AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Luisa, tired of her companions speaking in Castellani, gave an aggrieved sigh just as Lilibet finished speaking.
“You must clap for the Queen’s speech,” Kel whispered, and brought his own hands together, though it was not quite etiquette for the Crown Prince to applaud. Luisa copied him quickly. The musicians began to play again, and the twang of aliorfilled the hall as Lilibet took her seat.
Through the servants’ doors under the arches, a stream of performers in bright silks and gold braid began to enter the room. Pleased murmurs ran up and down the table: These were dancers, calledbandari.They wandered the Gold Roads, affiliated with no particular country or language, dedicated to their art. They wore tight-fitting silk jackets that ended just below the rib cage and low-slung trousers in sheer silk. Gold satin slippers completed the outfit.
They performed with their hair unbound and intricate belts of coins wrapped around their muscled waists. It was said that abandaridancer saved a coin from each performance and looped it on a chain; the length of a belt indicated how long the dancer had been plying their skill.
The Court at Jahan had its own troupe ofbandari,and Lilibet was a particular enthusiast of the art. She applauded as the dancers entered the room.
“Must I clap again?” Luisa whispered; Kel shook his head. The decorative trees and greenery had been rearranged to create a cleared space for the dancers to perform; he had an excellent view of the “stage” since the chairs opposite him were empty. “No need yet,” he said. “Only do as I do, and do not worry.”
He wondered if the sight of the dancers would bother her,considering what had happened at Roverge’s party. She seemed only charmed, though, at the sight of them. Indeed, they were beautiful: lithe and carefully put together as if purpose-built for graceful movement. Unbound hair—fair and scarlet, black, and brown—cascaded down their backs.
Vienne was not looking at thebandaridancers; she was regarding Kel with the same puzzled look on her face.I must stop being kind to the child,he thought, yet he knew why he was doing it—it was what Conor had done for him, when he had first come to the Palace. Showed him which fork to use, told him when and how to speak. Luisa was a child, as he had been; he could not leave her to flounder.
Yet still, he felt a prickle at the back of his neck—as if the force of old memory had sent a shiver up his spine. He turned and saw a flicker of movement at the back of the hall. A cloaked figure had come in through the golden doors and stood regarding the room. His hood was up, shadowing his face, yet Kel knew his step, his gait, as he knew his own.
Conor.
Kel could only stare as the Prince made his way into the room. The dancers were still moving about, as were a few servants carrying bronze bowls of rosewater, apparently needed for the performance. Up in the gallery, the musicians tuned their instruments. No one—not even Jolivet or Mayesh—seemed to have noticed Conor save Kel.
All his life, Kel had been trained to do as Conor would do, anticipate his actions, guess his likely responses. Conor was in the shadows, but to Kel he was plain enough. He could tell that Conor was drunk—drunk enough to require a hand against the wall as he walked, steadying him.
But not so drunk that he did not know where he was, or what he was doing. He was making his way determinedly toward the high table, as if he intended to take his place there.
Kel could not bear to think what would happen then. He could excuse himself, he thought; he could slip into the Victory Hall, but even then—
Conor had reached the arras, was walking alongside it, one bare hand trailing along the tapestry ofThe Marriage to the Sea.Above him, the fast strumming of theliorsignaled that the dance was about to begin. Luisa gave a gasp of delight as the lamps dimmed. Silver and black gauze scarves began to tumble from a hidden opening in the ceiling. The room was no longer a forest. It was the night: the iron of stars, the obsidian of the sky. The dancers, in their shining finery, began to move across the floor. It was a dance of constellations, Kel realized: The dancers would be comets, meteors, and asteroids. They would be the air that caught fire between the planets, the brilliant and unexplained debris of the universe.
They would be adistraction.
Murmuring something to Luisa, he slipped out of his seat, leaped silently down from the dais, and crept behind the high table. He slid along the length of the wall beneath the gallery, his every sense on high alert. Music poured through the room; the air was full of glittering scarves, and the dancers spun a glimmering path across the floor. Conor had paused, his back to the tapestry, to stare at them. Kel sped up, caught hold of him by the jacket he wore beneath his cloak, and dragged him behind the arras.
One carcel lamp illuminated the bare stone alcove behind the arras; the tapestry fell into place, concealing them, as Conor struggled for a moment.
“Con,” Kel hissed. “It’s me.It’s me.”
Conor went limp. He sagged back against the wall, his hood falling away to reveal his face. He wore no crown, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He wasn’t slurring his words—he wasn’t drunk enough for that—but he was half whispering. It was hard for Kel to hear him over the music. “I left you. I thought I was leaving them, but I left you.”
Kel, still holding on to the front of Conor’s jacket, said, “What did you think would happen? Though I suppose you didn’t think. Conor—”
“I thought they’d cancel this fucking party,” Conor hissed. “I thought they’d realize—I know this has to happen, it’s politics, it can’t be changed, but all thispretense,these lies that we’re happy about it—that anyone is besides whoever stands to profit: a few politicians and merchants—” Kel saw the motion of his throat as he swallowed. “I didn’t think they’d make you do this.”
“This is my duty, Conor,” Kel said, wearily. “My charge. I pretend to be you. Of course they’d make me do this. And you shouldn’t be here.”
Conor put his hands flat against Kel’s chest. “I want to make it right,” he said. “Let me switch places with you. I’ll go out. Do my duty.”
Kel wanted to ask him what had happened, why he’d left so abruptly and come back the same way. Why now, today? But now was so incredibly, utterly not the time. He said, “Con, you’re drunk. Go back to the Mitat. Go to sleep. I’ll tell you what happens. It won’t be much.”
Conor set his jaw. “Switch with me.”
“It’ll make everything worse,” said Kel.
Conor flinched. And for a moment, Kel remembered back down the years, the boy with the light behind his eyes, who’d said to him playfully:What was it like, then, being me?
When had that light gone out? Had he noticed the moment? Conor’s eyes looked like bruises in his face now, and there was a pinched tightness to his mouth. Half of Kel wanted to shake Conor, to scream at him; the other half wanted to stand in front of him, protecting him from every dangerous thing in the world. Not just blades, but lies and cruelty, disappointment and despair.
