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Valamir Square was full of revelers as Molly and Quincy made their way back to the palace. The people out here around the big bonfires and the musicians’ stages were the commonest of commoners—the sort of people who hadn’t been invited to a decent party and had to get their drinks at taverns tonight. Molly had enough love in her heart—and wine in her stomach—to feel sorry for anyone who wasn’t going to the duke’s Solstice celebration. And who didn’t have new clothes for the occasion.
At first she had wondered if anyone would want to celebrate at all. Certainly in those first few weeks after her return from the battlefield, she hadn’t much wanted to party. But the odd thing was that not everyone agreed that there had been a defeat. Some people thought it had all been a clever ruse by Duke Lukas to draw out the Sigor and Byrne forces. Quincy had explained the theory to her earlier, while they had been waiting for his tailor to finish his new embroidered surcoat.
“Everyone says the Earl of Hyrne lost more men than we did. And Sir Halvor was a diversion—burn some Sigor estates, gather some supplies, that sort of thing. If you ask me, his grace had it all planned.”
Molly wasn’t sure that was true. Granted, Lukas had never told her directly that his goal was, indeed, to capture Keneburg, but she had been pretty sure it was implied. Surely he hadn’t intended to go partway there, then turn around and come back. And she didn’t like the implications of Quincy’s theory, because if Lukas had really planned it all from the beginning, then that made his leaving her and the baggage train defenseless all the more inexcusable. Molly’s way to resolve this problem was to think about it as little as possible.
The feast was enormous—almost as grand as the ones at Wealdan Castle, in fact. People were very tipsy already, and only some quick thinking by Quincy, pulling Molly to safety, saved her shoes from a vomiting nobleman in the courtyard. The great hall had been decked out in silver and gold ribbons, with painted stars hanging from the ceiling and hundreds of candles in little sconces. Food was laid out along one wall—dish after dish in such an extravagant profusion that Molly wondered if Lukas’s army could even eat it all. There were spicy Sahasran soups and venison steaks and sausages of every possible size. There was a whole table of cheeses—hard cheeses and soft cheeses and cheeses with little bits of other things stuck in them.
Molly was very impressed. And more than a little proud to think she was the lover of the man who had paid for all this. “A man who can have anything he wants chose me,” she thought, and the idea made her shiver with pleasure.
A few women now talked to her. Mostly they were the wives and lovers of Quincy’s fellow knights of the retinue. There were others, though—sad little peripheral creatures like she had been—and they rushed to bring her drinks and food. They begged for her approval of their dresses. They brought their young gentlemen over to meet her, hoping that she would say they were a “fine match.”
At first, that had been a tremendous relief—she wasn’t hated here anymore! But then it became a burden, especially since she lived at the palace now, and she couldn’t get away from those women. Even worse, she still wasn’t being accepted into the higher ranks of the court ladies. Duchess Carrine cut her dead whenever they encountered each other, and most of the countesses and baronesses followed her lead. In some ways, it felt as if Molly had come a very long way. And in others, it felt like she had made no progress at all.
Eventually, Molly retired to the parlor of her little suite of rooms, where the music wasn’t quite so loud, and she could have a few minutes to herself without her little gaggle of admirers running after her. She wasn’t sure if she would go back to the party at all, or if she would wait here until Lukas came to see her. She had bought a book of absolutely filthy Sahasran engravings, showing all sorts of novel ways that men and women could pleasure each other, and she intended to surprise Lukas with something new tonight.
After a few minutes, there was a knock, and she draped herself languidly over her couch, with her skirt hiked up over a knee and her bodice slightly too low. Then she called out, “Come in!”
It wasn’t Lukas. It was his bastard, Sir Halvor. He was down for the holidays from his camp near Formacaster.
She quickly tugged her dress into a more modest position. “Can I help you?”
He bowed. “My father sent me to tell you he might be a little late. He has many demands on his time.”
“Oh. Well, tell him not to worry. I quite understand.”
Halvor nodded, but didn’t leave. He looked her slowly and dispassionately up and down. “It seems neither of us is quite welcome at this party, Miss Coburn.”
She wasn’t sure if he was trying to be offensive, but if he was, then he was succeeding. “Well, Sir Halvor, people say you almost cost us the war.”
“And people say you’re distracting my father from his responsibilities.” He shook a finger at her. “One should never listen to vile rumors.”
“Fair enough. Did you need something, Sir Halvor? I had some reading I wanted to do.”
“Yes. I’ve been meaning to ask you a question. What will you do when my father finishes with you?”
She glared at him. “That’s a terribly impertinent question.”
“I can’t think of anything more pertinent to a duke’s mistress.” He bowed and let himself out the door, smiling in a most infuriating way. “But please don’t let me disturb this happy little fantasy for you. Enjoy your waiting.”
“Horrible man,” she said to herself, once he was gone. The issue he had raised was one she was delicately avoiding, even in her own thoughts. It was good to prepare for misfortunes, but worrying about them too much might bring them down on her head earlier. Best not to think about it for the time being.
She went back to her Sahasran pornography, and when Lukas finally came to visit her, two hours later, she didn’t even mention that Halvor had visited her. It wasn’t important. She showed Lukas a few of the engravings that she was most curious about, and he was delighted with her selections.
“I’m surprised I haven’t done this first one for you yet,” he said. “Women used to tell me I was particularly skilled at this.” Then he cast the book aside, pushed her back on the bed, and sank his head down between her thighs.
He turned out to be very skilled, indeed. She got on her knees and reciprocated for him, and he told her she was “Better at that than a girl your age has any right to be.”
She had been hoping they might continue on in that way all night, working their way through the book, but no sooner had he finished, than he announced that he really needed to get back to his guests. “I’ve got some envoys from Annenstruk and Odeland here,” he said, “and if I get them drunk enough, I might be able to get some mercenaries cheap for the spring campaign.”
“If it’s for the spring campaign,” she said, smiling, “then don’t let me detain you.”
He kissed her and left the room laughing. She sat with the book of engravings a bit longer, flipping idly through the pages. Suddenly she didn’t want to be upstairs by herself anymore. She washed her face, fixed her dress, and rushed back down to the party. But when she got to the bottom of the stairs, she felt an almost physical revulsion at the thought of seeing her admirers. She went down to the old private dock, where small groups of young people were talking and flirting together, and sat on the marble steps, listening to the party and the revelry in the city beyond.
A figure in a black cape and a flowing red dress detached herself from one of the groups of young partygoers and came over. In the torchlight, Molly recognized Vittoria, the strange Immani-born girl who had befriended her and then told her fortune from her palm.
“I haven’t seen you around,” said Molly, patting the step beside her.
Vittoria sat down. “Oh, I’ve been here and there. I don’t get a chance to go to these parties very often. I think I go to them about as often as I can stand them, to be honest.”
“It’s odd. When we were off on campaign, I would have loved to be back here in a private suite. But now I’m wishing for spring.”
“So you can be alone with the duke again?”
“Yes. I don’t know why I can’t be happy with what I’ve got.”
“Almost no one ever is,” said Vittoria. She put a hand on Molly’s shoulder. “Listen, why don’t we go to a tavern or something? Just for an hour or two. You can tell me what you’ve been up to since I saw you last. I’ll pay for the drinks. And I might even tell your fortune again.”
Molly chuckled. “That’s a hard offer to refuse.” Perhaps it was because Vittoria seemed genuinely friendly. Or maybe it was because, unlike so many other people at the palace, Vittoria hadn’t been around enough to seem tiresome yet. “Let’s go.” Molly stood and pulled out her money purse. “But Lukas gives me an allowance now. So I’ll buy the drinks.”