«I don’t,»Rain denied, then reluctantly recanted.«All right, maybe a little. A very little.»Who could completely dislike abanty little mortal brave enough to dare Rain Tairen Soul to do his worst?
Rain turned to Master Fellows. “Will you accept a compromise, Master Fellows? Permit me to read your thoughts with Spirit, and I will give you the use of my hands. You need only think what you would like me to do, and I will do it for you. Will that suffice?”
“I don’t know.” Master Fellows straightened his clothing and carefully smoothed back his hair. “I’m not sure I like the idea of having you in my head. What would it be like?”
“You would not know I was there. Simply picture in your mind how you wish Ellysetta to stand.” He plucked the images easily from the man’s mind and wove them in Spirit so Ellysetta could see, then made the smaller adjustments himself, tilting her shoulders and chin gently to achieve exactly the stance Master Fellows imagined. “Like this, Master Fellows?” He heard her breath catch as his hands touched her, felt her helpless rush of desire and the hot echo of it in his flesh. She might fear the tairen, but this much she could not deny. It gave him hope that the rest would come in time.
“Exactly! I mean”—the man coughed—“that will do nicely, My Lord Feyreisen.”
“I feel like a posed doll,” Ellysetta muttered.
“You look like a queen.” Fellows was right; she did have a lovely neck. Rain bent to press a kiss against the soft skin of Ellysetta’s throat. “You bring pride to this Fey,shei’tani.”
“Oh, but none of that,” Master Fellows objected, ignoring Rain’s frown. “Celierian courtiers may enjoy passion in private, but in public, they must observe all the proprieties.”
Ellysetta’s lessons in the graces continued throughout the afternoon. It was late when Master Fellows took his leave and hired a gentleman’s coach to carry him back across town to the palace, where he was promptly ushered into the queen’s private audiencechamber to give a report of his session with the Tairen Soul’s mate.
Queen Annoura was seated on a carved and gilded armchair, dressed to perfection and shining with a seemingly effortless combination of luminous beauty and regal grace that Master Gaspare Fellows knew had taken years of careful study to perfect. He’d still been an apprentice when the queen had first come to these shores, and he’d helped his old Master train her to take her place at King Dorian’s side. The lessons had ended when the old Master died, but by then Annoura had already been transformed from the reserved young princess so in love with her handsome husband into the Moon of Celieria, the Brilliant around whom the entire court revolved.
Lately, Gaspare had begun noticing changes in her: a hardness that had never been there before, a cutting edge to her wit. After the last four bells spent in the fresh, artless kindness of Ellysetta Baristani’s company, the difference seemed even more obvious.
Gaspare’s gaze flicked to the bevy of Dazzles gathered around the queen, among them many a grasping, brittle beauty like that sapphire-eyed jade, Jiarine Montevero. Youngest daughter of a poor, minor house, she’d ascended beyond anyone’s expectations to claim a seat in the queen’s inner circle and title to her family’s holdings after the untimely passing of her parents and older siblings. Beside her stood one of the queen’s Favorites, the handsome Ser Vale, who for no reason at all made the little hairs on the back of Gaspare’s neck stand up whenever the man’s vivid blue-green gaze was fixed upon him.
As it was now.
Gaspare threw himself into a deep, elegant bow. The bend of his knee was exact, the flourish of his arm a perfection of grace... except for the faint tremors which he hoped no one noticed. Ser Vale disturbed him. Almost as much as the Tairen Soul had at first, only with Vale, the unsettledness never went away.
When Gaspare straightened, he focused his gaze on the queen,not allowing so much as a flicker of a glance in Vale’s direction. That helped. A little.
“My Queen, you asked me to keep you informed of my progress with the young Feyreisa.” Forcing himself to speak in confident, well-modulated tones, Gaspare related the details of his interactions with Ellysetta Baristani and the Tairen Soul.
Annoura kept her grip on the armrests of her chair light as Master Fellows gave his report. She’d hoped he would return full of sneering condescension for the woodcarver’s daughter’s attempts to master the noble graces, but somehow the girl appeared to have won him over. Oh, he was careful not to sing her praises too loudly—Gaspare Fellows was too experienced a veteran of noble society for that—but Annoura could tell by what he did not say that he’d liked her.
“So, in your opinion, Master Fellows,” she said when he finished, “Ellysetta Baristani will be able to master sufficient graces so as not to embarrass either the Fey or my husband, at the dinner on Kingsday?”
“I believe so, Your Majesty.”
Conscious of the Dazzles observing her smallest reaction, Annoura kept her irritation well hidden. “Let us hope you are right. I realize I’ve set you a difficult task, Master Fellows. Turning a commoner into a lady fit for presentation to the heads of all Celieria’s noble houses is no small accomplishment—and to have only three short days in which to achieve it—well, just consider that a measure of my confidence in you.”
Master Fellows bowed with impeccable grace. “Nothing could give me greater pleasure than to be worthy of your confidence and regard, Majesty.”
“Excellent. We thank you, Master Fellows.” She fixed a coolly polite smile on her face. He recognized her unspoken dismissal and, with a final bow, excused himself.
When he was gone, Vale caught her eye. He’d been gone fromher court since that morning in the garden when he’d acted so impudently, and though it galled her to admit it, she’d missed him. Scarcely a year since he’d first joined the court, and already he was indispensable to her. How had that happened?
A mysterious, knowing smile lurked at the corners of his well-shaped mouth, and a tingling shot of energy raced up her spine in response. She’d seen that look before. He was hiding something, some naughty trinket or choice bit of gossip, and he was waiting for a moment alone to share it with her.
She shouldn’t let him. He’d grown too bold by half.
But she was still angry at the way Dorian had betrayed her this morning. She’d given him her love, given him years of devotion and loyalty and her tireless efforts to make him the most powerful king in the mortal world. And what had he done when asked to choose between her pride and his Fey kin? He’d chosen them. He’d thrown everything she’d ever given him back in her face.
She looked at Vale. This handsome man had made it clear in so many ways that he longed to serve and please her, that he would do anything for her.
A sharp staccato beat broke the air as Annoura clapped her hands sharply. “Out. All of you. Give me a moment.” She held Vale’s gaze for a steady, expressionless moment. His faint smile deepened—then was wiped away as he turned towards the door and exited with the rest of the courtiers. The door closed behind them.
Silence fell over the room. She drew a deep breath, her breasts straining against the tight confinement of her corset. Her heart was beating quickly. This was not wise. Dorian was not a jealous or suspicious man—she’d never given him cause to be—but many a courtier with whom she’d battled in the past would leap at the chance to disgrace her.
Nerves shrilling, Annoura rose from her chair. Across the room, the door through which the courtiers had exited beckoned. Already she was having second thoughts. She should leave. Now.Before she encouraged Vale’s improprieties any further and gave herself cause for regret. Before she gave her enemies a weapon to use against her.
