Despite his family not being ennobled, they’d been invited because their company was one of the largest and most successful in Ashion. Only a handful of merchant families had been extended the invitation, and they’d accepted before the Clockwork Brigade had targeted one of their trains.
Caris had gone to the shops with her mother yesterday for last-minute purchases before the ball. She’d heard the whispers trailing in their wake about the Clementines and the scrutiny that family now faced. All manner of rumors were percolating through high society, and Caris wasn’t immune to it, having accepted Nathaniel’s attention, if not formal courtship, for years. Before she could be reunited with him, her family and the duchess’ had to get through the formalities of arrival.
The palace was brightly lit by gas lamps in sconces and in crystal chandeliers. The artwork on the walls consisted of pastoral scenes from Daijal, because Ashion was landlocked and had no coast or dense forest its citizens could cavort through. The painted scenery transitioned into cityscapes with airships flying above, but Caris didn’t recognize the places.
She did recognize the portraits of the Daijalan royal family that preceded them into the ballroom. Her gaze lingered on the one of Crown Princess Eimarille, the artist having made every effort to include imagery of Daijal and the Iverson bloodline within the painting. As if he could erase Ashion’s past staring out of the princess’ eyes here in this place.
Caris ducked her head slightly as they passed by the portrait and entered the ballroom proper. The who’s who of high society filled it from wall to wall. Music from a dozen orchestra players huddled in the corner and overseen by a conductor was a counterpoint for the chatter filling the air. The noise picked up with their arrival as the guests nearest them recognized the duchess.
No formal announcement heralded their arrival, but one wasn’t needed. The duchess stood out amongst the crowd and always would. Caris and her parents followed in the Auclairs’ wake, and the duchess never forgot they were there.
Caris took a champagne glass from the tray of a passing server and took a small sip. Dancers waltzed on the black wood of the ballroom floor while those not asked or not inspired to huddled around it in little groups.
Lore stayed by Caris’ side when her parents were drawn into a conversation with another family as new to a title as they were. Whenever she went to one of these events, Caris was never left alone for an instant. Over the years, the duchess had introduced her to nearly every Ashion bloodline in existence.
All save one.
The loud crack of a staff against the floor at the end of the waltz cut through the air. Every head turned toward the double doors that had been closed at some point. The dance floor cleared in moments, with everyone jockeying for a spot up front as politely as possible.
“Announcing Her Royal Highness, the Crown Princess Eimarille Rourke,” the majordomo of the palace called out in a deep voice that carried.
Uniformed servants smartly opened the double doors with a flourish, allowing the crown princess to enter in a swirl of silver fabric, escorted by the prime minister. The ball gown Eimarille wore sparkled from thousands of crystals embroidered on the skirt, like tiny stars that flickered beneath the light.
Her blonde hair was twisted back in a neat, formal bun unadorned with any combs, the sleek and simple style a backdrop for the diamond tiara she wore. More diamonds were wrapped around her throat in a choker, layered loops falling over her bare shoulders. The white, above-elbow-length gloves she wore offset the silver of her gown.
Behind her came the royal entourage, and Caris wouldn’t have cared about any of them, except Lore leaned close, pitching her voice low beneath the furious sound of everyone clapping.
“They say the princess never goes anywhere without the Urovan. I’ve heard it’s said she acts as the princess’ voice at times,” Lore said.
The words were barely louder than a whisper, and Caris had to strain to hear them. She stared at the woman in question, one whose ice-white gown was a complement to Eimarille’s. Her long black hair had been swept back by combs and curled. Her escort was the prime minister’s son, who looked absolutely besotted with the woman, but Caris noticed how the lady never took her eyes off Eimarille.
“They say her words cut like a blade.”
Caris stiffened slightly at the phrasing, careful not to let anything show on her face. She didn’t look at Lore, because everyone was looking at Eimarille, and to do otherwise was to draw attention. The clapping hadn’t stopped, and Eimarille basked in the reception she was given, beautiful in an icy way that Caris didn’t trust.
The music started up again, and the crowd surged forward to fill in the space. Lore looped her arm through Caris’ and pitched them in the opposite direction, well away from the crown princess and her entourage.
“Let’s see about finding something to nibble on. Remember the last time you drank on an empty stomach?” Lore said.
Caris grimaced at the reminder and eyed what remained in her glass. “Yes, let’s find something to eat.”
Dinner was to be eaten under the stars in the palace gardens in the hour after sunset. To tide people over, servants were tasked with ferrying trays filled with finger food around the ballroom. Lore waylaid one such servant and picked up a thin wedge of toasted bread with a spread of some sort on it. She passed it to Caris before taking another.
“I haven’t seen Nathaniel yet. Have you spotted him?” Caris asked as she nibbled on the toast. The spread was minced fish heavily mixed with a dense cheese and flavored with dill. It was tasty.
“He should be about.”
Lore kept them moving, pausing every now and then to chat with someone when drawn into a conversation. Caris held up well enough, but mostly everyone was talking about finding a wife or a husband for their children who’d yet to be married.
“I’m sure we’re boring you, Lady Lore,” Lady Sylvie Bloyer said with an impolite smile. “All this talk about husbands and you’ve yet to marry.”
Lore returned the viscountess’ smile. “I’d rather marry just the once, and I’m willing to wait to do so.”
Caris covered her smile with her champagne glass as the viscountess could say nothing to that jibe, having been married five times in her lifetime. The woman was a notorious social climber. She’d hoped to nab a duke and a title when she was younger, but the most she’d ended up with was a viscount who, if rumor was correct, spent far more time with his mistress than in their marriage bed.
The pair chatted a few minutes longer before taking their leave, continuing their circuit of the ballroom. When they made it to the set of double doors that led into the large hall of crystal and mirrors, a replica from the old palace, Caris was grateful to leave the music behind.
“Shouldn’t we pay our respects to the crown princess?” Caris asked. The last time Eimarille had been in Amari, Caris had been taking exams and couldn’t get away. She was overdue for an introduction.
