A statement I had no idea how to respond to. He stuck out his hand. “Agreed.”
I hesitated, then gripped his fingers. And wasn’t surprised that the indefinable something surged between us again. His eyes darkened fractionally, and I had to wonder if what he was feeling was even more sexual in nature than the mix I was receiving.
“Agreed,” I said softly, and then pulled my hand from his. “Is there anything else I should be aware of?”
“While the Rossi house is hosting this year’s Harvest Masque, all six upper ruling houses provide accommodation for the lower ruling houses and their entourage. Because I was a late and unexpected inclusion in this year’s festival, we are being hosted at Rossi, as my suites had already been allotted.”
“We?”
Again that smile ghosted his lips. “As my informal lover, it would be considered a breach of etiquette to house us separately.”
“Except that Lady Saska knows the truth of our relationship.”
“Actually, she doesn’t.”
I studied him for a minute, listening to the wind, hearing her tales of the machinations that had begun from almost the minute he’d saved us. “That’s why you took me back to your suites for an informal chat.”
“Yes. The wind was watching us that night.”
“What the wind witnessed wouldn’t exactly have led Saska to believe we were in a relationship.”
“Except for the fact I dismissed my maidservant and we spent much time in companionable silence. That is the province of old lovers, not new.”
I wondered what he would have done had it been any other Nightwatch officer who’d been sent after Saska. But maybe it wouldn’t have mattered, given all he really wanted was a fresh pair of eyes to view those from the twelve houses?
“The masque itself lasts for two and a half nights,” he continued, “and it is in this time most of the political and committal alliances are made.”
“Why just then? Why not over the whole five days?”
“Because just as the equinox signals the end of summer days and the slip toward winter, it also brings to an end any formal entreaty and marriage negotiations between the houses for another year.”
“So the other two and a half nights are just a party?”
“Yes. We will keep to our rooms during the day. The official revelation of identity comes at midnight on the night of the equinox, which is when we will officially be introduced and thanks given.”
I frowned. “So how are we introduced before that?”
“Merely as Lord T and Lady N.”
“Which, combined with the colors you’re wearing, will tell everyone exactly who you are, mask or no mask.”
“Yes, but it will heighten the intrigue of who my consort might be, because your colors offer no allegiance other than the green that denotes our liaison.”
Which explained why he was wearing the knot of lavender gray at the end of his belt. “That intrigue will only last as long as the official introductions.”
“I think not.” He glanced out the window as the carriage began to slow. “Our bags will be taken directly to our quarters. Don your mask, Lady Neve, for the game begins.”
The carriage came to a halt. I looked out the window as we waited for the door to be opened, butterflies gathering in my stomach. What little I could see of Rossi House was a vast white stone and silver structure that was both imposing and beautiful. It was a house designed with impossible angles and sweeping curves, and one that would fall in an instant if our enemies ever got this far.
But if they ever did, the ruling houses wouldn’t be here to see it. They would have already retreated, leaving Winterborne a deserted wasteland in much the same manner as they had Tenterra, to start anew somewhere else. Such an eventuality had even been factored into the building of this place, with the creation of a sea canal that divided Winterborne from the rest of Gallion. Vast earth and stone bridges might now connect us, allowing easy movement between the two, but none would be hard to destroy. Not for a combined attack from the ruling houses that were responsible for their existence in the first place.
The door was opened and Trey, his mask in place and revealing little more than the glitter of his eyes and the fullness of his mouth, stepped out. He immediately turned and held out his hand. “My lady?”
A smile twisted my lips, one that seemed to be echoed in his eyes, but I nevertheless place my fingers in his and stepped carefully from the carriage. He released me but remained close, and as a young page bowed and asked us to follow him, pressed his hand lightly against my spine to guide me. My attention, whether I wished it or not, was both on him and the impact his touch was having on my body rather than all the wonders that had been built onto this plateau.
“Rossi House,” Trey murmured, as we climbed the long, sweeping stone staircase, “like all other ruling houses, cedes the entire top floor of their home to entertainment. Guest suites and private wings are on the second, while the ground floor consists of kitchens, washrooms, and serf accommodation.”
“It would be nice to have the leisure of such space.”
“Do not judge by surface appearances,” he said. “It can often be deceiving.”
“I somehow think your upbringing contained a whole lot more freedom and choice than mine ever did.”
“Perhaps,” he said, his tone heavy. “And perhaps not.”
A liveried footman met us at the heavily ornate double-width silver doors atop of the stairs and led us through a vast open space of glittering white-stone walls and high-vaulted ceilings. The colors of all twelve houses adorned the left side of the long room, and a multitude of tables filled with food and wine lined the right. We moved past two large parlors that were fitted for comfort and ease taking, before finally stopping on a landing that looked out over a ballroom that was even bigger and grander than the hall. There were no flags or adornments on these walls; there was no need for them when the guests themselves provided a rainbow.
The footman stopped, and then said in a loud voice, “The lord T and the lady N.”
Just for an instant, conversation ceased and the weight of all their stares hit. I trembled under the force of it, my skin cold and stomach churning. I didn’t smile. I didn’t react in any way; unattainable was the word Trey had used, and that impression was what these people were going to get. It was, I suspected, the only way I was going to get through the evening.
After an altogether too long a pause at the top of the steps, Trey lightly pressed me forward. I was glad of his steadying touch as I concentrated on moving gracefully and not falling. The murmur of conversation started up again, and some faces turned away from us. Most did not.
The next five hours became an almost dizzying array of introductions and small conversations. He didn’t leave my side in that time, giving me the chance to fall into my role. And while it didn’t become any easier as the hours passed, I did at least feel better once my nerves were under control. But I certainly wouldn’t go as far as saying I was enjoying myself. Not when I kept waiting for the moment someone would denounce me as the fraud I was.
Trey captured two glasses from a nearby drink boy, and handed me one with a smile. We were standing in one of the quieter corners of the room, a shadowed and half-hidden nook.
“How do you feel about circulating by yourself for a little while?”
“Terrified.” I took a sip of the dark wine. It tasted of blackberries and plums, and though it was slightly more acidic than the one Trey had served, it nevertheless tasted damn fine to my palate. “But I’m not here for my looks.”
He gave me a quizzical look. Or, at least, that’s what it appeared to be given the constraints of the mask. “Why are you so harsh on yourself when it comes to appearance?”
“Because when it comes to appearance, it’s all I’ve ever been judged on.” My gaze met his, and I could feel the old anger stirring. “Have you any idea what it feels like to know, from a very young age, that while you might be considered beddable, no one will ever commit to you?”