Tamas was several steps above, and looked as if he’d only just noticed her. His mind was probably off on some campaign in Gurla. He came down two steps and gave her a half bow. “Good evening, my lady.”
“Good evening, field marshal.” Petara looked up at him, batting long eyelashes, daring him not to start sweating. She knew what that look did to men. “How are you enjoying the party?”
“Very entertaining,” Tamas said, his voice deadpan. His eyes moved down her body, lingering at her hips, and then returned to her eyes. He wet his lips with his tongue.
It was the tell Petara was waiting for. I have you, she thought to herself. “They can get repetitive, can’t they?” she asked casually, affecting a stifled yawn.
“A bit.”
She let her eyes go to the glass in his hand. Mild cider. The field marshal was a teetotaler. Hadn’t drank in years. It annoyed her. Men plied with a little drink were so much easier to control. But, she reassured herself, this wouldn’t be a problem. Tamas never let sobriety prevent him from enjoying the company of beautiful women. She said, “The dancing, the champagne. We’ve seen it all before, you and I.”
Tamas half turned to look out over the ballroom. He seemed disinterested in the dancing below. He gave her body a sidelong glance. “Many times,” he said.
She searched his eyes, looking for something in them. Any kind of warning that he knew what she was about. Not the bit about sleeping together. He knew exactly what type of woman she was, just as she knew what kind of man he was. Winding up in each other’s arms was almost a given.
No, she searched for a flicker of hate. Of disgust. Anything to warn her away. He wouldn’t try anything, of course. Not in Skyline Palace. No one would be so brazen with the royal guard no more than a shout away at all times.
There was nothing in Tamas’s eyes but his steely calm. It was unnerving in its own way, but it meant that she had nothing to fear from him.
Petara felt a chill move down her spine. He had no idea about what she’d done to implicate his late wife! How exciting!
She raised her eyebrows, turning away from her view of the dance hall as if a thought had just occurred to her. “You know that I’m an amateur naturalist, don’t you?” she asked. The next part of this little game. It was never as simple as, Would you like to go upstairs with me? There always had to be some kind of verbal dance that would only lead to the inevitable. Tamas’s recent return from Gurla had provided just such an excuse.
Tamas sipped from his glass. “I’d heard rumors to that effect.”
Petara let herself sway a little closer to Tamas, brushing his arm with her own. “And I’ve heard rumors that you brought a number of rather stunning samples back from your latest campaign in Gurla.”
“I did.”
“Tell me, what did you bring back?”
He glanced down at his cup. “Several dozen baloa tree saplings, for one. Only a few survived the journey. Remarkable tree. Grows inches every day. Can get to be enormous with the right care. I fear they’ll all die in our environment. Too cold.”
“Trees?” Petara asked, feigning a yawn but giving him a hint of a smile. “Is that it?”
“Of course not. Several carcasses on ice for dissection at Adopest University. Badgers, goats, big cats. Half a dozen types of rodents. All sorts of interesting curiosities from that side of the globe.” Tamas downed the last of his cider then looked none-too-subtly down the front of Petara’s dress.
She shifted to give him a better view. “Nothing alive?”
“I did, actually. A rather rare snake. The green-eyed viper.”
Petara’s informants had told her this was the case, but she faked a look of astonishment. In the world of Adran naturalists – and it was a popular hobby among the nobility – a green-eyed viper was about the rarest Gurlish animal brought to this part of the world. It was probably worth two hundred thousand krana. She took him by the arm, affecting the besotted eccentric. “I must have it!”
Tamas blinked at her. “You must? I wish it was mine to give. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not yours?”
“Well, it is mine. But it’s meant as a gift. Everything I’ve brought back is going straight to Prime Lektor at the University.”
“Prime Lektor? That old goat?”
Tamas stiffened. “Prime is a friend of mine.”
He was friends with the vice-chancellor of the University? She’d not actually known that. Prime Lektor was little more than a trumped-up teacher but he had some influence. Petara could use that. “I’m sorry,” Petara said, pouting. “I didn’t mean it.” She pressed herself a little closer.
“No, no,” Tamas said, body relaxing. He discarded his cup on a servant’s tray and broke his stony facade for the first time with a small smile. “He is an old goat. But really, I can’t part with the snake. Prime wants it so badly.”
“I’m sure the university can get another. What have they paid you for it? I’ll pay twice as much!”
“My lady, it’s not about the money.”
Petara leaned forward. “Then what’s it about?”
“Well, really...” Tamas trailed off. His eyes dipped to her cleavage again. “Really, it’s just a matter of...” He paused.
“Let me examine it at least,” Petara said. She had to stifle a grin. Seeing Field Marshal Tamas stutter – if she got no where else tonight that thought alone would keep her warm. How delicious! She continued, “You know how rare they are. I’ll be the envy of every naturalist in Adro.”
“It’s a very dangerous animal,” Tamas said, finding his tongue again.
“Come now, I won’t touch it. Unless you want me to.” Petara resisted an eye-roll.
Tamas looked around the room as if considering her request. She could see the color in his cheeks. The stupid innuendo had its desired effect. “I suppose you could come and call tomorrow night,” Tamas said.
Frederik was supposed to come to her home tomorrow night. Petara could cancel that appointment, or... “It must be this evening.”
“It’s already quite late.”
“Have a servant fetch the creature. Carry it here in a box. We’ll take it upstairs to one of the spare rooms where it won’t endanger any of the guests. Really, you must.”
Tamas tilted his head. His eyes had stopped wandering and he examined her curiously, as if wondering whether she was still flirting or really was this eccentric. “Are you absolutely certain?”
“Of course!”
They sent a servant running to Tamas’s home and got more drinks, chatting quietly. Within twenty minutes Petara had strung her arm through Tamas’s. He made no effort to extricate himself. Within forty minutes he’d finally handed his damn hat off to a servant and had one hand in the small of Petara’s back, fingers brushing her ass gently from time to time.
They chatted with Deliv dignitaries and made small talk with some of Petara’s merchant friends. Tamas even talked business with a pair of his generals and Petara listened in, fascinated. Someone else might find this kind of thing boring but not her. She was born for strategy and logistics. In a few years this could be her life and the mere thought made her dizzy. She and Tamas, arm and arm, could conquer the world.
A few hours passed before the servant returned. He carried a wooden crate just big enough for a pair of boots. Petara could feel the sparkling wine do its work, her footing not entirely secure, and Tamas’s own cheeks were flushed from the heat of the ballroom. The servant led them upstairs, far down one of the many side corridors, and into a cool room where he lit the candles and the fire before leaving them alone with the crate.