The Hero Strikes Back (32 page)

We were led through a series of corridors and then into a long narrow room which, I presumed, was the ballroom. Thousands of candles, a good half dozen chandeliers, and yellow walls. All very bright, but not in a warm, comfortable way. It felt . . . prickly.

Which made no sense at all.

There weren't as many people in the ballroom as I'd expected. I'd heard of aristocratic parties where one could barely move across the room, it was so packed. And for a party for the Crown Prince, I would have expected huge crowds. But if there were more than a few dozen people there that night I would be surprised to hear it. And in the large room the gathering was looking particularly scanty. Was that normal?

There were pairs of guards standing at each doorway and at each window. Stoic in their master's livery, their faces nearly covered in odd black helmets, they certainly drained any festive feeling out of the air. Perhaps such precautions were necessary, given the attendance of the Prince, but I couldn't imagine anyone being able to relax and enjoy themselves with those black helmets scowling from every angle.

Of course, relaxation and enjoyment weren't what the party was about. The party was about power plays and prestige and showing off and shoring up, and a bunch of other High Lander priorities I would never understand. Why was I there?

At least it was easy to see everyone. Like Karish's mother, standing near the wall with two other extremely stiff women, holding what I was sure was a scintillating conversation about other people's lack of money and morals while scanning the room for someone interesting to molest. I saw the Dowager notice her son, but her face didn't reveal any emotional reaction to his presence. Karish's attention was directed towards Crown Prince Gifford, who was seated in a huge wooden carved chair that might as well have been a throne. To his right sat Lord Yellows. To his left was his third wife, Princess Jane. Their chairs were on a wooden dais, raising them above us mere mortals.

“Source Karish and Shield Mallorough, Your Highness,” the servant announced. A few people turned their heads to look at us.

Karish bowed and I curtseyed.

“Please approach us,” the Prince said.

I didn't like his voice. It was a rather high, thin tenor. I doubted he could sing.

I could feel everyone's attention on us as we stepped up closer to the dais and bowed again.

“How are you this fine day, Source Karish?” the Prince asked.

Fine? It was raining. Cold biting rain that wasn't far from sleet.

“Quite well, thank you, Your Highness.”

“High Scape has been experiencing some difficulties this summer,” the Prince commented.

“Aye, Your Highness.”

“We must admit to some surprise that you have not used your special talents to rectify the situation.”

Oh damn. As discreet as an elephant. I held down a gasp and wondered if I could glance around without looking like I was glancing around. It felt like there was no one else close enough to hear what the Prince was saying, but I would have liked to make sure by looking at their faces.

On the other hand, Princess Jane and Lord Yellows were hearing every word and didn't appear surprised. Was that because they already knew something, or were they just wearing their High Landed masks?

And what was with that royal “we”? That was a privilege reserved for his mother, the Empress.

I couldn't feel any reaction at all from Karish. “I fear the weather is beyond my abilities, Your Highness,” he said calmly.

“Ah. Inconvenient, that.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Karish said because, I supposed, he had to say something.

“But, fortunately, such concerns will soon be beneath you.”

Here it came. I hadn't expected it to happen out in the open, where others might overhear us. Maybe the Prince didn't care, but I found it odd, since, after all, Karish's alleged pursuit of his title and any assistance the Prince might give him in said pursuit were illegal.

“Your Highness?” said Karish, sounding uncertain.

“Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Westsea, has made us aware of your difficulties. We assure you we will address this.”

Damn damn damn.

“I fear I don't understand, Your Highness.” Karish gave the impression that he was narrowly avoiding stuttering. I was impressed.

The Prince looked irritated. I suspected he'd already spent more time talking to Karish than he'd originally planned. “Come come, my man. You are in no danger. You seek the return of the title you so foolishly abjured.”

Again, no reaction from Princess Jane nor Lord Yellows. I found it disturbing. Just who was discussing what about Karish's life?

Karish, however, appeared stunned. “Your Highness,” he said after clearing his throat. “I can't imagine—I had no idea . . .” He pulled in a deep breath, as though giving himself time to gather scattered wits. “Your Highness, my cousin, the Lady Fiona of Centerfield, has delivered the code to our family solicitor and has taken the title. She is now the Duchess of Westsea.”

The Prince's eyes narrowed.

Karish bowed again, more deeply than before. “Please, Your Majesty—”

I glanced at him. Was that mistake of title intentional?

“My most humble apologies. Please forgive my mother. I cannot imagine how she came to be so egregiously misinformed. It must have been some fault in me. I must have said something that . . .” He broke off, raising his hands helplessly.

The Prince's nostrils flared. “We are not pleased.”

Karish bowed for a fourth time, and this time he kept his head down as he spoke. “Please, Your Highness. I beg you mercy. She meant no harm.”

To see Karish grovelling before that man was disgusting. I resisted the urge to tug him back up. I kept my eyes on the floor, so no one would see how much this disturbed me.

“If the title has already passed, there is nothing to be done,” the Prince declared.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And you might want to take your mother in hand.”

Oh, I really wanted to take a hand to his mother.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“You may rise.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Karish straightened to his full height.

“Enjoy the evening, Source Karish.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Karish linked my arm through his. We bowed once more and left the dais.

That was it? That was it. Thank Zaire.

I wouldn't have to go to Flown Raven. I wouldn't have to not go while my partner did. I wouldn't be taken off the roster again. I wouldn't be made useless and redundant. Who could I kiss for this?

As we walked away from the Prince, Karish turned his head and unerringly found his mother near the other end of the room. So he'd known she was there the whole time. She arched one eyebrow in inquiry. He nodded once. She turned back to her conversation, confident her will had been done.

And the tension flowed from Karish's arm. “It's done!” he hissed into my ear with sudden glee. “Lord, I half wish I could be there when she finds out.”

“You could guarantee it if you told her yourself,” I reminded him. And the evil side of my nature wished he'd do it right then, in the ballroom, in front of everyone, where she would have to control herself and might actually physically explode from the repressed rage and frustration.

“Ha!” he said rather loudly, drawing attention from others in the vicinity. He showed no signs of caring. “I'll never speak to that woman again. Ever.”

“You say that now, Taro—”

“And I mean it.”

No doubt he did, but if she summoned him again he would go. Because there would always be a part of him that hoped there was some real connection there. A hope that she would show some recognition that her actions of the past had been wrong, and that there would be some desire on her part to know him as something other than a disgrace or a tool. How could he feel otherwise? She was the only family he had left.

There was no point in saying so, though. He would never admit it. “Can we go, now?”

He laughed, relief ringing out through the sound. “Do you have so little faith in me, my love?” he asked me. “Do you doubt my ability to make this evening a delightful experience for you?”

Delightful? Where had he been? Last I heard we were counting ourselves lucky if we could just get through the evening without stabbing ourselves out of sheer boredom. “Why? Who are you planning on killing?”

“I am shocked,” he avowed. “I am appalled. I am hurt. I am currently looking at young Lord Nairn.” He indicated a handsome sandy-haired young man standing across the room. “He's engaged to Lady Iona, but sleeping with his valet.”

“Karish!” I hissed at him, scandalized. “I have no interest in gossip.”

“You're surrounded by the High Landed, Lee. It's time to wear togas.”

Karish didn't personally know as many of the people in the room as I would have expected, and those he did know were those I remembered meeting myself in Erstwhile. It made sense, when I thought about it. He didn't actually grow up in aristocratic circles, and I guess he didn't frequent the same kind of establishments or go to the same parties as they did. So he couldn't really tell me many of their intimate secrets. But that was no obstacle. Once he ran out of things to say about the people he knew, he made up stories about the people he didn't. I found those easier to laugh at.

The ballroom never became very full. Only a couple of dozen more people were introduced to the Prince before the musicians began playing the first waltz. “Is it normal to have so few people at an event like this?” I asked Taro as he led me to the middle of the floor. At least I knew the waltz, possibly the only form of ballroom dancing I could perform to aristocratic standards. Hopefully I wouldn't cripple my partner with my newly-discovered levels of clumsiness.

“I'm not sure,” he said, curving his arm around my waist and guiding us through the first steps. “I've never been to anything quite like this before. But it seems to me that everyone here is a titleholder. None of the usual hangers on, escorts, untitled Landed. Maybe it's a select crowd because of the Prince.”

“Well, then, why were you invited?” Because he'd gotten the invitation before his mother had arrived in High Scape, so it probably hadn't been done at her urging. Unless she had started contacting the Prince about Karish's title before she'd even reached High Scape.

Karish grinned. “I don't know. An oversight on someone's part.”

“And why were you allowed to bring me?”

“The invitation didn't forbid us to bring untitled guests. I think we were supposed to gather it from the hints. Too bad I'm so dense, eh?”

I couldn't grin back at him. I was thinking about a few of the hints the Prince had been tossing about. “Do you think Gifford knows what you did in Middle Reach?”

“No one really knows what I did in Middle Reach, except you and I. Have you been talking to the Prince behind my back, Lee?”

“Be serious, Taro.”

“Be at ease, Lee. Not everything happens for a reason. Sometimes things just happen. And sometimes people just say things that have no logical connection to anything else. That can happen when you open your mouth more than three times an hour.”

Ah, he was being flighty, and determined not to think. It would be impossible to get anything useful out of him. “Is your brain hurting you again?”

He punished me by kissing my forehead, right out there where everyone could see us. And his mother.

True to Karish's word I did, surprisingly enough, enjoy the following hours. He kept me laughing, in a manner I'm sure no one else approved of. They were all being very correct, smiling when required, and if anyone so much as giggled they kept it quiet and short and hid the failure behind a hand. That, in itself, was entertaining.

But I found it odd how little overt attention Karish received from the other guests. In Erstwhile he had been always surrounded by people, sometimes having to plead exhaustion just to get away from the crowd. In Yellows' ballroom, however, he was largely ignored. While many came to exchange brutally civil greetings, no one lingered to chat. I wondered what had changed.

Or maybe it was me, my presence that was keeping them away.

He didn't seem disturbed by it, but sometimes it was hard to know what he was thinking. He didn't seem tense as he spoke with those who wandered by. And as usual he looped his arm over my shoulders without a care as to what others thought. He danced with no one other than me, even staying with me during dances in which I refused to participate. I intercepted some long looks cast his way, but there was a definite distance between Karish and everyone else in that room. And Karish appeared indifferent to it.

Perhaps I was making too much of it. After all, if I went to a ball held by a member of the merchant class, I would probably be equally isolated. I didn't really know any of my economic peers, either. I was as much an outsider to my class as Karish was to his.

But Karish was different.

And despite the fun Karish managed to derive for me, I was happy to hear it when supper was announced. That meant the greater part of the evening was over. We would eat. As soon as manners allowed it, we would go home.

That would be the end of any dealings with the Crown Prince. And then Karish's mother would leave. Life would start sliding back towards normal. I was really looking forward to it.

Chapter Twenty

Precedence had to be observed. Both of us being titleless meant Karish and I were at the end of the long procession leaving the ballroom and heading for the dining room.