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Cassia gave them a smile and eased away from the embassy. She patted Knight in silent thanks for always being a wonderful excuse. They made their escape into the arcade that bordered the hall.
They strolled under the garlands, drifting through the music that filled the opulent chamber. Surely no one could keep from walking in time to the flutter of the drums. No one could resist the soft, teasing lyres, which promised the dance would soon begin.
The musicians’ invitation rose up through the grand hall to fall asleep amid a profusion of roses in the triforium above, or to ascend past the clerestory and take flight amid the ribbed vaults of the high ceiling. The notes echoed under the archways, by turns chasing and guiding Cassia along the arcade, then receded into the gloom beyond the reach of the spell lights.
She spotted a figure ahead of her in the half-shadow of the arcade. His height gave him away. Cassia grinned and cast a glance around her. The embassy’s backs were turned to her.
What a lovely opportunity to misbehave. She hastened toward her shadow lover. His reflective eyes and pale fangs invited her to join him.
Then his smile vanished. She perceived a quick shake of his head, and he was gone.
A sound reached her ears. She had almost missed it under the drums and lyres, the scuff of her shoes and the click of Knight’s toes. Footsteps behind her. The rustle of a robe.
Cassia directed her gaze away from where Lio had stood and moderated her steps. She proceeded halfway along the arcade, as if nothing were amiss, then paused to pet Knight.
The footsteps and rustling paused.
She turned around and meandered back the way she had come, her face calm, her heart pounding. She let her gaze roam the arcade between her and the embassy. Empty.
She made it all the way back to Callen and Perita without catching a glimpse of her pursuer.
“Better?” Callen cast an affectionate glance at Knight.
“Yes, much,” Cassia lied with a smile.
A cascade of notes summoned everyone’s attention to the dais, where Nodora’s fathers stood side by side. Elder Firstblood Kitharos, the Queens’ Muse, held his famous lyre. He was as pale, slender, and youthful as his statue, but in living color, far more cheerful, with glossy dark curls and a grin that bespoke the uninhibited joy he took in his music. Elder Grace Dakarai, with the build of a dancer and the deep brown complexion of an Imperial, gave them all a composed smile, a drum in his hands.
“What a delight,” said Kitharos. “It falls to our bloodline to mark the halfway point of this historic Summit, a milestone truly worthy of celebration.”
“But what is this?” Dakarai frowned, tapping his fingers over the surface of his drum. “Guests of House Kitharos, standing still? The Muses of Orthros have failed in our duties tonight, to be sure.”
Good-natured laughter went up among the Hesperines.
Kitharos winked. “Honored guests from Tenebra, tonight will be the most fitting of conclusions to this week dedicated to the arts, a true celebration of shared inspiration and evolving genius, a rare opportunity every musician must relish to immerse ourselves fully in a culture, a sound, a history—”
Dakarai gave his Grace an amused glance, his eyes warm with affection.
Kitharos cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. Not a lecture, though.”
The Hesperines laughed again.
“I mean to say,” Kitharos continued, “we will devote the entire evening to Tenebran songs and dances, just like you know from home.”
The Hesperines clapped. Cassia stomped her feet and managed to rouse her supporters, at least, to approve their hosts’ gesture. Even the Tenebrans who did not applaud breathed sighs of relief.
“Well, that’s only right,” said the Semna from a nearby bench. “If the young folk must dance, it had best be wholesome dances. Now, now, Pakhne dear, don’t regret that your dancing days are over. Your music at dusk rites in the temple is far prettier than anything here.”
Ariadne patted her fellow attendant’s arm in sympathy, looking everywhere but at Eudias. Cassia did them the courtesy of behaving as if she had not noticed. Her heart twinged. A world of obstacles stood between Eudias and the hope of someone who truly appreciated him.
Had Cassia just felt more than pity for a mage of Anthros? Yes, she sympathized not only with Ariadne, but with Eudias as well.
So be it. Cassia had chosen the Hesperine path, the path of kindness. She really did have it in her to stay that course.
“Midnight approaches,” Dakarai announced.
Booming tones shook the hall. Cassia looked up in delight toward where the bells of House Kitharos must reside out of sight. The tones of midnight reverberated through the air and the stone and her bones.
The rest of the embassy signed glyphs behind their backs, but for once, Cassia did not endeavor to hide her enthusiasm. Her crimson gown emboldened her to heresy. If the others wondered at her brazenness, their small minds would attribute it to some notion of females’ thoughtless love for fancy dances and pretty flowers.
