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Sir Velus’s amused snort coaxed a smile from her. “Spoken like a true sibling,” he said. “Taking instruction is the hardest thing for a student of any endeavor to master, and some resist more than others.”

The wisdom of those words settled within her and stayed. “You have your challenge then with Sodrin.”

“You know he’s said something similar about you.”

She scowled. “Is that so?”

Their conversation was interrupted by Lord Uhlfrida’s sudden appearance in front of them. “Jahna isn’t trapping you here with her is she, Radimar?”

Her father’s thoughtless question robbed Jahna of breath. Had she trapped the swordmaster here with her awkward attempts at witty conversation? Did he only linger because of her relationship to her father and his own sense of diplomacy?

Beside her, Sir Velus stiffened and his voice was much cooler than it had been a moment earlier. “No, my lord She was just telling me how much her brother looked forward to his training.”

Uhlfrida nodded, swirling the wine in the chalice he held before taking a swallow. He dabbed at his mouth with a silk handkerchief clasped in his other hand. “So he is, which is why I want to discuss something with you regarding his lessons.” His eyes flickered over Jahna. “Jahna, you should be dancing.” It was more command than suggestion.

Jahna bowed her head. “Yes, Father.” It was futile to remind him that to dance in this arena, a woman had to be asked, and her chances of that happening were non-existent. Even if some aristocrat’s son approached her, she’d refuse. She knew of the standing wager among her peers. Whoever managed to coax or trick ugly Jahna Uhlfrida onto the dance floor would win a sizeable sum.

Satisfied with her ready agreement, Uhlfrida clasped Sir Velus’s arm. “Come, I’ll retrieve Sodrin so we can talk.”

The swordmaster executed a short quarter turn toward her which served to shake off Uhlfrida’s grip. The move was subtle, unnoticed by Uhlfrida himself, but Jahna noted it. The glint in Sir Velus’s eyes confirmed it. He bowed a farewell.

“Thank you for your insight, Lady Uhlfrida. I’m eager to start training your brother.” He left out any reference to other parts of their conversation that might provoke a litany of questions from Jahna’s father.

“Enjoy your evening, Sir Velus.” She offered her father a quick smile. “You too, Father.”

He acknowledged her valediction with a grunt and gestured for the swordmaster to keep pace with him as they braved the crowd toward the still dancing Sodrin. Jahna sighed. Poor Sodrin. He’d come to the Delyalda festival to revel, not spend the evening listening to their father’s lectures.

She was in front of the great hall’s doors when a dreaded voice halted her.

“Interesting choice of color for your gown, Jahna. It matches your…skin tone.”

Evaline had finally cornered her. Jahna was tempted to rush across the threshold and flee to her rooms, but logic kept her feet planted. Her persecutors would only follow, their lust for entertainment at the expense of her misery stoked to an even hotter fire by the chase.

Jahna schooled her face into an expressionless mask and slowly turned to face Evaline. As she expected, the girl stood flanked by her ever-present sycophants. They had shed their cloaks and hoods to reveal colorful dresses trimmed with ribbon and beads.

Evaline’s blue gown highlighted her blonde beauty, and she shimmered like a sapphire under the flickering light of the numerous torches and candles set in the walls and niches of the great hall. Nadel and Tefila likewise wore vivid gowns in shades of crimson and yellow. To Jahna, they looked like a cluster of jewels—beautifully faceted and hard through and through.

By contrast, Jahna wore dove gray, the hem and cuffs of her long sleeves decorated in silver and black embroidery. The seamstress had sewn a hood to the frock at Jahna’s request, and she wore it pinned to her loose hair Evaline’s remark that the gown matched Jahna’s skin tone might have stung if it hadn’t been so predictable.

Evaline raked her from head to toe with a withering gaze. “I hear your brother will learn the sword from an Ilinfan swordmaster. He’s handsome enough if you squint the right way, so why in the gods’ names is he talking to you?”

Jahna sighed inwardly.Please let them grow bored with this quickly. “I don’t know.”

Nadel’s toothy smile reminded Jahna of the mountain cats that stalked the forested cliffs surrounding her father’s estate. “Maybe he feels sorry for her.” She laughed at her own jibe and Tefila joined her.

Evaline didn’t laugh, and her blue eyes were cold enough to skate across as she stared at Jahna. “Not sorry enough. He didn’t invite you to dance with him.”

Jahna had observed Radimar Velus nearly the entire evening. He hadn’t asked anyone to dance with him. She knew she’d regret it, now or later, but she replied anyway. “He didn’t invite you either.”

Evaline’s snide expression froze. Her nostrils flared, and Jahna braced herself to dodge a slap that didn’t come. Lord Lacramor’s “whelp” clenched her teeth and curled her hands into fists. She breathed in audible pants.

Lord Uhlfrida was of higher status and greater importance than Lord Lacramor. Jahna knew it. So did Evaline. To outright physically attack Jahna where witnesses abounded carried repercussions on a grander scale than a juvenile spat between the young daughters of two powerful noblemen.

Jahna didn’t look away as a seething Evaline stared daggers at her before visibly wrestling her fury under control. She raised her head, nose in the air and gave a disdainful sniff. “What good would it do me to spend my valuable time with a lowly baron’s son?”

Was he a baron’s son? Jahna had never heard of the House of Wemerc and assumed it was one of the families awarded noble status for outstanding service in the Beladine army. Leave it to Evaline to waste no time in finding out where her object of interest stood in the hierarchy.

She arched an eyebrow, committed now to the foolhardy venture of antagonizing the viper. “You’re spending time with me, and I don’t intend to offer for your hand.”