But once it’s done and the music strikes up again, Adalbrecht snaps for Franziska. Before I realize what’s happening, she’s been dispatched to fetch Emeric. He trots over, looking positively miserable. “You called, sir?”
“You’ve barely danced a step, boy.” Adalbrecht grabs me by the elbow. “Surely you won’t refuse a turn about the room with my bride.”
“Oh, er, sir, I wouldn’t want to—” Emeric’s playing up the nerves, but I can spot a flash of annoyance. We all know this plain, schoolyard kind of malice. Adalbrecht wants to rub Emeric’s face in what he can’t have.
“Wouldn’t want to?” Adalbrecht echoes, teeth baring in that true, terrible smile. “Are you saying my bride isn’t to your liking?”
“Of course not. I—I would be honored.” Emeric bows and holds out a hand as Adalbrecht pushes me forward. I let Emeric lead me onto the floor, ignoring the snickers from the likes of Irmgard and Sieglinde. (Sieglinde has managed to convince her husband to let her glue a topaz on her face after all, just as she’d threatened. It’s hideous.)
“What,” Emeric grits through his teeth, “did yousayto him?”
Long, piercing notes soar through the air, striking up a pavane.Ugh.The entire point of the pavane is to show off what you’re wearing and who you’re dancing with. Since Emeric’s only in a slightly nicer version of his uniform, I’ve no doubt Adalbrecht arranged for that as well.
“I said I’d stomp on your toes if we danced,” I hiss back. “Because he noticedyouwere staring at me.”
We fall into two lines of dancers, each couple facing ahead, hand in hand as they glide forward. Emeric already looks pained, and I haven’t even managed to kick him in the shin yet, like I’m aspiring to. His voice stays low enough not to carry beyond us. “I was watchinghim.”
“It’s not like he’s going to stab me in the middle of the ballroom.”
“How sure are you about that?”
We split apart, weaving back through the other dancers before meeting again. This time we have to stand facing opposite directions and walk in a slow wheel.
“Sure enough.” That’s a complete lie, but I’ll be a stone-cold corpse before I concede a point to a sentient fireplace poker with an undeservedly high opinion of itself. I lift my palm to his. “Follow my lead.”
“I know how to dance.” Emeric sounds faintly insulted.
I give him a dubious look. “Where doesthatfall in the prefect curriculum?”
We switch hands and directions. “It doesn’t,” he says curtly. A beat passes before he elaborates. “My sister lost most of her sight when we were young. She wanted to learn and needed a partner.” I scowl at him, and his eyes narrow. “What.”
“I can’t make fun of that, you inconsiderate ass,” I grumble. “But if you keep looking like your teeth hurt, Adalbrecht won’t stop making us dance until he can get you to cry.” Emeric frowns deeper, and I roll my eyes. “Justtryto look like you’re enjoying yourself. I know the pearls are helping.”
He deftly whirls me out of the way of a careening Ezbeta von Eisendorf, who is making a strong case for the virtues of abstinence. Emeric’s face has gone from outright misery to an uneasy discomfort. All he says is “Not the way you think.”
Before I can interrogatethatfurther, a cheery, brazen run of notes riffs off the unmistakable strings of a Sahaliankoli. Joniza strolls onto the stage, gold paint flashing on her lips and on her fingertips as they fly. The piper she’s interrupting looks both delighted and furious, and I have to agree with her earlier assessment: Her archnemesisisunreasonably handsome.
Just like that, it’s a musical duel. Joniza’s striking up a jovial galliard, but the piper keeps trying to wrest the song back to the stately pavane. And the ballroom floor ischaos, as no one knows which dance to stick to.
Just as we planned.
That’s our signal. It’s time to start the game.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Self- Evident
Emeric drops my hands like hot coals.
I try not to take that personally, craning around him to make sure Adalbrecht’s distracted. “If he asks, I—”
“Went to powder your nose, I know. Go.”
There’s a line at the privy closest to the ballroom, which we expected. I make a show of frowning and hurrying off, headed for a different privy farther away, just off the entrance hall.
No line. And Gisele is waiting for me inside.
You see, some of the musicians have assistants to carry their instruments, stage costumes, songbooks, and so on. Gisele might have been recognized at the ball, but no one, especially no one like Irmgard, will be looking at the servants.
