Vrell flushed. How could she have been so careless?
"My apologies," Sir Gavin said in a low voice. "Probably not the best idea."
Vrell pushed the near miss away with a smile as they made their way downstairs. "How long will we remain here?"
"Just tonight. Lord Eli invited us for longer, but I'll not tarry. Not here."
Vrell agreed. She did not trust Lord Eli either.
Sir Gavin stopped on the landing halfway down where the staircase furled out into the pillared foyer like a river into the sea. Hearty smells drifted on the air. Vrell's stomach growled, then tightened when she saw Achan.
He stood with Lord Eli at the entrance to the great hall, looking every bit like a rich, exotic prince. He wore a black leather doublet over a royal blue tunic embroidered with silver thread. The sleeves dangled past his fingertips. Silver buckles cinched black trousers below his knees where they met shiny black boots. His black hair slicked back into a braided tail, held in place by a sparkling jewel. No bandage covered his scruffy cheeks, but his facial hair had been trimmed into the start of a beard that would eventually hide his scars.
But nothing could hide his sour expression. Such chagrin could be due to the fact he had been dressed like Esek, yet Vrell bet Lady Jaira Hamartano's presence was the likely cause. She stood with her mother, sister, and Lord Eli's wife at the bottom of the stairs.
Vrell paused beside Sir Gavin and frowned. Jaira's blue dress suspiciously matched Achan's ensemble. The gown clung to her every curve as if painted onto her skin. It had a wide, revealing neckline with little cap sleeves that dripped black beads down her slender arms. She wore black satin gloves to her elbows. The slender skirt fanned out from her knees like the tail of a fish. A silver chain draped around her narrow waist with a matching blue reticule attached.
Jaira's dozens of fine black braids were piled atop her head like an ebony crown, baring her long neck and shoulders. Shiny obsidian teardrops dangled from her ears. A third larger stone hung from a thin cord around her neck and plunged toward her low neckline. Her olive skin looked bronze under the flickering candelabras and sparkled as if she had bathed in mineral dust. Paint reddened her cheeks, outlined her eyes in black, and dusted each eyelid blue.
Vrell had never seen such repulsive beauty. She could hardly bear to see Jaira standing with Achan in such a way. Lord Eli had plotted these matching ensembles, she had no doubt. Vrell took a deep breath and tried to create a neutral expression, but a sudden thought stole her breath. She had been dressed to match Achan as well.
As his squire.
She turned her gaze upon the vestibule. Lord Eli left Achan to go to his wife, Lady Katiolakan. They wore matching ensembles of gold and green. He led his wife to Achan. Lady Mandzee and her mother walked behind them, themselves clothed beautifully. Appropriately. Mandzee wore violet and her mother wore peach. Neither was dressed as bait. Did these people think Achan a womanizing fool like Esek? Did they hope he might fall for Jaira's display?
Switch places with me, Sparrow? You be prince and I'll be squire.
Vrell jumped. Achan had just bloodvoiced her. Without knocking. Her shields were up, and still she sensed the open connection between them. How was he doing that? It had to be his power. She could not accomplish such a feat.
Sir Gavin inhaled through his nose. "Something smells sour," he said with a lilt to his voice. "What do you think of the colors blue and black tonight?"
Vrell wrinkled her nose. "They look like a bruise."
Sir Gavin laughed. "That they do, my lady. I quite agree."
*
Why didn't Sparrow answer? Perhaps Achan hadn't messaged correctly. He did forget to knock first, and he hadn't concentrated hard. Yet he'd managed to keep his connection open to Sir Caleb most the afternoon as Sir Caleb had groomed him. He had thought the same process might work for Sparrow. Apparently not.
Achan would have done anything to stand on the staircase with Sir Gavin and Sparrow. He hadn't moved since the women had entered. He wished everyone would pass him by. He made eye contact with Jaira when Lord Eli had brought the ladies over, but he didn't dare look in her direction again. Never had he seen a woman dressed so brazenly. He cursed his eyes for wanting to look back.
Sir Caleb, Sir Gavin, and Inko had been given matching white tunics with leather vests and brown trousers. Inko and Sir Caleb hadn't shaved. Getting started on their beards for Tsaftown, Achan supposed. He couldn't wait to be there.
Lord Eli led his wife before Achan and bowed low. "Your Highness, may I present my wife, Lady Katiolakan?" He held out his wife's hand as if passing her over for Achan to catch. She was pretty and plump with grey skin and sleek black hair. Achan lifted his hand instinctively, then lowered it. What did they expect him to do?
Take her hand and kiss it, Your Majesty, Sir Caleb said. Have you never seen such a greeting?
Kiss it?
You're the future king of Er'Rets and must act with dignity and respect in formal gatherings.
Hoping his expression was dignified, Achan reached out. His arm seemed to belong to someone else. He took Lady Katiolakan's dainty, gold-gloved hand and stared at it.
Try to look as if you know what you're doing, Your Highness, Sir Caleb said. Say something witty and kind, then softly kiss her hand and let go. You're not marrying her. It's not meant to be heartfelt.
Achan forced yet another smile from his lips. The act caused his freshly wounded cheek to throb. "It's an honor, my lady." He pressed his lips to the gold silk glove then released it.
Pig snout, he wanted to leave.
Lady Katiolikan rewarded his actions with a screeching giggle that took Achan back to the miserable days spent walking in Esek's procession. "The joy is being mine, Your Highness. I am being appalled to be discovering this treachery in Sitna. My heart is going out to all you have been suffering. The gods will be demanding retribution, I am being certain."
How should a prince respond to such? "Aye, it was an outrage, my lady."
Good. But next time say "yes" not "aye." You sound like a soldier.
Achan clenched his teeth. Why is this evening necessary?
Because we need supplies if we're to make it to Tsaftown.
Tsaftown. Yes. Achan would focus on Tsaftown. He'd play this role for a chance to see Lady Tara again. A lady with charm. And obvious virtue.
Lord Eli gestured toward the other women. "May I also present to Your Highness my special guests from Jaelport. Queen Torrezia Hamartano and her daughters, Princess Mandzee and Princess Jaira."
Achan couldn't help his bulging eyes. Princess of what?
Cela Duchy. Yes, I know the Hamartano women are vile creatures, but you must not sink to their standards. Dignity and respect, if you will.
The ladies each curtsied. Thankfully, none offered her hand. Achan bowed with rigid formality without making eye contact. "I'm honored."
Jaira surged forward and fell to her knees, seizing the legs of Achan's trousers. "My lord prince, I beg your forgiveness for my serpent tongue. The words I spoke when last we met were those of a spoiled child. I promise you, I have grown in wisdom and grace since then, and I pray you do not hold my behavior in Sitna against me."