Page 162 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Chapter 10

"What do you think is keeping him?" Chloe whispered to Imogene as they surveyed the ballroom at the palace.

The assembled nobles were mingling and talking, waiting for the emperor to make his appearance and formally open the ball. But he was late now, late enough that the buzz of conversation had turned from congenial to a more speculative note.

Imogene twitched her skirt out of the path of a young aristo walking past her with no regard for anyone in his immediate surroundings. "Your guess is as good as mine at this point." She tried to sound as though she didn't much care. But as Jean-Paul had not yet appeared either—making her think, given his visit to Major Perrine, that perhaps his role tonight was more than just courtier—shedidcare.

She'd been looking forward to tonight. Frankly, between the nerves as she tried to determine for sure that she wanted to bond a sanctii and the anticipation of seeing Jean-Paul again and discovering what may happen if they were not interrupted once more, there had been enough adrenaline running through her system for the last three days that she needed to do something to burn it off and clear her head. She was rather hoping the something would be Jean-Paul, but that did require the man to actually appear.

But before she could grow too anxious, the buzz of voices quieted and the ball-goers began to turn, as though pulled by a hidden thread, toward the far end of the ballroom where the emperor held court. Imogene and Chloe, being relatively unimportant, were nowhere close enough to see much more than the backs of other people's heads. Chloe, who was taller, stood on her tiptoes, craning her neck in a way that was not strictly ladylike.

"Can you see anything?" Imogene asked.

"The emperor, I think," Chloe said. "And the empress." She teetered for a moment, and Imogene put a hand on her arm to steady her. "Major Perrine. And...I'm not sure. Is there a delegation expected? There are several people wearing long robes. All embroidered and pleated. I don't recognize the style."

Imogene stiffened. Long pleated and embroidered robes? That sounded painfully familiar. "What colors?" she hissed.

"Shades of green and a very peculiar orange. I'm not sure it's the best combination." Chloe glanced sideways at Imogene with a smirk. "Your mother's clothier would not approve."

Imogene smoothed a hand down the skirt of her own crimson dress, trying to smooth away the nerves suddenly gripping her stomach. Orange and green embroidered robes. Court robes fromAndalyssia. Their particular style of intricate geometric embroidery was burned deep in her brain. Beautiful, in its own way, but unfortunately also too wrapped up in the memories of her disastrous first assignment. All those disapproving pale-skinned faces glaring above the robes as the senior of the king's Ashmeiser—had made it clear that the Illvyan diplomats would be best to return to Lumia. Technically he hadn't had the authority to expel Illvyans, but at that stage even Captain Berain had realized the mission was an unredeemable failure and there had been little point remaining.

"Andalyssians," she said, the words half breath.

Chloe's head snapped back round. "Andalyssians? Wasn't that where—"

"Yes," Imogene said, stomach churning with the sudden need to leave. "I'm not sure I should be here. If the emperor is hosting a delegation from Andalyssia, he must be trying to mend fences. I doubt he wants anyone from that mission present."

She tried to keep a scowl off her face. Goddess curse it. Had Jean-Paul known about this when he'd invited her? And if he had, did that mean he didn't know she was one of the junior officers on that mission? Granted, he was in the cavalry, not the mages, but the army was the army, and the speed at which gossip and bad news traveled was faster than anything other than perhaps a sanctii. She'd suffered through weeks of pitying looks anywhere she'd gone within the barracks before she'd been sent off to the first of her courier jobs to start earning back some trust. She'd gritted her teeth—after all, she had done nothing wrong on the mission—and kept her nose clean and lived it down. Or so she thought. But if any of the Andalyssians recognized her here tonight, goddess only knew how they might take it. "I should go."

"You can't leave now," Chloe hissed back. "That will only draw more attention."

She had a point. No one in the ballroom was moving, all eyes turned attentively toward the emperor. If Imogene tried to retreat now, it would cause a commotion. And possibly draw the focus of one of the Imperial Guard.

"Fine." She gritted her teeth and tried to look as though she was paying attention as the emperor began to speak. His voice, enhanced by magic, carried over the crowd. Imogene only half paid attention, her mind racing, trying to think of the fastest way to get out of the ballroom once the emperor finished his speech. Anxiety twisted with disappointment in her stomach. It seemed she and Jean-Paul would be thwarted again. Maybe that was just as well.

The Andalyssians’ presence was a sharp reminder that she couldn't afford any hint of scandal right now. And no matter how temporary a night in Jean-Paul's bed might seem, it would only take a slip of the tongue on his part or for someone to see them and put two and two together for the rumors to spread.

The emperor's words continued rolling over the crowd. The diplomat in Imogene translated the tone of polite phrases as conciliatory, but also a little impatient. The emperor wanted to get the relationship with Andalyssia back to stable ground, and quickly.

But even the analysis of the meaning beneath the message didn't distract her from her desire to leave. Nor did the emperor do anything that might have eased her concerns by naming the Andalyssians. That much at least would have told her if there was anyone amongst among them who might recognize her. She'd been very junior in the mission, but she'd spent time at the Andalyssian court and in the meetings that went along with any mission.

True, she'd always been seated in the rear of the room, bent over a sheaf of papers, taking notes, or running messages. They'd only been in the country two weeks before they'd been asked to leave. Long enough for her to have grown familiar with all the immediate members of the court they'd had dealings with in their talks, and quite a few more who'd been present at the social gatherings she'd attended.

Most Andalyssians were pale and blonde and green eyed. They had female mages, but the unusual kind of earth magic they practiced seemed to tint their hair more copper than the deep scarlet that streaked through Imogene's natural dark brown. She'd been noticeable at the Andalyssian court even when trying to fade into the background. And surely the Andalyssians would have sent experienced courtiers to Lumia. Exactly the sort most likely to remember her.

By the time the emperor finished and the court broke once more into conversation as the music began, she was desperate to leave. She took Chloe's hand and tugged her toward the nearest door.

"Is this really necessary?" Chloe protested, though she was well schooled enough to do so with a smile pasted on her face.

"I'm sorry," Imogene said. "I know you were looking forward to this." She didn't slow her pace.

"What about your mystery man?" Chloe said. "I thought you wanted to meet up with him?"

Chloe had somehow missed Jean-Paul's dance with Imogene at the first ball, being too caught up with her group of friends, and so had no idea who had secured their invitation for tonight. Imogene hadn't told her anything more than she'd met someone perhaps worthy of a dalliance. It had seemed safer. Chloe would only get overinvested if she realized who Jean-Paul was, and there was nothing to get invested in.

"I think the goddess is sending me a sign that he and I are perhaps not a good idea." Imogene tried to sound less disappointed than she felt. A large part of her body thrummed with annoyance and frustration, even though her brain so far had kept control and remembered the sensible reasons why she needed to leave the palace before she could cause any problems for the emperor.

Chloe made a dissatisfied noise that suggested she thought the goddess was a spoilsport, but she followed Imogene without further protest.

Until they pushed through one of the side doors near the rear of the room, made it about twelve feet down the corridor outside, and nearly barreled into Jean-Paul striding in the other direction.

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