Kyra let him guide her through the revelers, frustrated that he’d read her intentions so easily and wondering how much he’d overheard. “Can we go somewhere quieter at least? I can’t stomach much more of this.”
“How about here, by the wall?” He guided her to a space far enough from any posted guards to give them a semblance of privacy. “We can watch the dancing.”
She nodded gratefully. Kyra started to lean against the mirrored walls but stopped when she saw Tristam standing straight. He gave her a faint smile. “Lean against me. I’m plenty sturdy, and the servants don’t have to polish me at the end of the evening.”
Kyra had to laugh at that, and she took his offered arm. They made quite a pair, the two of them in their finery, behaving in what must have been an incredibly unsociable way.
“Are you all right?” Tristam asked after a while.
Kyra nodded and found that she was indeed feeling better. “I’m used to Willem’s barbs by now.”
“Willem shouldn’t have spoken like that, undermining our own people to Edlan officials. It’s not even a matter of decorum. As Head Councilman, what he did was unacceptable.”
“I suppose he just really dislikes me.” Kyra tried to make her voice light, but Tristam just shook his head.
“No. Willem is too much of a politician to let his own feuds leak through to his official duties. He had a reason for saying what he did.”
“And what was that?”
“I can’t know for sure,” said Tristam. “But Malikel’s been gaining favor in the Council. He’s been pushing an initiative against corruption in the Palace, and he’s been convincing the other Council members. Perhaps Willem is trying to push back.”
Across the room, Willem was enjoying a brief moment of solitude, attended by the same unusually pretty serving girl who’d refilled his cup before. The girl smiled at Willem, tilting her head as she refilled his glass, though it was clear to anyone with eyes in his head that her true function involved more than simply pouring wine. She wore the usual undyed linen dress of Palace serving women, but she’d cut it to a tighter fit, and the collar was much lower than the usual modest cut. The girl had accentuated her already striking features with a hint of kohl and berry stain, and she had the kind of figure that made men stop in the streets. Willem didn’t even try to hide his glances at her cleavage as he leaned over to speak in her ear.
“Doesn’t he care about word getting back to his wife?” Kyra snapped. She scanned the ballroom. Kyra didn’t know what Willem’s wife looked like, but she must have been present at such an important event.
It took Tristam a moment to discern whom she was talking about. “From what I hear, his wife has her own line of companions. Theirs was an arranged marriage.”
“Is that how it’s done with nobles? A marriage for politics’ sake and a plaything on the side?” Kyra didn’t bother to remove the distaste from her voice. Flick had come from such a union. His father had enjoyed his mistress’s company and then abandoned her when illness took her beauty.
Tristam’s gaze went to her face and lingered there a moment before he carefully replied, “It’s commonly done but it’s…frowned upon. Many couples do try to make it work. My parents had a political marriage, but they now love and respect each other deeply.”
Willem’s serving girl sidled up closer to him, and the Head Councilman put a possessive arm around her waist. Kyra turned away. “I can’t watch them carrying on like this. How can any serving girl stand to be that close to him? It turns my stomach.”
Tristam looked at her in bemusement. “I’ve never seen you react this strongly to Willem, and he’s done some pretty despicable things.”