CHAPTER 10: The Dance
The games had closed and there was a party in every street as they drifted westward in the flow of the crowd. Kyric declined the offer of a drink from a stranger’s wine bottle. “I wonder how much wine Sedlik sold this week.”
“Enough to make his whole season,” Aiyan said loudly over the pop of firecrackers.
A new tent large enough to rival the big top of the circus had been erected at one corner of the fairgrounds, a hastily thrown up fence separating it from a row of booths on one side. It lay somewhat open to the sky, using netting rather than canvas for the top, with the royal banner of Aessia flying from its crest. A handful of royal guardsmen flanked the huge opening that served as the door of the tent, and a few more stood at the gate to a wide street jammed with ornate carriages. Beyond lay the fair, bright with the light of hundreds of lanterns and many bonfires, the crowd there a writhing mass in the glow of a thousand paper lamps.
Kyric showed the invitation to the protocol master at the entry. He wrote their names on a list.
“Sir,” Aiyan said to him. The man looked up. “That’s me, Sir Aiyan,” he said pointing to the man’s list.
He gave them each a stiff piece of paper. Kyric Ospraeus, Esquire was written on Kyric’s card. He didn’t know what to do with it. They were ushered in without any announcement.
The floor of the tent lay covered in hardwood, and dozens of lamps hung from the netting. The walls were painted by a landscape artist, and they depicted an archaic pastoral scene including well-groomed fields and spotless ruins, nothing like Karta.
The place smelled good, like wild roses in the forest. Pedestals blooming with flower arrangements stood at every station and most of all in front of a screened area to one side where no doubt the princess and her party waited. A small orchestra played at the back, and at the other side stood huge cages filled with exotic birds. In the center lay an open stone hearth where a small fire burned in imitation of the traditional bonfire.
Over a hundred guests were there, mostly standing in little circles, the ladies all fanning themselves furiously. The athletes and their friends were easy to spot — their clothing just didn’t have that light, airy, seasonal touch that the aristocracy enjoyed.
Aiyan casually looked around. “Most of the Senate seems to be here.” Then he stopped. “Elistar’s breath. There’s Morae standing right next to Lekon.”
Kyric didn’t look. “Won’t they recognize you?”
“I wore a false beard and spoke with a Keltassian dialect when playing the trader with Lekon, so I don’t think he will know me. Morae has only seen me as Captain Bombasto, but if he gets close he will know me no matter how I’m costumed.”
He stroked the tuft of hair remaining on his chin. “I’m going to mingle with the athletes. I’ll have my back to Morae, so signal me if he starts moving my way.”
With his blood red doublet, Morae was easy to track in a crowd. Kyric tried to watch him without looking at him, and so distracted himself that he didn’t see Stefin Vaust until he was almost upon him.
“You did not honor our agreement,” Vaust said sharply. “I should take one of your ears for that.” He held Kyric’s eye for a moment, allowing, at last, a thin smile to form.
Kyric bowed politely while he thought of what to say. “Good evening, Mr. Vaust. I, ah, regret that Jela wasn’t able to accompany me. You see — “
“Ah!” Vaust piped, “here she comes now. And on the arm of the lion-wrestling Jakavian. Don’t tell me you’ve had a falling out.”
Kyric turned and stared in disbelief. There she was in a gown of lemon and fern, beautiful and tiny next to Jazul Marlez. Jazul stood imposing in simple black with a lion’s skin cape over one shoulder, his own mane of hair tied back loosely. His big smile got bigger when he saw Kyric and Vaust approaching.
“Hello friend,” he said to Kyric. “I foretold that I would win the gold bar. Did you win your contest as well?”
Kyric shook his hand. “No. I finished second.”
“To tell the truth,” Jazul said, lowering his voice, “I finished second, but the winner died on his last lift.”
“He died?”
“Yes. He tried much more weight than he needed to win — more than I have ever seen. He got the weight over his head and held it, then he fell backward, dead.”
“It was terrible,” Jela said.
“Terrible?” said Jazul. “It was the best part of the whole games!” He roared with laughter.
Jela explained how she and her friends had seen Jazul sitting alone at the games and how he didn’t know anyone here, the circus just being a venue for his act. They had taken it upon themselves to see him properly entertained in Aeva, and she had taken it upon herself to see him properly escorted.
Vaust took Jela’s hand, bowing over it in his finery of mahogany and wheat, and kissing it lightly. His slicked-back hair and shaven face accentuated his angular features. “I hope you will honor me with a dance tonight,” he said to her.
Something caught Kyric’s eye and when he turned he saw Aiyan watching from across the floor, almost quivering in anger, his face slowly turning red.
A clapping of hands turned everyone to the center of the floor. The orchestra stopped playing. The master of protocol called everyone to form a line where he had laid a velvet rope. The games winners were to be first, then the nobility. Deliberately avoiding Jela, Aiyan pulled Kyric to the end, so that they would be last. The protocol master started with Aiyan, going down the line collecting and stacking each name card.
When he was done she came from behind the screens and he announced, “Princess Aerlyn of the house Quytis, Mother Reagent of the Realm.”
They all stood taller and leaned forward to see her better. She wore a sliver of a tiara in her umber colored hair, a delicate gown of lavender and cream, and she moved with practiced grace. As she came closer Kyric saw that she was not quite the princess of fairytales. She was too tall, and her nose was too big, and she had a bit of a cleft to her chin.
Kyric was about to say this when Aiyan said, “More lovely than the forest in springtime, fearless as the sea in winter. In the summer of her life, I would fall before her as the gentle rain of autumn.”
“Aiyan,” said Kyric in wonder, “you’re a poet.”
“It’s from a play, but it fits here.”
A young boy and an even younger girl followed her, along with an older man wearing a heavy bronze medallion of office.
“Who’s that?” Kyric whispered.
“Lord Porlien, the Chancellor of the Realm — a ceremonial title these days.”
Rather than stand and let the line move past her, Princess Aerlyn elected to walk along the line. She spent a minute or two with each athlete, and seemed genuinely pleased to speak to them. She rushed through the nobility and the senators and their wives with perfunctory politeness, and offered a smile and a nod to most of the other guests, stopping a few times for a short chat with one of them. Blushing nervously, Jela managed to curtsey and mumble, “Good evening, Your Highness.”
It took some time, and most everyone was restless and whispering to one another by the time Aerlyn made it to the end of the line. The master of protocol read from his last two cards.
“Kyric Ospraeus, esquire.”
The princess smiled and Kyric bowed. “A pleasure, Your Highness.”
“Sir Aiyan Dubern.”
Their eyes met, and the two of them stood in perfect stillness as the rest of the world hummed restlessly about them. The sense that one recognized the other fell so strongly upon Kyric that he too could not move. The master of protocol checked his pocket watch. Aiyan bowed deeply and solemnly.
“Sir Aiyan,” said Aerlyn, her woodwind voice resonate, yet absent of force. “Were you knighted by the Prince my late husband?”
“I was not, Princess, but I understand that he was familiar with my order.” Aiyan spoke clearly yet softly. Kyric doubted t
hat anyone more than a few places down the line could overhear.
“Which order is that?”
“The Order of the Flaming Blade, Your Highness.”
Her gaze turned inward in puzzlement. “I thought that I knew all the chivalric orders of the Aessian realm.”
“Many years ago we were knights of this realm, but now we are an international order.”
“You hold no allegiance to any state?”
Aiyan hesitated only a moment. “We do not concern ourselves with the arguments of nations, Princess. We are dedicated to serving all of humanity.”
“A noble aspiration.”
“It is,” said Aiyan, plunging on, “but we served the Aessian kings long ago and we have not forgotten this.” Something about him held her eye. “Lomin te aeicath,” he said, as if they were words of power.
It was Old Essian — Know this for truth. Kyric could see that Princess Aerlyn knew it as well.
“Know this for truth, Princess. To this day we are pledged to protect your family from harm, and your noble house from any darkness which would descend upon it should you ask.” His look to her said a thousand words more. His voice dropped to a whisper. “You need only ask.”
Kyric looked down the line to see Morae leaning out with a clouded brow, staring at Aiyan and the princess. Suddenly Kyric was afraid for them and searched for a distraction.
He dropped to one knee in front of the two children. “Hello,” he said loudly to both of them, “my name is Kyric. What’s yours?”
The boy gave an abrupt bow. “I’m Prince Eren.”
“And I’m Lady Kaelyn,” said the girl, playing with a strand of her strawberry hair. She looked about seven years old.
“I’m pleased to meet you both,” Kyric said.
“Have you seen the baby elephant?” said Kaelyn
“Pygmy,” her brother said, correcting her. “Not baby. A pygmy elephant.”
“No, I haven’t.”
She frowned at Eren, and turned back to Kyric. “We want to see it.”
The spell was broken. The master of protocol cleared his throat, and the princess said to Aiyan, “I believe we must move on to the next part of the evening. But let us talk more before the night is through.” She smiled then, but for the briefest moment Kyric saw a flicker of distress in her eyes. “Please.”
Aiyan bowed again. “As Her Highness wishes.”
Princess Aerlyn went to stand in the center of the floor and presented the games winners. Everyone in line applauded, the orchestra began to play, everyone scattering as an army of servants invaded the tent. They set up tables and chairs, and wheeled in carts laden with sliced fruit and vegetables, oysters and other fruits of the sea, all resting in beds of ice.
Aiyan went straight to Jela, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Uncle Aiyan,” she said through a giddy grin. “Did you see? They have ice — chilled food in the middle of summer.”
“That must cost plenty,” said Jazul, joining their little circle. “The nearest icepack is a thousand leagues to the north.”
Aiyan lead Jela aside, but Kyric could still hear his harsh whisper. “You think you’re very clever, but you’re acting like a foolish girl. Have you no regard at all for my knowledge and experience? Am I someone whose opinion doesn’t matter?”
Jela looked at the floor. “No. I simply didn’t think of it that way.”
Aiyan let out a breath. “Just stay with the big guy and don’t go near Vaust or Morae. I expect you to become fatigued long before this soiree is done.”
She made a sullen sound. “Alright.”
Aiyan casually looked the room over. Lekon and Morae were speaking with the princess, so he drifted in the other direction, mingling briefly and slowly circling back when they moved away from Aerlyn and were replaced by Senator Ulium and a man in a military uniform. The orchestra struck up a lively tune, and Jela dragged Jazul to the open floor where a few couples already danced. Waiters sped gracefully among the guests with glasses of chilled white wine.
Kyric watched as Prince Eren and Lady Kaelyn were led to the bird cages by a lady in waiting and started toward them, thinking that it might be easier to socialize with children, when someone called his name.
It was Morae. He had traded his hat for a thick black wig. His face was long and thin, his eyes sunken and darkly rimmed. “Kyric Ospraeus,” he said, not offering to shake hands. “I was impressed by your fine shooting in the games.”
Kyric swallowed. His nerves surged, but he held down the fluttering panic in his gut.
“Thank you,” he managed to say. “Still second to Stefin Vaust.”
Standing close to him, Kyric could see that Morae’s height made him look deceptively thin. There was some muscle beneath the doublet, and he sensed physical prowess in the way he moved. And he sensed something in Morae that he had never felt in Aiyan, that this man had murdered in cold blood.
“I have never seen Stefin make the perfect shot as you did.”
Kyric tried to sound casual. “I was just lucky.”
“You meant to do it. That isn’t luck. Men like me believe the only luck is that which you make for yourself.” Morae looked down at him curiously. “I am always interested in young men of exceptional talent.”
Morae seemed to look into him, and Kyric couldn’t look away from his eyes. He could almost taste the black blood again.
“I reward men in my service most handsomely — ask Stefin — and the work is anything but dull. And for those who prove loyal, there exists profound opportunities.”
“That would be worth considering,” Kyric found himself saying. He didn’t mean to say it. He had to stop looking at Morae.
“We could step out to my carriage and discuss the specifics.” His voice almost echoed in Kyric’s mind, becoming hypnotic. Break the spell, he shouted to himself. Move!
He found that he could bow. Bowing deeply he broke the lock that Morae’s stare had held.
“Another time, perhaps?” he said, finally able to breathe again. “I’m still unsure of my future.”
“Very well,” Morae said patiently, “another time.”
When Kyric looked up Morae was gone. Aiyan faced him from the other side of the tent, holding his locket in one hand. He waved Kyric over to his side.
“What did he do to you?”
“It was like the last time I looked at him, only not as strong. Kyric took a deep breath. “He actually tried to recruit me into his service.” He felt sweat on his brow and reached for his handkerchief. “I need to stay away from him.”
“I’m surprised he’s exposing himself like this,” Aiyan said. “They usually stay far in the background as possible. He must have had compelling words for Princess Aerlyn. She looks upset now, and Senator Ulium isn’t making it any better. Come along and watch my back while I speak with her.”
Aiyan stopped a respectful distance from the princess and waited for her nod, which she gave immediately. As they approached Kyric could hear Senator Ulium saying, “ — did not vote, the deadlock would give them a fortnight to reconsider their greed.” Ulium was old and lined and his skinny arms flailed a bit when he spoke.
“And if they did not change their position?” she asked him.
“Then I and my faction will oppose them with all our influence.”
She looked to the military man, a navy captain Kyric thought, then back to Ulium. “Thank you, gentlemen. We will speak again tomorrow.”
Aiyan approached her as the other men turned away. “Your Highness. You have met my squire, Kyric.” Not knowing what to do, Kyric bowed.
“I thought that knights with squires went out of style with the joust,” Aerlyn said playfully. “Do you polish his armor and curry his horse, squire Kyric?”
He hadn’t expected her to address him, but after speaking to Morae a princess wasn’t so frightening. “I only follow him around out of curiosity. He must do
his own chores.”
She laughed politely at the counter-play, and Aiyan chuckled a little, just the right amount before continuing. “I must compliment the Princess. The reception is lovely.”
She smiled somewhat sadly. “You need not speak to me that way. I am a princess in name only.”
Aiyan acknowledged her with a curt bow of his head. “I’ve watched the politicians court you this evening. They don’t do that with those who are powerless.”
“For one brief moment I have a say in a government decision, nothing more.”
“The Senate is deadlocked,” Aiyan said as if discussing the weather, “and you have the power to break it. Because the issue concerns more wealth than can be counted, each faction pushes you to side with them using as much fright as can be mustered.”
Aerlyn looked at him for a long moment. “I see you keep up with politics,” she said. “The difference between the two sides has more to do with method, timing and the division of spoils, than with what is right. And it is shaded by my own financial complications. Lekon has offered me a share in the company, if formed. He has also offered to ruin my investments in the cloth trade if I vote against him. But my chief concern is what it will do to my people.”
“A needless or unjust war is never good for any people,” Aiyan said.
“I’ve been told that the Baskillian Empire would not go to war over this, the alliance with Sevdin and the Syrolian states being the deterrent.”
“Whoever said that is either misinformed or heavily invested in war materials.”
Her eyes narrowed and Kyric could see calculation in them. “I am well aware that the four closest to Lekon own cannon foundries and gunpowder factories. But even Ulium says this, and he’s heavily invested in peace.”
“Perhaps he has been blinded by the unbelievable wealth of the spice trade. It remains, however, that the Baskillian fleet is triple the size of the alliance squadrons.”
Aerlyn stiffened a little. “They have sailed against us twice in the last century, and twice we have stopped them in the Straits of Terrula.”
“Princess, you are only repeating what your advisors have told you. What do you feel in your heart?”
She looked away. “I feel threatened in a way I cannot explain.”
Aiyan was silent for a moment. The orchestra started a waltz, and when Kyric glanced at the dance floor he nearly bit his lip. Jela was dancing with Stefin Vaust.
“What you feel are the secret forces at work here,” Aiyan said to her. “I need to tell you something of which I have no proof, Your Highness, and I do not say this lightly. Senator Lekon is but the puppet of Kleon Morae. And Morae is the agent of . . . a foreign power. I cannot prove this, but I swear it is true.”
Aerlyn stood wide-eyed in shock, but only for a moment. “If you have no proofs how do you know it?”
“I know it from the captain of Lekon’s trade galleon, the one who has gone missing. He possessed other proofs that are missing as well.”
“Do you think he was killed?”
Aiyan’s expression didn’t change. “I’m sure of it.”
Aerlyn fanned herself lightly while she considered this. “What is your part in this, Sir Aiyan? Who is your patron and who are your friends?”
“I have none, save those in the Order of the Flaming Blade.”
Aerlyn snapped her fan closed. “Name one man in your order that I know. Name one aristocrat who can witness for you.”
“I cannot.”
“In which cities do you have chapterhouses? Where do you meet?”
“We have only one meeting place, the castle on Esaiya.”
“Esaiya . . . ” She searched for the memory. “Do you mean Castle Island? I thought that was an order of monks.”
“We circulate that story so we are left alone. We are warriors as much as any knight of old.”
“So why are you here telling me all this?”
“I have already said, Princess. I am here to protect you from them if you so wish it. You have stood close to Morae. What did you feel?”
Aerlyn’s gaze turned dark. “I felt that I stood at the edge of a snake pit. And I don’t — “ her voice caught and she had to swallow, “I don’t like the way he looks at my son.” She clutched her fan tightly with both hands. “I want to trust you, Sir Aiyan. I — “
The lady in waiting that Kyric had seen with Eren and Kaelyn had stopped in front of them. She looked around with growing anxiety.
“Where are my children?” Aerlyn asked.
The lady began to panic. “They said they were coming directly here to stand with you.”
Kyric looked across the floor. He couldn’t see the children, but he noticed that Morae was waving Vaust over to him.
“Calm yourself,” said Aerlyn, “they’re probably hiding from you.” She gathered a handful of servants and sent them searching the length of the floor. A few minutes later they came back empty-handed.
Aerlyn turned back to the lady in waiting. “Where did you last see them?”
“We were looking at the birds.”
They all walked over to the birdcages together. Peering under the platform where the cages sat, Aiyan said, “There’s a tear in the tent — they must have slipped out here.”
Morae watched from across the floor. He whispered into Vaust’s ear imperatively, and Vaust strode quickly to the entrance, breaking into a trot as he went out.
Aiyan saw it. To the princess he said, “Don’t worry. I will find them.” To Kyric he said, “Come with me,” and he ran from the tent in Vaust’s wake, running fast as a sprinter in his clumsy dress shoes. Kyric couldn’t run in them. As soon as he was outside, he kicked them off and went in pursuit of Aiyan.
Aiyan wove through the crowd at full speed, never so much as brushing against anyone, adjusting his course to avoid obstacles before he could even see them. Kyric tried to keep up but soon collided with a juggler, going down in a rain of wooden pins. He was back up in an instant, but Aiyan was already lost to him.
Wait. He didn’t have to chase Aiyan. He knew where the kids had gone. Hauling the juggler to his feet with an apology he asked, “Do you know where the pygmy elephant is kept?”
“Somewhere behind the big top,” the juggler answered shortly, brushing himself off. He pointed in the direction.
Kyric moved through the crowd as quickly as he could, coming to the front of the darkened circus tent. He circled around to the back side to find what was once an open marketplace covered by a latticework roof. Along with rows of wooden crates lay rows of animal cages near the back flaps of the tent, all in the glow of a dozen paper lamps suspended beneath the lattice. The smell of hay and manure lay thickly over the place. He walked past bears, lions — one must be Jazul’s Bruli — a chimpanzee, a pygmy rhino, and he turned the corner to find Eren and Kaelyn in front of an elephant standing five feet high.
He grinned with a little triumph saying, “Hi kids. I thought I would find you here.”
Eren frowned. “You’re not supposed to call us kids.”
Kaelyn jumped up and down. “Come look at the pygmy elephant, Kyric.”
He walked over and squatted beside her.
“It’s not a baby,” she said. “He’s full grown.”
“They live in the far south of Terrula,” Eren said, “where it’s always warm. What happened to your shoes?”
Kyric’s grin widened. “They weren’t very comfortable.”
“My feet are tired,” Kaelyn said. “May I take my shoes off too?”
Kyric stood up. “How about if I carry you back to the party where you can sit down?”
She beamed at him. “Okay.”
Suddenly Vaust stepped around the corner. “There you are. Well, it seems we have found them.”
He sounded casual enough, but Kyric saw the sign of the feral lie, the lie that bullies told so that they could get close enough to hurt you.
?
??You can take the little girl, and I will accompany the prince,” he said, taking two more steps.
Kyric stepped away from the children and crossed his arms over his sash, letting his fingertips slide underneath, close to the pocket pistols.
Vaust took one more step. Kyric reached for a pistol at the same time Vaust reached for his sword, but before Kyric could cock it, Vaust leaped forward and lunged. Kyric backpedaled, but too slowly, then Vaust’s foot flew out from under him as he slipped on a bit of manure. Kyric cocked his pistol and aimed directly at Vaust’s head. Anger came bubbling up like thick black tar.
Vaust had recovered his balance at once and they now stood only a few feet apart. Kyric could see a thought passing behind Vaust’s eyes — he was wondering if his sword arm was quicker than Kyric’s trigger finger. Then suddenly Aiyan was standing next to Vaust with the point of his sword against his neck.
“Drop your sword or I will kill you this instant,” Aiyan said softly.
Vaust did as he was told. Aiyan seemed on the verge of rage, and in the midst of decision. He pressed the tip of his sword a bit harder, and a trickle of blood ran down Vaust’s neck. It was red blood.
“So many young ones join them willingly now,” Aiyan whispered to himself. He had said that the night they met.
“You can walk away,” Aiyan said, still whispering, “and know that if it weren’t for those children standing there watching, you would already be dead.” He took his sword away from Vaust’s neck. “But you may not want to return to the party. You’ve gotten blood on your collar.”
Vaust began walking away backward, looking at Aiyan. He paused for a moment and looked hard, as if seeing something he hadn’t seen before. For a moment Kyric thought Aiyan would change his mind and go at him with the sword. Instead he called to Vaust, “If I were you, I would go and pray for redemption while I still could. While my will was still my own.”
Vaust gave off a short bark of a laugh as he turned the corner and was gone.
“We must return quickly,” Aiyan said. “He’ll run straight to Morae — and Morae could have followed us out for that matter.” He sheathed his sword quickly. “What’s more, Vaust saw me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was able to sense my inner nature you might say.”
Aiyan took the pistol from Kyric and asked him to carry Kaelyn. He held it against his leg, still fully cocked, and grasped Eren by the hand. He led them through the cages and back around the circus tent and into the fair. Aiyan watched for danger in every parting of the crowd and looked backward every few steps.
Princess Aerlyn stood outside the entryway waiting for them. She tried not to show any relief as she took her son’s hand from Aiyan, but to Kyric it was plain.
Eren looked up at his mother. “Sir Aiyan almost got into a swordfight with the man who won the gold arrow.”
“Is that so?” Aerlyn said, looking at Aiyan.
“There would never have been a fight,” Aiyan said evenly. “Vaust tried to claim the honor of returning the children to you when it was really Kyric who found them. I simply told him that it was not to be.”
Aerlyn said nothing then, but held her head up and looked so deeply into Aiyan that Kyric feared she would see all of his inner spirit laid open. The eye is a window and seeing passes each way. Her spirit bloomed like flowers in her eyes as she looked, and Aiyan breathed deeply of that fragrance.
“My knight errant,” she smiled. “I believe custom states that I must reward you with a token of my esteem. Shall I give you a ribbon to tie at the point of your lance?”
Aiyan smiled as well, but instead of counter-play he bowed and answered her seriously. “I ask only this: One dance.”
Her smile faded away, to be replaced by a look of curiosity. She gave him a nod and curtseyed to him. “Then let us dance.”
She took his arm and he led her inside and to the dance floor. She called to the orchestra leader, “Can you play Sparkling Wine?”
Everyone stopped at the abrupt moment of silence. Aiyan took the hand of the princess and the orchestra struck the opening chords of Sparkling Wine. Aiyan clearly recognized the song, breaking into a wide smile. She said something to him, and Kyric imagined her words. Do you like this song too? He answered. Oh yes, it’s one of my favorites. She: I’ve always loved dancing to this song.
Aerlyn danced effortlessly, with every nuance perfectly timed, and Aiyan matched her with his natural grace, leading her in a delicate spinning step, making great circles across the dance floor. They looked only at each other, giving them a stillness as they swept past Kyric with another turn.
Kyric scanned the room for Morae and Vaust, but he saw neither. Jela noticed him and broke away from a group of athletes, coming over with his shoes in her hand.
“Look at them,” she said, nodding toward Aiyan and Aerlyn. “They’re wonderful together.”
The music reached an interlude where only the violins played, and one by one the other couples began to drift to the side, stopping to watch, until none but Aiyan and Aerlyn were left dancing. They seemed to barely touch the floor, carried along by their own secret wind.
Still watching them, Jela said to Kyric, “You may have the next dance with me, if you would like that.”
Kyric grimaced. “I don’t know how.”
“You’ve never danced in your whole life?”
“No, I haven’t.”
At last came the finishing crescendo, and the princess and the knight walked hand in hand from the dance floor to the applause of guests and servants alike. They were flushed with excitement and laughing.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve danced like that,” Aerlyn said.
Aiyan took in a breath. “I have never danced like that.”
All at once a dozen lords and ladies pressed in on them, wanting to compliment Princess Aerlyn and interrogate Aiyan. He excused himself and made his way to Jela.
“You need to leave here at once,” he said to her.
She frowned. “Why? They’re not even here any longer.”
“I don’t have time for explanations, Jela,” he said through clinched teeth, “but trust me with this, you need to go right away. Go to the other side of the city. Take the lion wrestler to the dance at New Market Square. That way at least you will have not told a complete lie to your father.”
Without another word she stomped away to find Jazul.
“Why couldn’t she stay and go home with you and me?” Kyric asked.
Aiyan gave him a grim look. “Because when we leave here they will try to kill us.”