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Ferris and Reiffen took Hubley home, but the party didn’t end when they left. The dancing continued for hours afterward in the grand ballroom, the couples twirling under the Dwarven chandeliers like riders on a carousel. Few noticed the magicians had gone, and most of those who did didn’t care. Hern and Berrel, country folk to the end, retired early, leaving Durk on a velvet cushion in one of the smoking rooms to regale those present with snippets from famous plays and his own tales of derring-do during the years he had spent lying immobile in the darkness deep beneath the Wizards’ fortress.
Avender only learned what had happened on the balcony while chatting with Lady Breeanna. Fleeing from yet another baroness who wanted him to dance with her marriageable daughters, the sight of his old friend standing alone in the tightly packed crowd attracted him like a lighthouse on a distant shore. At the very least he and Lady Breeanna had things to talk about, which was rarely the case with the baronesses’ daughters, who generally went mute in the arms of the man even their mothers considered the most eligible in the two kingdoms. But Lady Breeanna’s sharp glance warned off all pursuit, along with the fact that none of the other women could get around her ample skirts and veil.
“Thank you so much for asking,” she replied to his invitation to dance, “but I am a widow, you know. Dancing, no matter how enjoyable I might find it personally, would not be proper for a woman of my situation at all. However, it is good to see you young people enjoying yourselves so thoroughly.”
Avender reflected that the baroness was no more than two or three years older than he, and that neither of them were even close to being among the oldest present. But he was just as glad she had declined, as the last time they had danced he had nearly broken his shins. Of course that had been his first ball, and he was much better at it now. Lady Breeanna’s feet, however, remained as large as ever.
“Really, Avender,” she told him. “It is so kind of you to spend time with an aging matron like myself. Though you may not believe it,” the baroness leaned close and whispered into her companion’s ear in a voice that could be heard halfway to the river, “I was never particularly good at parties. Now that Ferris and Reiffen have left, I find I have almost no one to talk to.”
“Ferris and Reiffen left?”
The baroness’s mood switched from confidential to stern. “We found Wilbrim dueling on the roof. Can you imagine it? If my baron were still alive—”
“Wilbrim? Dueling? I hope he won. But why would Ferris and Reiffen care?”
Lady Breeanna’s eyebrows arched. “Hubley was with him. Casting spells.”
“Ah.” Avender had heard about the ban on Hubley doing magic, and wasn’t surprised it had been broken.
“Frankly, I think it a good thing Ferris and Reiffen are finally trying to rein the child in. I love Hubley dearly, but she is quite the harum-scarum. The last time she was in Backford—”
A thin woman with several strands of pearls tight as a noose around her neck made the mistake of approaching close enough to nearly interrupt. Behind her, the woman’s terribly embarrassed daughter buried her face in her hands. Lady Breeanna’s fierce scowl forced them both to retreat without a word. Some might sneer behind the baroness’s back at her prowess with a broom, but they usually quailed when facing her directly.
Avender tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile. The baroness turned her glare on him.
“You are a fine one to complain of so much attention,” she said. “I do believe you enjoy it. Their notice is complimentary, after all. It reminds me of the way the ladies used to cluster around my baron, back when I was a mere slip of a girl.”
Pulling a tiny black handkerchief from her sleeve, she dabbed at the corner of her eye. Even after a dozen years, the memory of her late husband was difficult for Lady Breeanna.
“And what have you and the magicians done with your wayward children?” asked Avender, trying to change the subject.
The baroness’s wide face set stern as stone. “Wilbrim is locked in his room. Nor will he be sitting comfortably for a while, I can assure you.”
“And Hubley?”
“Her parents took her home. Quite a row they had about it—I heard it all through the window. Their apartment is next to ours, you know. The children insisted on it years ago.”
Avender dismissed the idea of the magicians quarreling. “Ferris and Reiffen have fought since they first met. I think it’s how they let each other know they care.”
Lady Breeanna sniffed. “The baron and I never argued, but then we were remarkably well-matched. I do not suppose marriages like ours come around more than once in a generation.”
“No, I don’t suppose they do.” Though he had spent only a few days with them, Avender well remembered the old baron’s fondness for his young wife. Looking to change the conversation a second time, he stood on tiptoe and looked out around Lady Breanna’s veil at the dance floor.
“Wellin certainly looks beautiful tonight,” he said.
“She always looks beautiful.” Lady Breeanna sighed sentimentally at the sight of the queen pirouetting in the arms of one of the Cuspor captains, his inky tattoos contrasting sharply with her pale skin and hair. “I do wish I could wear yellow again, though the color never became me nearly so well as it does Her Majesty. She used to snub me terribly when we were girls, you know. I suppose it is King Brizen’s influence that has made her so sweet now.”
“He has that effect on all of us.”
Catching Avender’s eye, the queen made a small signal with her hand. Then she was gone, the Cuspor captain’s long pigtail lashing his coat as he jibed his partner back to the middle of the floor.
“I believe the queen just called me,” said Avender.
“Really?” Lady Breeanna’s broad features squeezed together in a suspicious frown. “How can you tell?”
“We have a signal. See that handkerchief in her right hand? That means she wants me for the next dance.”
“Would not that sort of thing be better left to the king?”
“The king probably needs rescuing himself. I don’t think either of them are enjoying the party that much. It’s all work for them.”
“Were it at all proper, I would volunteer for that delightful duty in a snap. As it is not, I suppose I shall have to suffer here, alone, on the outskirts of the fray.”
The music stopped. Avender slipped into the crowd before the other baronesses could reassemble their blockade. At the same time, he noticed the king of Firron bearing down on the queen from the other end of the room like a log on a spring flood. Lengthening his stride, he reached Wellin just before his rival, who was left alone on the dance floor tugging at his beard in frustration.
The queen rewarded her champion with a smile. “I was beginning to think you had forgotten your promise.”
“You know better than that.”
Taking her hand, Avender guided Wellin across the floor as the musicians started another tune. Brizen, his own arms around the Duchess of Illie, smiled at them as they passed.
“Do I? I notice you have danced twice already with Baroness Tregillis.”
“I have not. It was one long turn. I always make it a point to dance with no one more than once, except you. People talk, you know.”
“But not about me.”
“No, Your Majesty. Never about you.”
“You remain as gallant as ever. Which is why I know you will not mind my telling you how, if I had my way, I would be having a quiet supper right now with the dearest child in the world instead of dancing here with you.”
“I don’t mind at all. But not tonight. Hubley’s not here.”
The queen frowned when he explained about the duel on the roof. “But Ferris promised me that Hubley and she would stay another week.”
Avender shrugged. “Lady Breeanna said Reiffen took her home. He and Ferris had a big fight about it.”
“Then I shall have to persuade him to bring her back.” Wellin covered her previous concern with a playful smile. “Even though we shall see one another again at her birthday next month, I had very much set my heart on seeing her for more than a few hours on this visit.”
“If anyone can persuade Reiffen to relent, it’s you.”
Wellin dipped her head. “Thank you. As I have already said, you are truly the most gallant man in Banking, and not just because you are the king’s captain. Which is why I consider myself lucky to be dancing with you, when there are so many unmarried girls fighting for the chance.”
“I’m the lucky one, Your Majesty.”
“Stop calling me ‘Your Majesty’. You know I hate it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
She tried to scowl but, with her partner beaming at her, had to laugh instead. “At least I saw your potential from the first.”
“And here I thought you only picked me out of the crowd in the Old Palace because Brizen picked Ferris.”
Wellin laughed again. “Well, there was that, too. But you turned out to be much more than the simple bumpkin I supposed.”
They danced a figure without speaking. The king and his partner passed by again. From the look of rapture on the duchess’s face, Avender guessed the woman would tell the story of how she had danced with His Highness all the way to her grave. Which she would never have done with the previous king.
“Aren’t you related to the Illies?” he asked.
“She is my mother’s cousin by marriage. The fact she is dancing with Brizen is proof Brannis was right about some things in suggesting our match. At least I have helped heal some of the old wounds between Rimwich and Malmoret.”
Something in the way Wellin made that last remark made Avender regard her more closely. Was it possible she regretted doing what she had most wished for? Ferris had told him more than once the queen was upset over her childlessness, but Wellin’s face gave no sign of what she was thinking. She looked away at the other dancers, the barons and baronesses who preferred the slower pavanes, and who would be replaced soon enough by the unmarried girls and their lieutenants when the music turned quicker. Perhaps she regretted becoming one of the former, especially now she was queen.
“Why do you not marry?” she asked.
“I haven’t met the right woman.”
“What about Reiffen’s cousin Pattis? You know she would take you in a second. She is already more than half-inclined to love you, but then the same could be said of every other woman in the kingdom. The Hero of the Stoneways, and the handsomest man in the room as well.”
“She’s young. She’ll get over it. They all do.”
“I should feel insulted. There is no more attractive, and eligible, woman in Banking, now that my husband has pardoned her father’s treason. Look. There she is dancing with young Veranon. Not a penny to his name. I am surprised she even condescended to do that much, but then she probably has no idea how poor he is. And all those other young fellows lined up for their turn. She would pick you in a moment, if you joined them.”
“But I won’t.”
“Now I am insulted.”
“I’d much rather dance with you.”
“Of course you would. But you cannot marry me.”
“I can’t marry Pattis either. Can you imagine her in Valing? Herding sheep and scrubbing floors?”
“What does Valing have to do with it? My dear Avender, I cannot imagine myself in Valing either. The winters alone would be too much. I may start shivering at the very thought.”
“If I do marry, it’ll be back to Valing for me. I can’t think of any place else I’d want to have a family.”
“Nonsense. You will go where your wife takes you, and smile the entire time. Valing is behind you now. You can no more return to it than Ferris can. Besides, the king would never let you go.”
“Brizen would never make me do what I don’t want.”
“Well then, I shall be the one to make you stay. I need you to dance with when I am supposed to be dancing with heads of state.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Wellin frowned. “I like ‘ma’am’ even less than ‘Your Majesty’. Come, I do not want to dance with the king of Firron yet. He always steps on my toes, the way Lady Breeanna used to step on yours. Take me for another turn.”
“You know I can’t. If King Jursken goes back to Firron unhappy, the price of timber will rise. You and I both have our tasks tonight, you to dance with him and me to steer him toward Nolo when you’re done so they can share a few pints. You, of all people, know a queen must not shirk her duties.”
“Yes, I of all people,” she murmured crossly, allowing Avender to lead her away.
Like the queen, Avender did what he was supposed to for the remainder of the ball. The Duchess of Illie wasn’t the only woman that night who could boast of having danced with her heart’s desire. Even the daughter of the woman with the tightly wound pearls got a turn. But none of them received his full attention, not while the memory of the queen lingered in his arms and eyes. Although Avender had been able to quickly get over his feeling for Ferris, he had never been able to do the same with Wellin, perhaps because Wellin, unlike Ferris, had never really changed. Ferris had leapt off the side of the royal barge in her wedding gown and disappeared in the middle of the Great River; by the time Avender saw her again she was married and a mage. Wellin, however, had remained a princess, even after she married the prince, and the step up from princess to queen hadn’t been a long one at all. Many in Rimwich and Malmoret had been surprised at how easily the laughing girl of ballrooms and riverside picnics took to the maneuvering and secrets of Brannis’s court, but not Avender. To his mind the ball and council rooms were one and the same, both requiring sharp wit, subtle tact, and mulish perseverance. Wellin had shown all those graces and more in the little time Avender had spent with her. If the way she had baited the prince’s trap with the Hero of the Stoneways hadn’t shown the mind of a master strategist, he didn’t know what would.
That was the heart of the matter, he told himself, as he handed yet another young beauty back to her mother. Wellin had been born for this role, while for Ferris it had only been a dream. Avender wished his own dreams could be as fleeting, that someone might call him back, the way Reiffen had called Ferris. But, no matter how far away her triumph carried her, he found himself as drawn to Wellin now as he had ever been.
He left the party when the dancing was done. King Jursken and Nolo had already disappeared into one of the smoking rooms to share a barrel of Firron’s own Tamarack and sing songs about bears and snow. In another, Brizen mediated a discussion on tariffs between a pack of Malmoret merchants and the Dremen delegation. The queen, her own duty finished for the evening, had retired.
A few footmen wobbled noticeably at their posts along the halls as Avender returned to his apartment as well, but he was hardly the sort to report them. The flagon of wine he had ordered was already in his study when he arrived, and the night from his balcony was both soft and sweet. The scent of jasmine and roses mingled with the char of the candles burning low in their paper lanterns in the garden below. Lovers lingered along the river, their whispers obscured by the rustling of the water through the reeds.
“Is that you, Avender? I really cannot get rid of you this evening, can I?”
Twisting round on the iron railing at the edge of the balcony, he looked up. A small figure smudged the stars on the terrace two stories above, wisteria and trumpet vines tangling the air between them.
“Your Majesty?”
“I see we both had the same idea. A little quiet before bed. It has been a long day.”
“It certainly has. Especially for you and the king.” Avender glanced toward the hall door, hoping his guest would be late. Right now he preferred the company of the queen.
“Worse for Brizen than for me. I fear it will be some time yet before he joins me. If he is able to join me at all.”
Before Avender could answer the melancholy in the queen’s voice, she went on.
“I enjoyed dancing with you very much. It made me remember the old days.”
Avender had been remeinded of the old days too, but then he remembered the old days all the time. Rare was the ball when Wellin didn’t insist on their taking at least one turn together. Her wedding had been one of the few exceptions, mostly because Avender had spent the evening consoling himself with the widow Menliss, and most of the night as well. The widow had been kind enough to teach him how much a hero could be in demand for less than heroic deeds.
“Do you ever think of what might have been?” she asked.
Startled by the directness of her question, he thought before replying. But there was a reason his apartment was in a seldom-used part of the palace, and they both knew it.
Stars streamed above her head like a veil in a high wind as he answered,
“I think about it all the time.”
“I would never have made you happy," she said.
“Perhaps not,” he agreed, despite the way his heart began thumping at her unexpected boldness. “Especially after what you said earlier this evening about not liking the weather in Valing.”
The queen’s rich laughter hovered in the scented air. “You are, as ever, too gallant.”
“I have learned never to be gallant with Your Majesty. You imbibe gallantry the way a babe quaffs its mother’s milk.”
“You should not tease me. I shall tell my husband to send you on a mission to Cuspor, where you will no doubt drown in a winter gale.”
“As you command.” He pantomimed a bow, which was difficult to do leaning backward over an iron railing.
“Stop it. I mean it. You sound as false as Mindrell.”
“My apologies, Your Majesty. Neither of us want that.”
Bracing her hands on the railing, the queen leaned farther out over the night-gray roses and looked east across the river. Avender, not wanting her to go back inside, spoke again.
“What about you? Do you ever think of what might have been?”
“Yes.”
They stood that way for some time. Avender wondered if he would have the strength to turn away should the queen choose to look down and meet his gaze. Long years of yearning lifted in his heart, but he knew he would never say a word. Brizen was his friend. And the king was a good man, who did not deserve falseness. All the same, Avender watched and dreamed. He would remain where he was through the entire night if Wellin chose to stand on her balcony. Such moments were precious to him, and not just for their rarity.
A door whispered. Long skirts rustled across the rug.
“Avender?”
He glanced away from the queen. A slender form leaned lazily against the balcony door, one long arm raised against the jamb. Bare shoulders shimmered above a dark gown.
“One minute, love.”
The queen looked down. “What was that? I did not quite make out what you said.”
The lips of the woman in the doorway framed an anxious question. Avender held up a finger and looked back at the queen.
“Is there someone with you?” she asked.
“Why would you think that?” he replied.
Perhaps her face clouded, but the night was too dark to tell. Avender wondered if his own trolling in foreign waters bothered Wellin as much as hers had troubled the king before their marriage.
“Because of your reputation, sir. I have half a mind to come down there and see who it is.”
“At this time of night? Please, Your Majesty. What would the castle gossips say if you were to come to my room? Even you would be talked about, then.”
She leaned farther over the balcony, crushing blossoms against her robe. The woman in Avender’s room stepped back into shadow, her skirts hissing. Avender couldn’t tell if it was his imagination, but he was almost certain he saw the queen’s eyes gleam.
“I could bring my ladies-in-waiting with me,” she warned.
“You could. But then how angry with yourself would you be if you find I actually do have a guest in my room? And that my guest is a friend? With so many witnesses, it would be impossible to prevent the story from getting out.”
“You are impossible,” the queen replied, but her anger was gone.
“Goodnight, Your Majesty.”
“Goodnight, Avender. I only wish my duties were as pleasant as yours.”
Straightening, the queen disappeared. A last wisp of starlit robe waved goodbye. Avender pushed himself off the railing, the smell of roses lingering behind him, and returned to the bedroom. Baroness Tregillis came out of the darkness, her eyes wide.
“Was that really the queen?” she asked as he held her.
“Yes.”
The baroness pushed him away. “Did she see me? If she did, it will be terrible for both of us. My husband will feel compelled to fight you, which will only get him killed.”
Avender kissed his finger and pressed it lightly against her lips. “Hush. We’re safe. The queen is not a gossip.”
The baroness shook her head, her neck and shoulders straining. “I do not feel safe. It would be a great thing to love you, but not for this sort of risk. What was I thinking?” She raised a hand to her forehead, her smooth skin creasing in confusion.
Avender let his hands drop. He had been caught off guard by the queen’s appearance as well and, if her ladyship’s mood had vanished, well then so had his. “Perhaps it was the wine, baroness. By all means leave, if that’s what you want. I can well understand your change of heart.”
Some of the worry softened in her eyes. “You can? You really are a lovely man. But I do think it would be better if I go. I am sorry.”
“Don’t be. What we might have done is difficult enough without worrying about regrets. Let me see if the passage outside is clear.”
Crossing to the door, Avender stepped into the corridor as if his was the most innocent action in the world. Left and right, there was no one else in the hall. He beckoned the woman forward.
She kissed him impulsively. “I wish I had met you before I married the baron,” she said.
“No you don’t.”
She didn’t argue. From the doorway, he watched her pass down the hall. She was a charming woman, but there were many charming women in Malmoret, and a few in Rimwich, too. He tried to steer clear of the ones who were too much in earnest, but he didn’t mind when those who weren’t changed their minds. Sometimes they had been known to change them back again. And it would never do to enjoy the company of someone who didn’t really want to be there.
Uncorking the bottle on the desk, he poured himself a glass of wine. Occasionally he was troubled by what he did, but tonight was not one of those times. The world had not offered him an alternative. No tidy cottage with sons and daughters tussling in the yard; not even Valing Manor. Who was there to share such a prize with him? He hadn’t found her. Instead he accepted those who found him instead, the embrace of women who should have known better, or did and didn’t mind.
But sometimes, especially when he visited Ferris and Reiffen in Grangore and watched them roll their eyes in exasperation as their daughter ordered them around, he wished he had been lucky enough to find something else. It was draining, loving other men’s widows and wives.
Cup in hand, he went back out to the balcony. The night took him in again, leaves rustling and scent kissing his nose. On the other side of the river the lights of Nearside flickered at the edge of the water like beads on a child’s necklace. Sipping his wine, he looked at the balcony above and dreamed of Wellin being one of those women who someday changed her mind.