CASSIA HAD BEEN WISE to dine sparingly, for what little she had eaten out of obligation felt like a stone
halfway between her throat and stomach. She could manage her body’s reaction during a brief
encounter with the king, followed by a retreat to her rooms. Here in front of all these onlookers, with
hours to go before she could privately master herself, it was another matter.
As the guests quit their seats and the servants dragged the tables to the side of the great hall, Cassia
wondered if there was any possible way for her to leave before the dancing began. But it was useless
to imagine a way out. She must stay.
If the king ever decided to invent some treason she had committed, she would be the executioner’s
bride. She must not give him any transgression that he could elaborate into an act of disloyalty, even
an insult to her half brother on his temple day.
She would settle for finding a quiet corner where she could stand with Knight until it was time to
leave. Tenebran superstitions had their uses. The festivities must end before midnight to allow
everyone time to get home before the forsaken hour. If Cassia could just stay on her feet despite her
traitorous stomach, she would manage that long.
She could only hope none of the ladies would be in the mood to show the bastard a bit of
generosity and engage her in conversation. Or worse, that Lord Adrogan’s and Lord Ferus’s absences
might give some of her other would-be suitors ideas. Such men were most troublesome when the king
was not in sight, but the gaze watching from the dais might not prove deterrent enough for the more
foolish lords.
Or for a lackey looking out for Lord Ferus’s interests. When Cassia spotted Lord Beccus, she
concealed herself behind a knot of other guests and hastened to find a wall with which to spend the
evening.
She positioned herself between two tapestries and leaned back against the wall for support. Knight
braced himself against her, and she focused on his strong body holding her up. She managed to still
the tremors in her limbs, although they continued in her belly. What a distraction her body was every
time she was near the king. What a wasted opportunity her weakness made of this night, which she
might have spent in keen observation of the court...and the embassy.
From whispers in near-deserted hallways and rumors that flew from one mouth to another in
temple, Cassia had gleaned only enough to match the Hesperine emissaries’ names with their faces.
She had counted on this chance to better inform herself. She had been a fool to look forward to it and
to think seeing the Hesperines again would make it worth her while to endure this.
The minstrels began to play, and lords and ladies formed up in the now-empty center of the hall to
begin the dancing. The Hesperines stood out of the way. The watching crowd gathered in knots around
anyone who had liegehounds. Except Cassia and the king.
She observed the hall from under her lashes, doing her best not to look at the head of the room. She
didn’t want to know if the king was watching her. She looked instead at the guests, sure to let her gaze
dart across the whole crowd and not rest too long on anyone.
Where was Deukalion? His black silk hair and shoulders had been ahead of her the entire banquet.
Nowhere to be seen now. Strange, as his considerable height should make him easy to spot. He was
taller than anyone else in the room.
She did see Lord Beccus again, who roamed the edge of the room as if she were not his target. She
watched out for him from the corner of her eye while studying the embassy.
All Hesperines had been human once. Was it their magic, then, which made them taller than
mortals? Which made their hair grow so long? Were there spells in the various braids they wore or in
the trails of embroidery on their robes? Surely only magic could produce that strange, impossibly soft
fabric they called silk, whose origin was a mystery to everyone but them.
The Hesperine called Arkadia captured Cassia’s attention. The lady had the posture of a battle-
hardened warrior, a contrast to her soft curves. She was both dangerous and lovely. Everything a
Hesperine should be. With a figure only the truly wealthy could afford, she was the full-bodied,
womanly sort many men would slaughter to possess, but she was tall enough to look most males in the
eye, including the Hesperine beside her.
With his athletic build, he looked as if he could slaughter for her, but his expression was too gentle
for violence and held no possessive glint. Cassia identified him as Master Healer Javed. For
someone whose skin never saw the sun, he was remarkably brown. As he spoke with Lady Arkadia,
his lips danced in patterns utterly new to Cassia’s eyes, and she longed to understand the language he
spoke.
Lady Arkadia and Master Javed were clearly devoted to one another, although they never touched.
He angled his body toward her. She moved when he did. Most conspicuous of all, they appeared to be
wearing braids of one another’s hair. A dark, curly braid was attached at her blond temple, and a
golden lock was bound amid his mane of curls.
Lord Beccus drew nearer and nearer to Cassia, weaving his way through guests and greetings with
the appearance of aimlessness. She debated abandoning her refuge for a different stretch of wall. But
if he proved determined, they might keep this up all night. Her trembling legs and quivering belly
wouldn’t tolerate a chase around the room, no matter how circumspect. Cassia made a point not to
meet his gaze, hoping her inattention would discourage him.
She made a covert study of the embassy’s Master Envoys, Kumeta and Basir. She had never seen
anyone with skin so dark. Was it the result of nocturnal sorcery or an unfortunate encounter with a war
mage’s fire spell? So the temple mages would say. The same mages argued that the Cordian
complexion was a mark of Anthros’s favor, the result of living in proximity to Corona, the Divine
City. They also called Cassia’s Cordian mother forsaken for being a concubine. Cassia refused to
heed their illogical judgments upon her or Kumeta and Basir.
The longer she saw the Master Envoys, the more she noticed the beautiful variation between them,
the different richnesses in tone that defined their faces. They were two shades of the night they shared.
Their gazes, grave and unreadable, eased only when they looked at each other. They also wore one
another’s braids. Cassia could not say they looked older than Master Javed and Lady Arkadia, but she
beheld in Master Basir and Master Kumeta an unmistakable weariness.
If Cassia kept looking at the Hesperines, perhaps she would grow accustomed to the sight of them.
Perhaps their beauty and perilousness and kindness would cease to prod at the ache inside her.
Lord Beccus made his way unerringly to Cassia. She would have to endure the encounter.
He put a hand to his broad jaw and looked her up and down. “Well, well. Look who is not where
she ought to be.”
Cassia cast her gaze downward in a modest pose. “I beg your pardon, my lord?”
“As we speak, our mutual friend Ferus is exhausting his horse so he may join you for a dance in the
east. You’re at the wrong festival, girl.”
“I am precisely where my father wishes for me to be.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” He made to take a step closer, then took one look at Knight and remained
where he was. “That beast looks like a frightful dance partner. Say you jilt him and take a turn with
me instead.”
She kept a hand on Knight’s shoulder. “You have not asked my father for permission to dance with
me.”
He smiled broadly, leaning toward her. “Come now. You won’t ever get away from the wall
thinking like that, mouse. Just a little dance. Ferus wouldn’t want me to leave you lonely while he’s
away.”
Indeed, he would want his friend to occupy her on his behalf, to advance his case and discourage
other suitors. My, what a compelling advocate Lord Beccus made. “I must decline, my lord.”
He hooked his thumbs in his belt, dangling hands callused from sword work at a girth swollen
from too much ale. “A little less caution, and you can escape your father and have yourself a
husband.”
“The king’s authority is absolute.”
“I see how it is. Nothing like a challenge to keep Ferus wrapped around your little finger. You
certainly know how to tempt a man.” Lord Beccus chuckled low in his throat. “Well. You stay in your
tower, my lady. You can count on Ferus knocking it down as soon as he returns.”
At last he sauntered off and let her be. Knight growled at Lord Beccus’s retreating buttocks, and it
was a wonder the man walked away with both of them.
The ordeal was over. That should make it easier for Cassia to control her stomach. She distracted
herself by returning her attention to the crowd.
The leaders of the embassy made her curious indeed. They were not of remarkable height, but
undeniably of great stature. They appeared mature and in their prime all at once. Lady Hippolyta’s
dark auburn hair fell all the way to her ankles, adorned only by one braid of the palest blond that ran
over her brow like an athlete’s headband. Master Ambassador Argyros was equally elegant, but far
more solemn. His gaze was dark, his hair clearly the source of the token Lady Hippolyta wore.
Like all the male Hesperines, his chin was shaven, but his hair was the longest. Bound in a single
thick braid with a shot of dark auburn woven in, it nearly touched the floor. He wore a medallion of
office and a mantle of silver silk embroidered with a tablion of white flowers Cassia could not name.
He was too striking to be either handsome or beautiful. She would have called him for a mage, rather
than a warrior, had she not known him to be neither. His stillness marked him as a Hesperine.
Perhaps the length of a Hesperine’s hair was an indication of age. If so, Deukalion was indeed the
youngest among the Hesperines, and the only one who wore no braid.
She scanned the crowd again. She was not mistaken. Deukalion was nowhere in sight. Had he
issued such a bold invitation only to withdraw?
“Good evening, Lady Cassia.”
Any other voice speaking so suddenly beside her would have made her startle and, given the state
of her stomach, most likely gag. But Deukalion’s words eased into her hearing so smoothly she did
not jump.
She looked to her right. He stood but a pace away.
Then the velvet beauty of his voice wore off, and she realized two things. He had used his power
to present himself without startling her, and what he was doing in this moment was sheer madness.