When Archie and Gwyneth were gone, clearly entranced by the idea of the ice-carved chess set, Simon turned his piercing gaze to Ru. “Now then,” he said, “what will it take to mend your infectious and, quite franklyunattractive, bad mood?”
Ru lifted her mug, inhaling the sweet vapor of her spiced wine. “Nothingyoucould do.”
Simon looked indignant. “I could very well move worlds for you, sweet sibling. Though I do hope you ask for something a bit less… heavy. Your favorite tune, perhaps? More wine? A dance?”
“Robes,” Ru said. “White robes. Like the ones the Children wear. Three of them.”
The corners of Simon’s grin quivered, the only sign of his distaste. “And whatever would you want with those hideous things?”
“Do you really want to know?”
He made a face like he’d swallowed a fly and refused to admit to it. “Of course not,” he said, his tone clipped. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He glanced away, and his expression changed to one of gleeful anticipation. “Speaking ofdreams, guess who’s coming this way? Want me to get rid of him for you?”
Ru glanced over her shoulder and saw that Taryel was striding darkly through the lamplit courtyard, his furry cloak billowing out behind him. The hair on her neck prickled, though not in fear.
“I’m perfectly capable of handling him myself,” Ru said, almost believing it.
Shrugging, Simon began to strum a new tune and sauntered away into the party. Ru watched him go, the picture of colorful gaiety, and her chest tightened. She hoped he would come through for her and not ask questions.
“What’s your brother saying about me now?” Taryel asked, coming up to stand beside her. A smile played at the edge ofhis mouth. Like everyone else at the party, he wore thick layers of fur, though, unlike Ru, he was bare-headed. A few stray snowflakes clung to his hair, crystal against black waves.
Staring pointedly into her wine in an attempt to avoid falling into his gaze, Ru said, “Take a guess.”
“Nothing good,” Taryel said, chuckling. “Shall we make the rounds together?”
She glanced up at him, and couldn’t help but return his smile. “We ought to give the people what they want.”
“Taryel Aharis and the Keeper of his Heart,” he said and offered his arm. “The Marchioness will be overjoyed.”
“The Marchioness was happy about the Destruction, so I’m not sure she’s exactly difficult to please.”
Pain and mirth creased his face in equal measure as he choked a laugh. “She came up to me earlier with tears shining in her eyes, going on about how wonderful I was. Called me one of the great artistic voices of our time.”
“Artisticvoices?” Ru echoed, allowing Taryel to lead her in a slow, almost aimless route through the party. Simon’s music drifted past them, light snowfall painting everything in glowing ethereal hues.
“She’s having difficulty transitioning from the mindset of a progressive patron of the arts to religious fanatic, apparently.”
Ru snorted.
“Ah,” said Taryel, stopping short. “Here she comes now. Want me to distract her while you escape?”
The offer of escape was unexpected, a small kindness. She tightened her fingers around his arm. “No,” she said. “We’ll do it together. Give her a little show.”
And then the Marchioness caught them both in her bright gaze. “Aha!” she cried, rushing forward. “Look at you both, a vision. Astounding. Heavenly.” She pressed a hand to herbosom. “I cannot bear to look upon such beauty, such power, suchromance.”
Taking Marchioness Cantilla’s hand, Taryel bowed over it and kissed her knuckles. “We are honored, your grace.”
As the three of them exchanged greetings, a small cluster of party guests began to form around the Marchioness, watching with expectant, wide-eyed gazes. Ru realized that they had stopped in front of the ridiculous ice sculpture of Taryel.
“Won’t you kiss her for us?” the Marchioness said, glancing eagerly at Taryel. “How holy such a kiss would be, a passionate embrace between Taryel and the very Keeper of His Heart.”
“Yes!” cried out some of the gathered party guests, the number of which was growing by the moment. They were in raptures at the prospect, some of them pulling at their clothes in agitation, others fanning themselves with limp hands.
“Kiss her, Lord Aharis!”
Ru’s stomach curdled in sudden dread as Taryel’s arm snaked around her and pulled her close. He wouldn’t, would he? Not like this, in front of all these people. After all the parties they’d attended, never once had he crossed a line like this.
She stiffened against him.
