Page 56 of The Exile's Curse

Silya looked amused for a fleeting moment. "And how shall you know the truth? Using your power?"

The power the Andalyssians thought unbalanced. "The power granted to me by the grace of the goddess. Yes, where necessary. But it will not be necessary for everyone. And I will seek permission before using it. I do not use my power on the unwilling or the unwary other than when it is required for a matter of law. This is not yet a matter of law." A reminder that it could become so should they defy the emperor.

The sejerin looked no happier with him than Uli. He was winning no friends around this table. Not that he had expected to.

King Mikvel cleared his throat. "Thank you, Major. I am happy with your approach. I am eager for this matter to be settled." His voice was calm, steel behind the words.

He cast a look at Uli Elannon that was not entirely happy. He might be young, but it seemed House Elannon were underestimating their king if they thought he was simply going to roll over and do their bidding. Or let them take his throne.

"Andrej, you will assist Major de Roche in his discussions. Starting now."

Chloe didn’t get the chance to speak to the colonel before the evening's functions began. Honore had been determined to make up for lost time after the tscherov, and the afternoon had turned into a blur of meetings and appointments where she sat in the back and took notes.

After the meetings, there had only just been time to change for dinner. A more formal affair tonight, followed by a ball. As there would be every night between now and the wedding. Once Mikvel and Katiya were safely married, there would be some breathing space to focus on actual diplomacy. There would be fewer wedding-related demands on their time. Only in the final week did the schedule look crowded again in the lead-up to the king and Katiya making their wedding marks final and Katiya's coronation.

Provided she didn't change her mind—unlikely, if Chloe was any judge—or that things didn't go completely sideways with Lucien's investigation of House Elannon.

At dinner, Chloe wasn't seated with Honore. She was at a table in the second row with Gilles Theisse. Honore and Lucien, thankfully, were seated in the first row again, as a reflection of their rank. Honore wore a silver-blue gown that matched her eyes. She and Lucien could almost be Andalyssians.

But not quite. Lucien's evening jacket was black, his shirt and cravat snow white. He looked like night fallen amongst the rainbow Andalyssians. The choice of plain black and white was severe even for Illvyan evening wear, where the men sometimes wore colors. The only way he could have stood out more would be to turn up in his uniform. Besides his eyes, the only spot of color he sported was the bloodred ruby in the heavy gold Castaigne signet ring he wore on his right hand. Lucien had never been showy in his choice of clothes, but his outfit tonight seemed to be intentional. A reminder of his profession rather than his rank?

None of her business, and she had been watching him a shade too long as it was. She turned her attention back to her dinner companions, taking each mouthful with care to avoid spilling anything on her gown. The dress was drawing enough attention without her adding to it through clumsiness.

Left to her own taste, she wouldn't have chosen this precise shade of scarlet. It was a tad too bright with her red-and-black-streaked hair and not designed to blend into the background. But it had been one of Imogene's gowns that Helene Designy had deemed to be easy to alter quickly, and that had been the end of that discussion. It was lovely, made from a heavy silk and beaded with a spray of flowers that clustered the bodice and spilled down the skirt in a glittering fall. It wasn't, however, very Andalyssian.

Allita had done her best with Chloe’s hair, working a number of fine braids into it that were going to be a nightmare to undo on her own. It was a nod to Andalyssian fashion, but the braids emphasized the differing shades of her hair, drawing attention to her magic.

Imogene had lent her jewels, but she had restrained herself to only a pair of ruby earrings. The dress was enough. The balls were only going to be more and more elaborate as they approached the wedding, and then there was the wedding itself and the coronation. She needed to keep something back for those.

Dinner passed quickly. It was easier to follow the conversations, her confidence with Andalyssian growing, but she still had to pay attention to make sure she didn't miss anything. Or offend anybody. But it was exhilarating to know she was starting to be able to hold her own, and she was smiling by the time Captain Theisse offered her his arm after dinner to accompany her to the ballroom.

She was tempted to tell him about Lady Cela, but it was too risky when they were surrounded by Andalyssians who understood Illvyan perfectly well. She hadn't yet seen Cela tonight, but it seemed unlikely she wouldn't be at the ball if she had been invited to the tscherov. Maybe she could get Irina to make an introduction, then see if a conversation with the woman might ease her doubts.

The ballroom was almost as big as the King's Hearth, though decorated in a more intimate manner. There were, inevitably, tapestries, but here they were narrow columns of white and silver velvets hanging floor to ceiling between expanses of white plastered walls studded with small jeweled tiles that dazzled the eye. It wasn't as large as Aristides’s ballroom, and it lacked the mirrors that made the emperor's room appear almost infinite, but it was breathtaking in its own way.

A reminder that Andalyssia's riches came from the mines beneath their feet. Though she didn't like thinking too closely about the mines. The knowledge that parts of the mountain supporting the vast palace were hollowed out into tunnels and chambers far beneath her feet made her feel odd. Like she was back on a ship or the navire, unsure of her footing.

The dance floor was pale wood inlaid with silver, the patterns more sinuous than those on the walls. It would have been helpful if they'd formed the patterns of the Andalyssian set dances. She’d studied them on the journey, and they had seemed straightforward, but there hadn't been much room to practice on board the navire. As much as she liked to dance, the added complication of worrying about tripping over her feet trying to get the steps right while making appropriate conversation in Andalyssian seemed likely to turn it into a chore rather than a pleasure.

The rest of the room was furnished with low padded couches and benches and chairs, all covered with white velvet. Silver-legged glass tables sat between them, holding candles in glass lanterns. The flickering candlelight reflected and danced over the room, and the air carried the now familiar incense scent of the court. Above the room, vast chandeliers glittered, but the points of light within them were earth lamps, too steady to be flames.

The court congregated in small groups. She didn’t see any pattern to the gatherings. No clear-cut territorial divide between the houses. Some groups wore predominantly the colors of one house, but others were more mixed, and she didn’t yet know enough about the various alliances between the sixteen noble houses, let alone the lesser ones, to understand the politics at play.

The section of the room beyond the dance floor was the domain of the royal family, the furniture more lavish, the servants more plentiful. Katiya, who wore a pink dress that seemed a well-judged way to avoid wearing either Surayov or Uleniska colors, stood with Mikvel and some of the other Surayovs. Irina stood with her sister, wearing a gown the color of sunlit seas. Their parents and several others in Uleniska blue and green rounded out the party.

The clothing was extravagant and less severe than the court robes. House embroidery edged hems, necklines, jacket cuffs, and lapels for the men, and most of the court still favored their house colors, but there was more variation in the ball gowns than in the formal robes they'd worn to the ceremony at the King’s Hearth. The women's dresses had long sleeves and modest necklines. Helene hadn’t been able to do much to raise the neckline of some of Chloe’s gowns, but she’d added deep ruffled bands of beaded lace that reached her wrists to the formerly elbow-length sleeves. They would fall back when she danced but gave the illusion of length otherwise.

Chloe and Gilles joined Honore and Lucien, who were talking with a man in the night blue and red of House Petrov. House Petrov was deeply involved in the mines and had representatives at several of the earlier meetings, but Chloe didn't recognize him.

Before Honore could make introductions, the king led Katiya toward the dance floor and nearly everybody else hurried to form sets around them, leaving the Illvyans with no choice but to join in.

"How good is your memory?" Gilles asked as he led her to one of the sets forming farther down the room from the king. Good strategy for avoiding too much attention.

"As good as it's going to get for now. But I've always had a good memory for dances. How about you?"

"Your toes are safe with me, Lieutenant," he said.

"Let's hope so. I only brought three pairs of dancing slippers, and they have to last the month."

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