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SHIANAN SMILED, MADE a polite comment, and watched as Escher moved away through the crowd, leaving him alone again. This was miserable, he should never have come...
“Shianan!”
He whirled, his ears burning, and Ariana leaned toward him to be heard over the music and chatter, her face bright with exertion and excitement. “I did not know you were here! I’ve been trying to see you for days—but how smart you look! This really suits you.”
She was in a gown of deep red, her dark hair arranged high and cascading down her back. Above her left breast was a gauzy black scarf twisted into a perfect circle and pinned into place, denoting her honored position. Her eyes ran over Shianan, possibly admiring his extravagant clothing or possibly looking for evidence of his beatings.
“I—er—thank you,” Shianan stammered.
She laughed. “You needn’t say it like that. I did mean it. You never believe a compliment, do you?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not really myself at the moment.” He shifted inside the prickling collar. “Welcome back. Welcome home.”
She sobered. “Yes. Thank you. I’m glad I had the chance, before the shield was recreated.”
He caught his breath. Did she know? Did she know what he had done to save her?
But she smiled and continued, “At least I had the chance to participate this time.”
No. No, she did not know.
He stood there, absolutely still in the whirling crowd, uncertain of what he could say. Her eyes shifted, looking over his shoulder to some excitement beyond him, and in sudden panic he sallied, “So we’re safe, then? No more Ryuven?”
This somehow seemed to sadden her. “No more Ryuven,” she repeated. “We’re safe. No more war.”
“Most think that a good thing,” he answered, trying to tease back her cheerful expression. “No more war with the Ryuven, no more massacres, no more fighting or starving.”
She nodded, still a little wan. “That’s right. No more soldiers dedicating their lives to danger and dying to protect us. You can live a normal life.”
Ice lanced through Shianan. No more soldiers... But that was all he was. He could not have a normal life, not the bastard. Every honor, every recognition, every scrap of praise had been hard-won by military accomplishment. Without the war...
“You can all live normal lives,” Ariana said with determined relief. She tipped up her chin. “Do you dance, Shianan Becknam?”
He blinked. “I...”
“It’s a simple enough question. Do you dance?”
“Not well.”
“Good,” she declared. “Then I won’t feel too ill-suited for you. Come with me?” She grasped his arm and pulled him into the maelstrom of music.
Shianan had little time to consider refusal, and they were promptly surrounded by swaying couples barring his escape. She transferred her grip to his hand and began to pace with the others, giving him an encouraging smile. Shianan moved haltingly, stiff with uncertainty and hot with embarrassment. But Ariana kept hold of his hand and matched his pace, and gradually he began to move more freely. She twirled and came to face him, her hands resting on his forearms, her face lifting toward his as she laughed at her own play, and he caught his breath. She was so near, and so joyous, and they were both alive.
“You’re not doing so badly,” she told him.
His hands ached to slip about her waist, but this was a different style of dance, and that might be too forward. He tightened his fingers about her arms and leaned nearer to her. “My lady mage...”
The music ended with a pipe trill and the dancers about them paused to breathe, laughing and speaking. Ariana hesitated a moment in his grasp, looking at him, and then she drew away with a quick, shy smile. “That was a fine dance, once you began. Thank you for partnering me.” She plucked at her skirt.
Shianan swallowed. “My lady mage, you—you’re beautiful,” he blurted. Horror swept him. “I mean, you look absolutely beautiful tonight.” That was hardly better. “I mean...”
“Your lordship.” A voice came from behind him.
Shianan tightened his fingers on Ariana. “Yes?” he asked, turning his head over his shoulder.
But it was Mage Hazelrig who smiled disarmingly back at him. “Only a moment.” He held out two decorated cups. “I thought the two of you might want something to drink after that.”
“Er, thank you,” Shianan accepted awkwardly. He took the cup which Hazelrig offered and drank. Chilled watered ale, safe enough.
He looked again at the older mage, dressed in a doublet of rich midnight blue. It made a stark contrast with the white scarf pinned to his chest, twisted in an exact circle.
“Your scarves are too perfect,” Shianan commented. “Mere cloth shouldn’t be able to hold that shape. Are they magicked?”
Ariana laughed aloud. “No, no. They’re wrapped about a metal ring. See?”
Hazelrig was amused. “We needn’t use magic for everything. That would be both difficult and wasteful.”
Shianan chuckled. “I suppose that’s true.” He took another sip. “Thank you for the drinks.”
Ariana nodded and looked about. “Linner was asking me to dance,” she said in a lower voice, “but I don’t see him now. Which is just as well, because I’m hoping someone else will ask me for the next one.” She tossed a pointed glance toward Shianan. “After all, I issued the last invitation.”
Shianan caught his breath and glanced toward Hazelrig, but the mage only smiled at his daughter. Shianan looked from the White Mage, unconcerned about the bastard, to Ariana, sipping her watered ale to hide a grin, and for just one moment life was perfect.
“Excuse me, your lordship,” cut in a polite voice. “One moment?”
Shianan turned to a bowing slave.
“If you please, your lordship, I am instructed to bring you.”
The slave straightened, his eyes respectfully below the commander’s, and Shianan’s brief joy shattered into icy crystals. This was Prince Soren’s personal servant—Allan, or Efren, or Ethan, yes. Had the prince seen him dancing with Ariana? What did he want?
“My lord?”
Shianan gulped. “I—yes. I’ll come.” He turned to the two mages, who looked concerned. He must not have guarded his expression well. “Please excuse me.”
Ariana reached for his arm. “My—Shianan,” she began, her voice quiet and urgent, “is it the king?”
“Prince Soren has sent for me.” Beside him, the servant gave a small cough.
“Will you—will you come afterward? To dance?”
’Soats, she saw right through him. She was worried for him.
He forced himself to smile. “I’ll come when I may. Enjoy yourself.” He bowed to the two of them and turned to follow the waiting slave.
Ethan led him through the crowd and out a heavy, carved door. They would be meeting in private, then. They made two turns in the corridors and Ethan paused to knock at another carved door before opening it. He bowed and gestured Shianan inside.