Page 63 of The Exile's Curse

"I left the ballroom to use the retiring room,” she said. “A man approached me as I returned. He talked about Charl. About what he did. He seemed...sympathetic to his cause."

She had seen Lucien in official mode before. Not just during the mission but at various times at court back in Lumia. But she'd never seen him turn into a Truth Seeker before her eyes. His shoulders straightened, his face turned cool and his eyes intent. A hunter ready to lock in on prey. She didn’t want to be the one he pursued with that look on his face.

"Who was it?" he demanded.

"I don't know," she said. "He didn't introduce himself. He wore dark blue. No house colors I recognized. I asked one of the Andalyssians whether any of the vassal houses wear that color, but he said no." She tried to recall the man’s face, but the details had faded. "He was ordinary, I guess."

Lucien frowned. "You were always good with faces."

"I've met too many blond-haired green-eyed men in the last few days for one to stand out."

"Could he have been wearing an illusion?"

Damn. She hadn't thought of that. Hadn't even checked whether he was using magic, too startled by the direction their conversation had taken. "I don't know," she said, inwardly cursing her lack of attention.

"Tell me what he said."

She recounted the conversation. "I wanted to leave him with the impression that I was open to further discussions. I didn't want to scare him off."

He smiled approvingly. Though there was a sharpness to it. Anticipating the pleasure of a successful catch. "Good. That was smart."

She let out a breath. He believed her. Trusted her. She had, she realized, been half afraid that he wouldn't. "He said he would contact me again."

His smile vanished. "How?"

"That much he didn't say. And he left before I could ask. I was going to ask his name, but I thought it might alarm him."

"Likely. Did anyone else see him?"

She shook her head. "No. Though...."

"Though, what?"

"One of the court ladies was in the retiring room. She asked me to wait for her. She was in there a long time. Long enough for him to appear, talk to me, and leave before she came out. It felt...a little convenient? But perhaps I’m jumping at shadows."

Lucien frowned again. "Who was she?"

"Lady Cela. I met her at the tscherov this afternoon." It felt far longer ago than that.

"Anything unusual about her that you noticed then?"

"Only that she used orange and green in the tscherov she wove for Katiya."

"Wove? I thought the tscherov was a rite?"

"It is. But it involves the ladies weaving...well, bracelets braided from thread is the simplest explanation. There are different colors and patterns. It's all connected to houses and families and balance, of course. Each one slightly different."

"And Lady Cela's had Elannon colors?"

He hadn't missed the connection. "Yes. Irina said her grandmother was an Elannon. She's Sejerin Silya's cousin."

"Silyais Elannon?"

"Perhaps. It would depend on who her mother married." She rubbed her forehead. Genealogy had never been her favorite part of court life, and she hadn't been studying Andalyssia long enough to even begin to scratch the surface of how their houses connected. "But Cela can't be considered to belong to House Elannon, can she? Katiya wouldn't be friendly with her if that were the case."

"The disgraced part of the house is trying to redeem itself. Being nice to the future queen would be part of that. Not to mention Mikvel needs to keep both sides happy for now."

"The tscherov is supposed to be for closer friends and family though. I got the feeling Katiya got to choose who was there. Sejerin Silya wasn't there. Just Sejerin Neni."

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