She fled back into the Moonlight Hall, this time almost flinging herself into Jak’s arms. “I promised you a dance, didn’t I? Isn’t this a lovely time for a dance? I think so!”
Jak frowned at her, his open face worried. “Are you all right, Sandry?” he asked. “Has someone insulted you?” He looked up and glared at Shan, who had followed Sandry inside. “If fer Roth upset you in any way—”
Sandry covered Jak’s mouth with her hand. “I’m fine,” she told him, catching her breath. “Let’s dance, please.”
As Jak guided her out onto the floor, Sandry gave herself a good talking-to. You’ve been kissed before, she scolded silently. Now you act like a girl who put on her first veil just a day ago. Get hold of yourself and stop acting like a ninnyhammer! Try some of the complicated dances you keep refusing to do. Concentrating on your feet could keep your silly imagination from, well, imagining.
She danced often and, despite her fears about the complex dances, very well. She danced until her garments were soaked with perspiration and she couldn’t catch her breath. Only when her feet began to hurt did she excuse herself and retire to her rooms.
She took a quick bath first, while Gudruny took care of her damp clothes. Once she had slithered into her nightgown and robe, she let Gudruny brush her hair. As soon as her maid was gone, Sandry threw herself onto her bed with disgust.
Now Shan will think I don’t like him, and I do! I don’t suppose there’s a way a lady can apologize and say, I wish you’d kiss me again, now that I’m not so distracted. I have to let him know somehow that it wasn’t anything to do with him.
Well, nothing much, she amended honestly. I just got kissing and love all confused.
That thought made her sit up. Daja’s in love, she thought, feeling woebegone. After all this time. It’s wonderful, but…she’ll want to stay, won’t she? She’ll want to stay with Rizu. She won’t want to go home.
A single large teardrop rolled down her cheek. Sandry dashed it away impatiently. Of all times to turn into a big bubble of jumpiness, this is the worst, she told herself, getting out of bed. I need to calm down.
There was only one thing she could do. She took out her night light, placed it on a small table, then got her workbasket. Embroidery, she said firmly. Just what the healer advised.
Finlach fer Hurich slammed into the miserable two rooms that were his lot in the imperial palace and kicked a footstool into the wall. A laughingstock, he thought, grinding his teeth until they ached. She made me a laughingstock before the entire court, getting rid of me on a pretext—oh, Fin, I’m so hot, I simply must sit down and have some ice! And the minute my back is turned, she’s dancing with that brainless chunk of muscle Jak!
He paced in the little space he had, considering his options. They’re saying Shan courts her behind the empress’s back, he thought, running a restless palm over the dagger on his belt. I know the man’s ambitious, but surely he’s no fool. Even the Landreg moneybags can’t protect him from imperial disfavor—can they?
He waved the idea away. Only a fool would try to deceive Berenene, Fin decided. But Jak. Sandry’s favored Jak since we got to Landreg. Tonight she openly snubbed me for him. So I’ve lost that race. Well, I’m not going to wait for her and Jak to start billing and cooing, for me to become the laughingstock of the empire. Her Imperial Majesty admires bold men who take what they want—well, at least, bold men who don’t try to take her. Maybe, if I’m bold enough to snag her precious cousin, I could be her next favorite, and Sythuthan take Shan and Quen and her other pets!
My uncle said I was to call on him if I need help.
I don’t dare wait. Summer goes quick as the wind in Dancruan, and Jak’s a fast worker.
His mind made up, Fin sat down at his desk, found his ink bottle, paper, and pen, and began to write.
14
The 8th – 22nd days of Rose Moon, 1043 K. F.
The Imperial Palace
Dancruan, Namorn
The party was not going the way Briar had expected it to. He’d certainly come with the intention of luring Caidy into a shadowed corner of the garden for a bit of fun, but Caidy had chosen to torment him first. She snubbed him three times as he approached to ask her to dance, walking off with someone else as he approached. The first two times he simply grinned and asked another girl to dance. The third time, when Caidy smirked at him over Fin’s shoulder as he whirled her away, Briar stopped to reconsider.
This is stupid, he thought. All these people with their jewels on, watching to see who envies them and who doesn’t, who favors who, it’s all a waste of time. What do they accomplish by it? Why do I waste my time on this silly game?
An image of the dead of Gyonxe blotted out the gaudy dancers. Briar could smell rotting flesh. For a moment he heard not music and laughter, but the whistle of the wind blowing over rock. He shook his head to banish the image and pinched his nose to drive out the stench. I left all that back there, he thought fiercely. All I wanted to do was go home and remember what fun is like!
Weary, sweating, Briar looked at the thronged room. All these nice clothes, all these jokes and drinks and food, what good does it do? he wondered tiredly. Tomorrow, folk will be poor and starving and dying with a soldier’s pike in them, and these people will have another celebration, more nice clothes, more jokes, more gems. The suffering is forgotten, or ignored—why sorrow? The war victims aren’t our people. And the wheel turns and suddenly they are our people.