Monsignor releases him. “That is the sound of too much duty. Find a meal. Within the sevenday, Marco will find you and assist you in managing your new duties.”
Dismissed, Micah turns for the reception chambers and the buffet. At nineteen he is not a legal adult for all he has a signet, and there is much he does not know and lacks the maturity to handle. His mother’s mother is his regent and mentor by blood and contract. A demanding woman, her guidance is slanted in directions that will enrich her house at the expense of Blooded Dagger, his refusal to comply resulting in more than one unpleasant confrontation. Monsignor has promised Seigneur Marco will step in. It is a massive relief. His step lighter than it has been in months, Micah makes good on his promise to Raphael and attacks the buffet in the manner of a feral beast.
»◊«
At Elysia’s and Micah’s antics, Lucius exchanges a smile with Estella. Their daughter is all that is gracious, and it is well done that she teases mirth from the grieving Micah. Estella is beyond lovely. Her joy at Elysia’s success has brought color to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes. Were it not for her excessive slenderness, she could be the woman he wed twenty years gone. Unable to resist, he raises her fingers to his lips. “You grow more entrancing with each day.”
Estella’s eyes warm and Chloe titters. “So very bold. In public.”
Estella’s eyes roll, and it is all he can do to control his expression. Raising his eyes to Solomon’s widow, Lucius summons patience. He has never understood his cousin’s ability to tolerate the woman, let alone hold her in affection. Nonetheless, for Solomon’s sake he will restrain himself. “I would dare the Five Warriors’ censure for a kiss from Estella, but I regret if my actions brought you sorrow.”
Chloe’s face falls, grief searing her features before silliness returns. “Oh. Well. My dear Solomon was ever correct in his demonstrations of affection.”
Was he? As a youth Lucius frequented indulgences with Solomon and knew his kinsman as a passionate man. After he was wed, Solomon took no lovers except when exit planet. He thought it a courtesy to his mouse-ish wife, who could attract no lovers. Was it another sign of his affection for this unlikely woman?
Estella taps his hand. “It is the final waltz.”
The final waltz signals the end of the dancing and will be followed by the pyrotechnic finale. One that will be delayed for the special entertainment he has arranged. The music starts, a melody he knows Estella adores because he used it to seduce her. For all he mourns her increased fragility, this once, it will serve his purpose. Sweeping Estella into his arms, Lucius spins her out onto the floor. She cannot dance, even if her legs would hold her for the length of the waltz. The disease that is killing her has compromised her balance. With Micah as an example, it matters not. As Lucius sweeps her around the ballroom, her toes but scrape the floor. “Young Micah is not the only warrior present capable of sweeping a woman off her feet.”
Eyes sparkling, Estella laughs in delight, a sound that sings to his soul.
»◊«
Micah relishes both his full stomach and the release of anxiety provided by Uncle Lucius. Not Uncle, Monsignor. Joining Raphael and Cesare, he mingles with the throng, making certain that any female within three years of consent lacks not a partner. To his surprise, more than one flashes a palm tattoo in invitation for dalliance. Raphael has insisted for two seasons that attendance at university makes them more attractive. Micah had scoffed, but perhaps he is mistaken.
Marco’s daughter, Jenica, lacks a partner. They have known each other from the cradle but never been friends. Nonetheless, she will be shamed if left standing for the final waltz and she is but a year beyond her cotillion. Eager to please the man who is to replace his grandmother as mentor, Micah offers her his arm as the music changes. Her smile is all that is correct, her hand in his cool. Sweeping her into the dance, he finds tightly coiled muscle beneath his fingers and none of her sire’s warm humor in her expression. Struggling for conversation, he says, “Lovely cotillion, is it not?”
Jenica sniffs. “The musicians could be better.”
Five Warriors take it. He is two years her senior and she has a gift for making him feel meager. A couple spins, and he turns to avert collision. Socraide’s sword! Monsignor dances with Lady Estella and her toes but graze the floor. That they imitate his game with Elysia warms his heart, and the joy in their faces fills it. Gripping Jenica’s waist, he lifts her from her feet and follows M
onsignor. It is a mad, reckless romp and spares him from conversing with Jenica. Cesare follows, once again with Marisa, and Elysia with Raphael, who has her laughing. Wishing he could change partners with Raphael, Micah continues to spin.
The music ends, and Monsignor leads Lady Estella to the gardens beyond the ballroom. Micah uses the ensuing confusion to reclaim Elysia’s escort, more than a little pleased when she turns from Nickolas and Fletcher to take his arm.
The chill night air is pleasant after the ballroom. Following Monsignor’s tall figure, he leads Elysia to the edge of the wide terrace. A dozen heaters are scattered about, encircled by cushioned benches and lounges. Monsignor settles Lady Estella at the most central location, draping a gossamer wrap about her. He cannot imagine needing a wrap beneath a heater, but then his formal dress includes tunic and jacket while Lady Estella’s gown has her shoulders bared.
At his side, Elysia shivers. She is enchanting in the sleeveless rose gown, but he can see her flesh pebble. Shrugging out of his formal jacket he drapes it over her shoulders. Her eyes flash to his, her hands pulling the lapels closed about her.
Lackwit. She has hidden her cleavage.
Eyes warm and adoring, she says, “My thanks. You are a wondrous warrior.” She is not playing. His sex throbs and tightens. Her fingers grab his. “It is starting.”
Micah enjoys pyrotechnics as much as any, but he cannot help but feel slighted that Elysia prefers sparks to his attention. Joining her at the forefront, he takes comfort in the fact that half the males are shooting him hostile glances that she is draped in his jacket. Three breaths later, he cares for naught but the spectacular illusionists that are performing and the sweet weight of Elysia’s torso resting against his chest. Accepting that invitation, he rests his hands on her shoulders, learning the contours of the round slopes. Her head tilts back and rests on his collar. She smiles. He wishes to kiss that smile.
Brilliance explodes above them and she turns to the glittering burst.