The High Ground (22 page)

The music filtered faintly through the double doors. Luckily it was a waltz and not a set dance. “Just stand for a moment and listen. Now we’re going to just sway back and forth in time to the beat,” Mercedes instructed. They did that for a few moments. He wasn’t as tall as Boho, but she still had to look up and they seemed to just fit.

“Now you take one step forward and I take one step back and then we step to the side and turn a quarter to the right.”

Tracy stumbled a bit on the third step, pulled away from her and walked away. “I’m hopeless.”

“No, you’re nervous and too hard on yourself. You’re a singer. Don’t think I haven’t heard you.” He looked over his shoulder. She stepped to him, and pressed her palm against his chest. “Just feel it. In your body.” His hand covered hers and they stood for a moment. A pulse was beating in his throat. He smelled of citrus soap, and a male musk that was very pleasant. “Now come on. At least be brave enough to try.”

They started again and after a few stiff steps he began to relax. Mercedes then added the next lesson. She leaned back against his barely supporting hand, and damn near fell. She didn’t make any effort to save herself, and Tracy scrambled to catch her. He pulled her back upright and ended up clutching her against his chest. Their faces were only inches apart.

“Sorry, sorry. That was my fault.”

“Yes it was. You have to allow me to give weight, lean back against your supporting hand. And you have to do it too. It’s the only way to have a flowing dance. You have to trust your partner, believe they will never let you fall. It’s an act of faith.”

His expression was serious. “Bit of a metaphor for being a soldier, isn’t it? We’re going to have to trust our shipmates if it comes to a fight.”

“Given some of our classmates I’m not sure if that’s comforting or terrifying.” Mercedes had tried to make it a joke, but she found herself thinking about Mihalis and wondering just how far she could trust him.

She shook off the uncomfortable thought and said, “Let’s try again.”

His fingers closed around hers; his right hand was a firm, warm and constant presence on her waist. A breeze sighed through the branches of the potted bonsai trees on the terrace. The susurration of the leaves matched the rustle of her skirts across the flagstone.

“One final thing,” Mercedes said softly. “It’s customary to look in your partner’s eyes rather than at your feet when you dance.”

He raised his eyes to hers, and the breath caught in her throat. And she realized it was also a pretty good metaphor for love.

* * *

His breath went short and heat raced through his body when their eyes met. They both lost the beat and faltered to a stop.

“I knew you’d be a quick study,” she said and her voice was a bit higher than normal.

“You’re a good teacher,” Tracy replied and he hoped the shadow from the nearby bonsai would hide his embarrassingly obvious physical reaction.

“Are we done?” Mercedes asked when he just kept standing. He thought she sounded disappointed.

“They’re… they’re not playing a waltz any longer,” Tracy offered.

“You could… hum.”

“All right.” He began humming the music that had just been playing. It wasn’t too discordant with the sprightly set dance that was now playing.

“Next time I’ll teach you some of those,” Mercedes said with a nod toward the doors.

“I think I like this best,” he said, smiling down at her. The smile curdled when her eyes filled with alarm, and she pulled her hand out of his and pushed him away. “Wha—” he began and then heard Boho’s voice smooth and unctuous.

“Infanta, I was sent in search of you. Poor Reitten wondered if he’d offended when his partner failed to show up so we formed a search party.”

“I… I thought with his knee,” Mercedes began.

Boho jumped in. “He’s not up to a waltz, but perfectly capable of ‘Stars End’.” He held out his arm. “May I escort you?”

“Yes, yes. I lost track of…” She looked back at Tracy and her voice trailed away.

Tracy bowed, the perfect deferential bow his father had taught him. “Thank you for the instruction, Your Highness.”

“Do put it to good use, Cadet Belmanor,” Mercedes said formally. “I’m sure some lady will be delighted with your skill.”

She and Boho vanished through the doors. For an instant the vivacious four-four time music rang in the darkness then was muted as the door closed. Tracy returned to the balustrade, and stood in a happy haze recalling Mercedes’ hand in his, the warmth of her smile, and her soft breath on his face.

There was a sudden choking pressure on his throat as he was grabbed by the back of his collar and yanked around. Boho was back, and he wasn’t alone. Mihalis del Campo and Clark Kunst were with him. Boho’s handsome face was twisted with fury.

“How dare you! You jumped up little
intitulado
. She’s the heir to the throne. Not some shop girl for you to paw and pant over. You’re going to learn your place, and I’m going to enjoy delivering the lesson.”

Tracy dropped into a fighting stance. He prayed his uniform wouldn’t be too badly damaged in the fight. Boho surprised him by stepping back. The fury on the handsome face turned to contempt. “This is how a gentleman fights, you filthy
intitulado
!” Boho slapped Tracy hard across the face. It stung and drew tears from his left eye. “Name your seconds.”

“Are you mental?” Tracy’s voice spiraled up. “You’re challenging me to a
duel
?”

Boho smiled, a particularly sinister expression in the moment. “Yes, I am.”

“Yeah, well, fuck off. I’m not playing your aristo games.” He started to push past the bigger man.

Kunst stopped him with a hand on his chest. “A gentleman doesn’t walk away from an affair of honor.”

“Yeah, well you’re constantly reminding me I’m not a gentleman. So I repeat.
Fuck the hell off
.”

Mihalis looked to Boho and shrugged. “Your call, man.”

Boho stalked over to Tracy. He was still smiling. “If I report that you ducked a challenge to the admiral you’ll be expelled. He’s rather fond of dueling. He’ll assume you’re a coward, and he won’t tolerate that.”

For an instant Tracy was ready to say,
Fine, do your worst. I never wanted to go anyway
. But then he remembered the pride his father took at seeing his son in his uniform. Alexander’s joy waving The High Ground banner at the soccer game. How could he face his dad if he got expelled?

“Okay, fine.”

“Mihalis, Clark, will you act for me?” Boho asked.

“Of course.”

“My pleasure.”

“So what the hell do I have to do?” Tracy asked.

“Find two students who will stand with you. Send them to us,” Kunst explained. “We’ll make all the arrangements.”

“Do it fast,” Boho said as he walked past. He paused, and flicked Tracy’s cheek with a forefinger. “I’m so looking forward to this. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that pin.”

The doors opened, the music blared then faded. Tracy was alone. He sank down on the edge of a planter and tried to think of two people who would be part of this incredibly stupid farce. After several minutes he roused himself and went into the ballroom.

A long set dance was in progress. Mercedes was being escorted by the limping Reitten up the line while Ernesto Chapman-Owiti paced quickly up the outside of the line of men. All three reached the top of the set at the same time. Chapman-Owiti took Mercedes’ free hand, and both he and Reitten bowed. She curtsied, released Reitten’s hand and was escorted back down the set by Chapman-Owiti. Tracy shook off his distraction and scanned the room for a friend. Or at least an ally.

Davin Pulkkinen was presenting a glass of ice water to a pretty girl in a pink dress. They were both in the choir together, maybe— Tracy rejected that thought. Davin was one of Boho’s acolytes and Kunst’s friend. He’d never agree.

The music ended and Tracy spotted Mark Wilson handing off his partner to the next man. He hurried over to the other scholarship student.

“Hi, I need a favor.”

“Sure. What’s up?” The response was offhanded. Wilson, panting and with trickles of sweat running from his sideburns, was looking after his former partner with a rather stupid grin. “That’s one of Caballero Balchin’s daughters. I think I might have a chance there.”

“Dream on,” Tracy snapped.

Wilson glared at him. “Hey, he’s just a knight and she’s not the eldest. Why are you such an asshole all the time?”

“Sorry,” Tracy muttered. “I’m a little distracted, okay?”

“So what did you want?”

“One of these FFH dickheads has challenged me to a duel—”

“Really? What did you
do
? Who?”

“I didn’t do anything, don’t sound so excited, and it was that asshole Cullen.”

Wilson took a step back and held up his hands. “Oh, no. I’m not getting in the middle of
that
. I’m on the team with him, and he’s going to be the Duque de Argento y Pepco. His family could have held the throne if things had gone differently. I’m not making him an enemy.” Wilson spun on his heel and walked away.

“Fine! Kiss their asses. It won’t make any difference. They’ll still despise you,” Tracy called after him. There were a few shocked and disapproving glances from several older women, and a very elderly man who pinched his lips and said, “In
my
day—”

“Yeah, whatever,” Tracy groused at him, and strode away. He had his head down, and he caught someone with his shoulder as he headed toward the archway leading out of the ballroom.

“Hey, what’s up. You look ready to kill somebody.” It was Hugo. “You’re not leaving are you?”

“Yeah, I am. I’ve had about as much of this FFH bullshit as I can take.”

“Something happened.”

“You could say that.” He tried to shrug out from beneath Hugo’s hand.

“Tell me.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe I can help. That’s what friends do.”

“Yeah, well, friends like me won’t add to your consequence. You better go find some fourth daughter of some low-ranking knight and schmooze.”

“My consequence is so low it would take a microscope to see it,” Hugo said quietly.

Finally Tracy actually looked at Hugo. There was a shadow of unhappiness in the big man’s eyes, and he looked vulnerable. Tracy’s earlier anger against the man faded. He jerked his head toward the archway leading to the landing and they left the ballroom.

“I take it this hasn’t been a great night for you, either?”

“You could say that.”

“So, what happened to you?”

“You first,” Hugo countered.

“I got challenged to a duel. By Cullen.”

“You’ll need a second.”

“Yeah, so I’ve been told.”

“I’ll do it.”

Tracy leaned back against the thin silver balustrade. “Why? Why would you do that? Aren’t you worried you’ll piss off the high and mighty Vizconde Dorado Arco?”

“First, like I told you before—I owe you. And second, these wankers wouldn’t let me invite my mom and dad to this shindig.”

“Huh? He’s a knight.”

“Yeah, but not the right kind of knight. Dad lobbied like a mother for this title, and it doesn’t mean dick. The worst part was that he took this insult like a grateful Hajin, all grinning and bowing. Said he and Mom wouldn’t know how to go on at something like this, and they wouldn’t want to take away from my shine.”

They fell silent for a moment. “Maybe your kids will be considered sufficiently well born,” Tracy offered.

“Yeah, give it a generation to get the stink of commerce off them. So, yeah. I’ll stand up with you.”

“I’m told I need two.”

Hugo frowned, thinking, then a slow smile bloomed. “I’ve got a crazy-ass idea…”

“Yeah.”

“What about Sumiko?”

“She’s a woman,” Tracy blurted.

“You noticed.” Hugo gave him a punch on the shoulder. “She’s also a cadet and she’s cool. She’s been tutoring me in math.”

Tracy frowned. “I would have helped you if you’d asked.”

“Hello.” Hugo smacked him on the forehead. Tracy decided this habit was getting pretty damn old. “Cute girl.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Tracy sat with the idea for a moment, and began to smile. “Oh,
Dios
, it’ll piss them off so bad.”

“Yeah, and won’t that be fun?”

“Let’s do it.” Tracy clasped Hugo’s hand. “Assuming she agrees.”

“I’ll go talk to her. You headed home?”

“Yeah, like I said, I’ve had about all I can take of FFH hospitality.”

* * *

They had returned to the palace at four a.m., and Mercedes had been too keyed up to sleep. She had had a perverse reaction to seeing Tracy leave the ball. Disappointed that he was leaving, pleased that he didn’t dance with any other girl. Later she had seen her father and Sanjay’s father in close conversation, and Julieta had danced a number of times with the young cadet. Mercedes had bitten her lip and stayed silent.

Back in her quarters Flanon, ignoring her order, had helped her out of her dress, tutted over the blisters on her toes and heels, and brushed out her hair. Mercedes shrugged into a dressing gown, a frothy creation of lace and silk, and slipped down the hall to Estella’s room. Estella’s maid was just leaving, carrying Estella’s dress and inspecting a rip in the hem.

“I was hoping you’d come by,” her sister said.

They settled in the bed and Mercedes pulled the covers up to her chin. “I’ll have to leave day after tomorrow, so I’m not sure I’ll find the opportunity, but could you talk to Julieta and find out how she feels about Sanjay?”

Estella put an arm around her shoulders. “This sounds like more than just curiosity.”

“I can say this to you. I don’t like him.” She told Estella about the sparring incident.

“It sounds like Danica rather asked for it,” Estella offered, settling deeper into her pillows.

“Isn’t that sort of blaming the victim?”

“It was a sparring class. She should have expected to get hit.”

“He lost his temper, and reacted with violence.”

“Because he had been told to,” Estella said placidly.

“You’re missing the point. A man who can get that angry over a few taunts—it means he is really thin-skinned. It could happen over anything.”