Ahead of them, Bhayrn and Malyna took a position before and on the right side of the dais on which the players were seated. Charyn guided Aloryana to an equidistant position on the left. That positioned him beside his mother when Lorien, as rex, took his position in the center.
Chelia asked quietly without looking at Charyn, “In addition to listing possible partners, have you also picked out the order in which you’ll ask them to dance?”
Charyn wasn’t surprised. “No, and I may not be able to dance with all of them.”
“I’d keep your journals a bit more private.”
“You’ve read them?”
“I was tempted, but, outside of the first page, which was last year’s ball, I haven’t. I trust you’ve applied the same diligence to others beyond the young ladies.”
“More to the others. I don’t have the easiest natural skills with people.”
“You underestimate yourself, but that’s scarcely the greatest fault.”
In the pause that followed, Charyn studied those in the ballroom, picking out the three ministers and their wives, as well as Marshal Vaelln and his wife.
Lorien gestured, and a brief fanfare filled the ballroom.
“Maitre D’Image Alastar, Maitre D’Image Alyna,” announced the chateau herald.
Charyn let his eyes take in the pair who effectively ruled the Collegium Imago as they approached the rex and the rest of the regial party. Maitre Alastar remained a striking and broad-shouldered figure, although his once-silver-gray hair was now streaked with white. His carriage was erect, his steps strong. Beside him walked Maitre Alyna, a good head shorter than her husband. While she was trim, she was too muscular to be petite, and there was something about her, to Charyn’s eyes, that was formidable, especially when her eyes passed across him just before she and the Maitre paused before the rex. There was also something disconcertingly familiar about Maitre Alyna, something he had not noticed at previous balls.
Both inclined their heads slightly, and Lorien replied with an equal nod. Then the two maitres turned and proceeded past Chelia and Charyn, where they took a position a yard or so to Aloryana’s right.
Chelia did not look once in the direction of either maitre as she murmured in a low voice, “I will remind you once more. You are to limit your attentions beyond the dance floor as we discussed. That is why matters are as they are.”
“I understand perfectly,” he replied with a smile. “Your arrangements are perfectly satisfactory. More than that, in fact, and I appreciate the care you have taken.”
“Thank you. I learned more than I wished from your uncle. We will not discuss the matter more.”
Charyn nodded and concentrated on watching and listening as the first councilor entered the ballroom.
“High Councilor Basalyt D’Alte and Lady Basalyt.”
As were most of the High Councilors, Basalyt was older, allowing him to spend much of the year in L’Excelsis, while his heir handled the estates and any factorages, but he moved gracefully with perfect posture as he and Lady Basalyt entered the ballroom and made their way to one side, since none of the councilors would join the rex. That would have signified a formal meeting, which balls were not.
“High Councilor Khunthan D’Alte…”
“High Councilor Fhaedyrk D’Alte and Lady Fhaedyrk…”
“High Councilor Oskaryn D’Alte…”
“High Councilor Ryel D’Alte and Lady Ryel…”
Charyn studied the Chief Councilor, the uncle he only met briefly and in passing, if upon a number of occasions, whose once-blond hair had silvered and thinned noticeably over the past few years, as he and Doryana made their way among the High Holders who had already arrived.
After several moments, the orchestra began to play, and Charyn turned to his sister, bowed, and then took her hand.
When they began to dance, Charyn smiled and said, “I know it’s not very exciting to have your first dance in public with your brother, but we both know it’s a matter of form.”
“You dance well, and I don’t have to pretend with you,” Aloryana replied. “I won’t be thrilled to dance with some of those approved by Father. You get to choose, if with certain considerations, I’m sure. You’ll be quite busy.”
“Father would be very disappointed otherwise,” Charyn replied, “don’t you think?”
“Doesn’t it bother you?”
“It’s a small price to pay.” There are others far greater.
“The first of many.”
“I thought you’d be happier tonight.”
“So did I.”
“Why aren’t you?” asked Charyn, trying to express the concern he felt.
“I don’t know.”
Charyn thought she did, that she’d thought the ball would somehow be special, but that it had turned out to be simply larger than their everyday life, with more elegant clothes and more people. He didn’t press. “Enjoy what you can, and learn all you can.”
“You make everything sound so cold.”
“You know I’m far from cold.”
“That’s what I don’t understand.”
“It’s to be kept from being used. Almost everyone wants to use us for some purpose. Like it or not, you can’t forget it.”
“So you’ll do them one better?” asked Aloryana softly.
“No. I just don’t wish to be anyone’s tool.” Especially Father’s.
As the music died away, Charyn guided his sister back to the dais, where Bhayrn was waiting. Charyn had no doubt that one of their parents had strongly “suggested” Bhayrn request the dance from Aloryana.
In turn, he moved swiftly but gracefully to Malyna. “Might I have the next dance?”
“You might.”
As Charyn took her hand, and they began to dance, he offered an amused smile, then said, “I think this will be the most private conversation we’ve had since you came to the chateau.”
“I’ve never avoided you.”
“But we’ve never been in the same room alone. Well, once, but only for a few moments.”
Malyna raised her well-formed eyebrows and gave a quick look around the dance floor. “This is alone?”
“Sometimes there might be more privacy in a crowd. Anyway, as you must know from my earlier comments, I did some looking through the archives, and I found Vaelora. Not only was she Rex Regis’s sister, but she was the first Minister of Administration for him, and she married the first Maitre of the Collegium. So that confirms that we’re related, if rather distantly.”
“You were rather persistent.” Her smile was one of amusement. “I didn’t know that she’d also been a minister. I doubt there have been any others since.”
“I wouldn’t doubt that, either. In fact, I’m inclined not to doubt anything you say in all seriousness.”
“That could be dangerous, too.”
“I said ‘in all seriousness.’” Charyn smiled. “You’ve never said when you will be returning to Rivages.”
“Your father and the weather will have a great deal to say in that regard. At present, with the snow as it is, I fear I will be in L’Excelsis for some time, either here at the chateau … or elsewhere.”
“If you must remain, I trust you will remain at the chateau.”
“As we both know, that is not my decision to make.”
“That may be, but you make the chateau a much more pleasant place by your presence.”
“You’re too kind.”
“You should know me better than that.” When Malyna did not reply, he asked, “What, if I might ask, do you and Aloryana talk about?”
“Mostly about what High Holder girls do. You must know that she feels hemmed in, almost kept.”
“She’s said as much. But isn’t everyone?”
“It’s different to be walled in by privilege rather than by poverty.”
“I wouldn’t argue that, but to some degree, everyone is limited by their situation.”
“You seem able to escape many of those li
mits.”
“For the moment, yes. I don’t see my father escaping them, not without severe and adverse consequences.”
“Such as those that befell your grandsire?”
“I’d prefer not to get into that position.”
“What if the conflict between the rest of the world and your position were to place you in that situation?”
Charyn laughed softly. “That’s a good question. I’m glad I don’t have to answer it at the moment.”
“You may in the future.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Times are changing. If we cannot change the times, then it may be that the only way to survive and prosper is to change ourselves.”
“That doesn’t sound like the thought of a High Holder’s daughter.”
Malyna laughed. “It’s not. I cribbed it from my uncle. He’s not a High Holder. My father would likely dispute the thought.”
As the music ended, Charyn guided Malyna to the dais, where, surprisingly, Maitre Alastar waited.
“If I might borrow the young woman, Charyn?”
“Of course.” Charyn stepped back, wondering. Had his mother requested that the Maitre ask Malyna to dance?
Rather than waste time on speculation about it, Charyn moved away from the dais and his family toward the nearest young woman whose name he knew, stopping short of her father, inclining his head, and asking, “High Holder Nacryon, might I ask your daughter for the next dance?”
Nacryon nodded. “You might.”
Charyn turned to the oval-faced blonde with gray eyes. “Mistress Cynthalya, might I have the pleasure of the next dance?”
“You might, Lord Charyn.”
As the music began, he took her hand and eased her away from her parents. “You look lovely this evening.”
Cynthalya raised both eyebrows.
Charyn grinned once they had moved farther away from her father and were separated by other dancers. “More than lovely … ravishing. That’s what I would have said if your father had not been so interested in my words. The green gown sets off your eyes.”
“You must say something like that to every woman.”
“Oh, no. I do say in what manner each looks lovely, but that’s not a lie, and it’s also so that I don’t cause hurt feelings and comparisons between young ladies and the parents of the young ladies, but once we’ve danced away … then I can express myself more freely.”
“What if she’s already married?”
“Then, I congratulate her on her husband’s good fortune and lament the fact that I can’t possibly do anything untoward.”
Cynthalya offered only a faint smile.
“They know I’m exaggerating slightly, but it does no harm, just as most men like to be told that that they dance well, even when they can barely avoid planting their feet on their partner’s shoes.”
“You do far better than that, Lord Charyn.”
“You see? I’m a good dancer, but not outstanding, and you’re not exaggerating in your compliment … and I try hard not to do that as well.” As he moved, he glanced back toward the dais, where he saw that Maitre Alastar was indeed dancing with Malyna, and his father was dancing with Maitre Alyna. He nodded and listened.
“Do you feel you have to charm all the young ladies?”
“I’d rather do that than bore them, but I’d rather listen to what you can tell me about yourself, since all that I know is what I see and that your father is High Holder Nacryon … and that your hold is near Mantes.”
“Since you insist…” Her smile was polite, but not especially warm. “I am the youngest of four. I have two older brothers and an older sister…”
Charyn listened, prompting with an occasional question.
At the end of the dance, he escorted her back to her parents, then made his way to High Holder Ryel, whose eyes obviously narrowed at his approach.
“Good evening, Uncle.”
“Good evening. Will we be formal?”
“Not excessively so. How are you faring?”
“I’d be far happier if your father would let me relinquish the position as head of the High Council.”
“He’s mentioned that. Why do you feel it’s time to step down?”
“I’ve served long enough. Now I’m getting threats from factors.”
“From factors?”
“Who else could it be? Especially with the mentions of protecting trade and keeping tariffs low for factors. Almost no High Holders are in shipping. Then that business about the exchange in Solis is being laid at the feet of High Holders. Why would any High Holder bother with destroying a building whose function is easily moved?” Ryel’s expression of disgust faded, replaced by a warm smile. “He hasn’t mentioned what he intends to do, has he?”
“He’s told me that you’ve been threatened and would prefer not to remain. He hasn’t told me or even hinted what his decision will be.”
“Does he keep everything that close?”
“At least that close.” Except to Mother. But Charyn wasn’t about to mention that.
“Your sister is quite beautiful. So is the other young lady. Is she someone … special?”
“I suppose she is, but not in the way you think. She’s a distant relative, the youngest daughter of High Holder Zaerlyn. Malyna D’Zaerlyn.”
“She must be his youngest. I don’t recall her.”
“She is. Her father requested that we guest her so that she could attend the Year-Turn Ball.”
“Rather unusual for your father to grant such a request, I would think. He’s never done that for anyone before.”
“Repaying a favor, I believe. What favor I have no idea.” Charyn knew he probably shouldn’t have said that, but he wanted to get a reaction.
“I can’t imagine what favor a porcelain-factoring High Holder might offer to the rex.”
“Neither can I.” Charyn inclined his head. “How is your family?”
“As well as can be expected, Doryana brought the children here for winter. She doesn’t have as much to do with the lands in winter.”
Children? Then Charyn realized his uncle was talking about his grandchildren, whom he seemed to regard as his children, which, Charyn supposed, they were in a way, since their parents were both dead. “It’s good to see you again. I need to fulfill my responsibilities to the young ladies.”
Ryel only nodded in return.
As Charyn headed toward the nearest unoccupied young lady, Shaelyna D’Baeltyn, he had the feeling that the ball was the last place that his uncle wanted to be. Charyn couldn’t blame him, given that neither of his parents cared for Ryel. What Charyn didn’t understand was why, if they both disliked him so much, his father was reluctant to let Ryel leave the High Council.
After the dance with Shaelyna, who was polite, poised, and not terribly interested or interesting, Charyn approached High Holder Basalyt, who looked stern and bored.
“Good evening, High Holder.”
For a moment, Basalyt looked annoyed, but then smiled. “Lord Charyn, you surprised me.”
“I just wanted to greet you personally. I have neither messages nor an agenda … except to exchange a few words, tell you that I appreciate the effort you and your wife made to come in this weather, especially since it is somewhat more chill…”
“Than Bartolan? It is indeed, but it’s also more pleasant in L’Excelsis, or at our dwelling outside L’Excelsis, in the summer.”
After passing a few pleasantries, Charyn then made his way to High Holder Fhaedyrk and his wife, who were merely observing the dancers.
“Lord Charyn? Making the rounds, are you?” Fhaedyrk smiled broadly. So did his wife, a large and big-boned woman who looked not to carry any excess weight.
“I didn’t think it would hurt to see if you were enjoying the evening, or at least not being tortured by the tedium of a ritual event.”
“It’s good to see the young people enjoying themselves.”
“Might I ask, Lord Charyn,” interjecte
d Lady Fhaedyrk, “who the dark-haired young woman escorted by your brother might be? Her gown…”
“Suggests a familial tie? It does. She is the youngest daughter of High Holder Zaerlyn, who is a very distant relative descended from the sister of the first Rex Regis. Her father asked if she could guest here in order to attend the Year-Turn Ball.”
“And there’s more than that?”
“Unhappily, no,” replied Charyn with a laugh.
“Such a pity…” offered Lady Fhaedyrk. “She’s lovely.”
“She’s also very intelligent,” returned Charyn.
“There’s something about Zaerlyn…” mused Fhaedyrk, “but I can’t recall what it is.” He shook his head. “It will likely come to me in the middle of the night. That’s what comes with age. Enjoy your youth, Lord Charyn. It vanishes all too soon.”
“You sound so gloomy, dear,” said Lady Fhaedyrk. “It doesn’t disappear that quickly.”
After several more exchanges of not-quite-banalities, Charyn slipped away and made his way to the next young lady he recognized.
“You look lovely this evening, Mistress Alyncya,” offered Charyn as he inclined his head. “Might I have this dance?” Charyn looked to High Holder Shendael, who nodded, and then to Alyncya.
“You might, Lord Charyn.”
As the music swelled and he guided her away from her father, he said, “I think I prefer you in the peach, rather than the crimson.” And he did, because it seemed to bring out her sandy brown hair and hazel eyes.
For the briefest of moments, Alyncya’s countenance showed surprise. “I’m surprised you remembered. How did you manage that? Please don’t tell me that a single dance of less than half a quint remained in your memory for an entire year.”
“Then I won’t. Not completely. I studied the invitation list and the replies,” he answered truthfully. More intently that anyone could possibly guess. “When I saw your name, I did remember what you wore.” With a little help.
“I do appreciate the effort, Lord Charyn, but why do you bother? None of us would dare refuse.” Alyncya’s words were warmly humorous.
Charyn had to admit that he liked both the honest appraisal in her eyes and the warm firmness of her voice. He kept his tone light as he replied. “Because I’d prefer not to be considered regially imperious … or not so beyond the circumstances of my birth, about which I can do nothing.”
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