And he’s chatty. Lovely. At least it’s an opportunity to learn more about the Fellrian visitors.
“Don’t look at it too hard,” Daromir says. “Someone might think you want to steal it. Can you guess what the previous chandelier was made of?”
“What?” Mori asks, then winces. “Wait, I probably don’t want to know, do I?”
Across the room, the herald announces several more arrivals. Vana would know whether they’re important or not, but one name stands out even to Daromir. Count Petir Bernek is already flushed, his dyed red hair askew. He heads towards a wine table.
“Depends,” Daromir says, tracking Petir’s movements. “How much do you like to sleep at night?”
“Sleep is my dearest hobby, so let’s skip the horror stories.” Mori folds his arms over his chest and leans awkwardly against a bookshelf. “Do you hate parties too? I expected to be the only one lurking in the corner.”
Really talkative for someone who claims to be lurking. Daromir relaxes as across the room, Petir takes his new wine glass and joins his friends near the musicians. Far away from Vana.
Count Petir Bernek is another consequence of the Rakos Tem incident. He was Irenka Miraz’s lover, more or less. As far as Daromir knows, Irenka strung Petir along with lots of hope and little reward. Petir was never a particularly astute man, but since Irenka’s death, he’s become unstable. Rumor has it his sister has taken over management of their county, while Petir has taken over the wine cellar.
“I’m working, not lurking,” Daromir says. “What do you do for Lady Naoko, anyway?”
Mori sighs. “I’m basically her diary. She’s writing up a journal of her travels in Draskora, but she has to talk to too many people to properly observe everything. She brought me along to pay attention to everything too. If she forgets what the chandelier or the crown molding looks like, I can describe it for her. Then she writes it down like she noticed it herself. I wouldn’t have agreed to come if I knew how seasick I got, mind you. Boats are terrible. Have you ever been on a boat?”
“A few times,” Daromir says, paying more attention to Lady Naoko separating from King Imrik. She takes a glass of sparkling water instead of wine and moves slowly around the edges of the room. Here and there she leans into the glass-doored shelves, as if drawn to particular titles.
“Dreadful, aren’t they? I bet you all get most places on dragons, though, don’t you? I wonder if that’s better or worse than boats. Probably better, once you get up there, but the ‘getting up there’ part seems absolutely—oh, drat.” Mori straightens up as Naoko continues towards them. “Nice meeting you, Lord Daromir, but I need to go observe more things!”
He stumbles again over the same woven rug and manages not to bowl over his employer on his way towards the musicians.
“My apologies, Lord Daromir,” Naoko says. “Was Mori bothering you?”
“Not at all.”
Unlike her diary-servant, Naoko clearly has a knife under her coat, but she doesn’t move like a trained fighter. Not a direct threat at the moment, so Daromir continues scanning the room. Vana is speaking with Imrik now, the king’s hand heavy on his shoulder. Vana’s expression is unreadable, and Daromir regrets that he can’t send an ice-blade flying across the room to knock Imrik’s hand away.
Naoko examines the tapestry of Buthel the Unhinged. “You’re very reticent, aren’t you? Most guards or servants would follow that up with, ‘is there anything I can do for you, my lady?’”
“Would they? I’m not most guards.”
Queen Aliza selects a book from a shelf across the room, then wanders from the room trailed by discreet guards. Prince Kazia takes a single sip from his next wine glass, then abandons it and leaves the room as well. Petir Bernek nearly drops his wine glass, then scowls at the friend who attempts to take it from him.
“So I’ve heard.” Naoko purses her painted lips. “Which is why I’ve been meaning to speak with you alone. I’m surprised to get the chance so quickly, actually.”
Thatcatches Daromir’s attention, and not in a good way. “I don’t work for House Dire or the palace. I can’t help you with anything.”
Across the room, Vana briefly catches Daromir’s eyes. He looks unhappy—a slight tension in his jaw that nobody else would notice.
“I want to know more about Prince Vana,” Naoko says. “As I’m sure you want to know more about me.”
Daromir does want to know more about Naoko, but he isn’t interested in an equal trade of information. “I’m the worst person to ask that, Lady Naoko.”
“You’re the closest person to him. Who better?”
“I’ll tell him anything you ask,” Daromir says. “If that’s all right with you, ask away.”
Naoko still seems delighted by his prickliness, which is doubly infuriating. Daromir wishes he didn’t have to be slightly polite to everyone at this party. Usually, nobles do him the courtesy of ignoring him when they’re supposed to.
“You don’t like me,” Naoko says.
“It isn’t my job to like people.”
“Is that so?” Naoko sips her water. “Actually, your job is exactly what I’m interested in. From an academic perspective.”
