Page 78 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

At once, Lady Priessa stepped down to the marble floor. Loth steeled himself and walked toward her.

The dance of thirty turns had once been taught in many courts. It had been outlawed in Inys by Jillian the Fifth, who had deemed it lewd, but later queens had been more lenient. Most courtiers learned it in one way or another.

Lady Priessa curtsied as the consort struck up a sprightly tune. Loth bowed to his partner before they both turned to face the Donmata and took hands.

At first his legs moved stiffly. Lady Priessa was light on her feet. He skipped in a circle about her, never letting his heels touch the floor.

She shadowed him. Hither and thither they pranced and sprang, side to side and face to face—then the music surged, and with one hand on the small of her back and the other on her waist, Loth raised his partner off the floor. Over and over he lifted her, until his arms ached and sweat welled on his face and nape.

He could hear Lady Priessa catching her breath. A coil of dark hair came loose as they spun around each other, slowing with each step, until at last they joined hands to face the Donmata Marosa again.

Something crunched between their palms. Loth dared not look at her as he took whatever she had slipped into his hand. The Donmata and her court applauded.

“You are tired, Lord Arteloth,” came the voice from the mask. “Was Lady Priessa too heavy for you?”

“I think the gowns in Yscalin weigh more than the ladies, Radiance,” Loth said, breathing hard.

“Oh, no, my lord. Itisthe ladies, the gentlemen, all. Our hearts are heavy with grief that the Nameless One has not yet returned to guide us.” The Donmata rose. “A long and peaceful night to you.” The helm tilted. “Unless there is anything you wish to ask me.”

Loth was painfully aware of the paper in his hand, but this was an opportunity.

“One thing, Radiance.” He cleared his throat. “There is another ambassador-in-residence at your court, who has served Queen Sabran here for many years. Wilstan Fynch, the Duke of Temperance. I was wondering where in the palace he lodges, so we might speak to him.”

No one moved or spoke.

“Ambassador Fynch,” the Donmata finally said. “Well, Lord Arteloth, you and I are both in the dark on that front. His Grace left several weeks ago, heading for Córvugar.”

“Córvugar,” Loth echoed. It was a port in the far south of Yscalin. “Why would he go there?”

“He said he had business elsewhere, the nature of which he did not disclose. I am surprised he did not write to Sabran to tell her.”

“I am also surprised, Your Radiance. In fact,” Loth said, “I find it difficult to believe.”

There was a brief silence as his implication settled over the throne room.

“I hope, Lord Arteloth,” the Donmata said, “that you are not accusing me of lying.”

The courtiers had pressed closer. Like hounds with the scent of blood. Kit gripped Loth by the shoulder, and he closed his eyes.

If they were ever to find out the truth, they had to survive this court, and to survive, they would have to play along with its rules.

“No, Your Radiance,” he said. “Of course not. Forgive me.”

Without speaking again, the Donmata Marosa glided out of the throne room with her ladies.

The courtiers began to murmur. Jaw clenched, Loth turned his back on the line of guards and strode through the doors, Kit hurrying at his heels.

“She could have had your tongue ripped out for that,” his friend muttered. “Saint, man, what possessed you to all but accuse a princess of lying in her own throne room?”

“I cannotstomachit, Kit. The blasphemy. The deceit. The barefaced contempt for Inys.”

“You can’t let them see that their taunting has worked. Your patron is the Knight of Fellowship. At least give these people the impression of that virtue.” Kit caught his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Arteloth,listento me. We are no use to Inys dead.”

Sweat was beading on his face, and his pulse was distinct in his neck. Loth had never seen him look this worried.

“The Knight of Courtesy is your patron, Kit.” Loth sighed. “Let us hope she will help me to mask my intentions.”

“Even with her help, it will not be easy.”

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