Page 60 of The Exile's Curse

"You're a good sister," Chloe said. "She’ll need time to adjust. Being a queen is a lot of work as far as I can tell."

Irina laughed. "True."

They talked a while longer, and then Chloe rejoined the dances as they reverted to Andalyssian sets, mindful of why she was there. The hours passed quickly, and her feet were sore by the time the dancing ended.

She slipped away to the retiring room to ensure she didn't look too disheveled after the dancing. A few of the women had asked about her dress, seeming friendly, but there had been some disapproving looks, too. Aware she was under scrutiny, she had only had two glasses of campenois and avoided the kafiet, but that wouldn't stop people gossiping if her hair was falling down. But the damage looked minimal.

The retiring room was empty, so she took her time, savoring the peace as she smoothed flyaway hairs and inspected her dress for wrinkles or stains. The crowd in the ballroom had thinned out, but Honore had said they were to stay until Katiya and Mikvel departed. So far, those two had showed no signs of wanting to leave.

In Katiya’s place, Chloe would be trying for as much rest as possible. But Katiya was young and in love, and at her age, Chloe had danced the night away without much thought of the morning.

The solitude was a relief after hours in the crowded ballroom, and she sniffed the bottles of scented toilet waters set on the counters as an excuse to delay her return. Most of the scents were spicy and rich, but there were a few lighter ones, including one that smelled like the mint of the kafiet combined with the freshness of a lemon. It smelled of warmth and light and sunny days in her parents' garden. A wave of homesickness caught her throat.

She'd wanted so badly to get away from Lumia. Now, suddenly, all she wanted was to be home again. Foolish. Deephilm was fascinating in its way, even though the newness of it all and the unrelenting schedule were overwhelming.

This was what she wanted. This was where she could do some good. If they could secure the mining agreements and determine if House Elannon were to be trusted, she would have served the empire. Done something useful.

One small step to right the wrongs of the past.

That thought made her freeze, the perfume's golden stopper in her hand.

Righting wrongs? Was that what was she doing? Which wrongs? Charl's treason? Her own wasted years?

She wasn't sure. Wasn't sure why the thought had even entered her mind other than she was tired, and in need of tea and sleep to offset the campenois and dancing and diplomacy.

It had a ring of truth to it though.

But getting to the bottom of half-buried motivations was hardly something she could do in a night. Not unless she wanted to ask Lucien to help her. To tell her if she was speaking the truth to herself. Which she most assuredly did not.

She put the crystal flask back on the table after one last sniff, patted her hair into place once more, and straightened her shoulders. Time enough for thinking later. Tonight she still had work to do.

But she’d barely stepped through the door when she almost bumped into Lady Cela coming in the other direction. Which led to an awkward flurry of apologies and sidestepping.

Lady Cela smiled at her, the expression too full of teeth. "Lady de Montesse, isn't it? Are you enjoying the ball?"

"I am," Chloe said. "His Majesty knows how to throw a good party."

"That he does," Lady Cela agreed. "But I'm sure it's nothing as grand as a ball back in Lumia."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Chloe demurred.

"Perhaps...." Lady Cela hesitated. "Would you wait for me? We could walk back to the ballroom together. I'd love to hear more of your country."

"Of course," Chloe said. She’d wanted an opportunity to get a better sense of the woman. No wasting this chance. Hopefully she’d find that her fears were unfounded. "I’ll wait for you here."

Cela smiled her thanks and slipped into the retiring room.

Chloe, not wanting to loiter outside the door and risk a repeat of the near collision, moved a little way down the corridor to study the tapestry that covered a large part of the nearest stretch of wall. A forest scene, all tall tree trunks with angled branches and leaves in half a hundred shades of green. Beneath them grew plants that owed, she thought, more to the imagination of the embroiderer than reality. But amongst them were rabbits and foxes and deer. Birds perched in some of the branches, bright feathered and whimsical. She spotted two black birds she decided must be crows high in the branches of the tree closest to the center of the tapestry and smiled, stepping closer to study the detail.

Then jumped as a voice from behind her said, "Lady de Montesse?"

She whirled, one hand flying to her chest.

Chapter 19

The man who’d addressed her was medium height and older than Chloe. His hair was darker than most of the men she'd met in the palace, a sandy color she would have expected in Illvya, not Deephilm, and his eyes a middling green. His evening clothes were various shades of dark blue, including the embroidery, and she couldn’t immediately recall any house that wore only blue. But at least it wasn't Elannon orange and green.

He flashed a nervous smile. "Forgive me, my lady. I didn't mean to startle you."

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