Eli felt a blush creeping over his face. “I’m just from the country.”
The man lowered his voice as he poured a glass of water. “So am I. Yves, from the House of Onyx. Need a drink?”
Eli shook his head. “I’m…Arthur. The House of Onyx as in Laurent de Rue’s business?”
Yves grinned. His smile was infectious—he probably had a string of heartbroken nobles pining over him. “Sure, business. He’s paying me extra to walk around and look pretty for a few hours, if you can believe it.” He slipped an arm through Eli’s and led him away from the drinks table as though they were old friends. “You don’t want to chat up Miss Felice, by the by. She’ll have you whipped for looking at her wrong, and it isn’t the fun kind of whipping.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Are theregoodnobles to watch out for, or are they all unpleasant?”
“Delauney’s a peach,” Yves said. Eli smiled, despite the sour feeling Felice’s rejection left behind. Delauney was a naval captain and had always been kind to Eli when he visited. “Oh, you know him? It’s your expression,” he added, when Eli stared.“Anyone who’s met him tends to look the same way. He might even be here. Let’s find out.”
“No, that’s fine,” Eli said, twisting round to see if Rey was still nearby. Rey, who was still by the entrance, turned just in time to meet his panicked gaze and started moving toward them.
“It’s no trouble,” Yves said. “Look, there he is. Lord Delauney!”
Eli wanted to sink into the earth. Lord Delauney, like Felice, hadn’t changed at all. His face was still slightly weathered by the sea, accentuating the lines of his jaw and cheekbones, and he beamed when he saw Yves.
“Don’t you look like a walking scandal?” Delauney said as Yves stepped in to embrace him. “Broken any hearts tonight?”
“One or two.” Yves smiled coquettishly at Delauney. “Yourself?”
“One or two.” Delauney winked. “And who is your—” He stopped once he saw Eli, his face going pale. Yves’ smile froze as Delauney staggered back a step, one hand reaching for his jacket as though it were suddenly too tight.
“This is my new friend Arthur,” Yves said, and Delauney went, if anything, paler still.
Eli twisted round to look for Rey, who was only a few paces behind. Rey ran to catch up, panting slightly.
“Arthur?” Delauney narrowed his eyes at Eli. “But surely not. You couldn’t be. You’re so young, and Arthur… he…but your eyes…”
“Art’s an old friend,” Rey interrupted. His voice took on the same tone it had when he spoke to Isiodore in the street, and Eli could feel the magic starting to fill the air, thick as a storm cloud. “Just an old friend. If he looks like someone you used to know, that’s just a coincidence. In fact,” he added, as the strange feeling grew around them. “I think it’s best to forget all about it.”
“Oh, yes,” Delauney said, in a dazed voice. “I’d prefer that.”
“Sorry?” Yves blinked slowly. “What were we doing?”
“You were getting this man a drink,” Rey said, and the magic in the air snapped like a string breaking. Yves nodded several times, and Delauney’s gaze slipped past Eli as though he weren’t there.
“Right,” Yves said. He hooked an arm through Delauney’s. “Let’s get you sloshed, you menace.”
“Thank the spirits you’re here,” Delauney said, still sounding slightly distant. They meandered toward the drinks table, and Rey sighed.
“Are you all right?” Eli asked. “What did you do to them?”
“I encouraged them to focus on something else,” Rey whispered. He took another flute of champagne from a passing servant and downed it. “I can influence people a little if I try. I had to brute force my magic this time, though. Did he recognize you?”
“I don’t know.” Eli lowered his voice. “I think he thought he was looking at my father.”
“Oh.” Rey touched Eli’s arm, a gentle gesture that threw Eli off. He was still so used to being alone that deliberate touch felt strange. “How are you? Do you need to go back?”
“It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” Eli wasn’t sure how to feel. No one had ever mistaken him for his father before. “Let’s see if we can find Sabre and talk to him about a sword.”
“If we can. This place is like a house full of peacocks. It’s hard to tell who’s who.” He started toward a crowd of younger nobles, and Eli drew back. If Delauney saw the de Valois line in Eli’s face, who else would make the connection before Rey could intervene?
“I heard there’s another Melville here. Dear me, you poor soul.” A shiver ran down Eli’s back as Olivier Blanchet appeared at Rey’s side. He was just as pretty as he’d been five years ago, but his clothes were a little less fashionable, and his shirt hadn’tbeen pressed. It made sense—Lord Blanchet had likely died before naming an heir, which meant Olivier was too far down the line of succession to inherit, as the youngest of five. He had a particularly nasty older brother, Eli remembered. There was no chance of Olivier seeing a copper of the Blanchet fortune if he had to wait for his brother to step down.
“Even I forget half of our names,” Rey said, as Eli approached from behind. “But you’re not much better. You're a Blanchet, yes? I see the signet ring. How many country cousins do you have?”
“Don’t ask, please. I’ve been having such a pleasant night.” Olivier glanced at Eli, and his gaze passed over Eli’s face and settled on his clothes before moving on.
