A moment after the prince was heralded, the murmur of guests in the ballroom silenced. Their energy rose in a crescendo of intrigue—and a dash of disdain. They had anticipated who was to come next. “His High Nobility, Monsieur Floquart de Bonpré,” the master of ceremonies announced. Anton stepped away from the double doors, not bothering to approach the dais as custom dictated, and in the place he vacated stood the emissary.
The fashion in Estengarde must have been monochromatic elegance, for the gentleman wore only pale hues of gray: his silk waistcoat; his ballooned breeches, gathered at the knee; the hose on his legs; and his cunning heeled shoes, complete with satin bows. Lace dripped from his collar and the cuffs of his sleeves. And his hair, fastened at the nape of his neck, was flocked with an abundance of white powder.
The emissary advanced down the aisle of parted nobles, his entourage of similarly dressed Estens behind him, until he reached the foot of the emperor’s dais. There, he bowed with a flourish, his hand somersaulting through the air.
The emperor stood and grinned. “Monsieur de Bonpré.” Valko’s horribly affected Esten accent made me bite down a smile. “Welcome to Torchev, the heart of Riaznin.”
Floquart glanced about the room as if it summed up the city. I remembered my amazement when I’d first set eyes on the great hall. It was nothing like the emissary’s expressionless gaze upon the ballroom, an equally dazzling space. Perhaps everything was a blur, and he needed a monocle. “Very charming,” he said, his voice jarringly low in register. I’d expected the high pitch of a bell for how daintily he dressed. But beneath his fussy exterior, I noted his broad shoulders, bulging calves, and large, vein-ridden hands. His aura, above all, demanded respect. I sensed even Valko shared my intimidation, despite the emperor’s puffed-out chest.
“Please be seated,” he said to Floquart. “You must be weary from your journey.” Valko motioned to a pair of servants, who brought forth a silver chair and set it on the vacant side of the throne. I clasped my fingers in my lap, sat up higher on my stool, and tried not to feel spurned.
A wave of disgruntlement echoed from within the Riaznian nobles. Valko had broken protocol twice tonight—first by allowing me on the dais, and second by inviting a foreigner to accompany us.
The emperor was oblivious to everyone’s prejudice, and I carefully let their auras slide off to the fringes of mine. There I kept them in painstaking balance as I endeavored to hold on to all of the skill I had practiced over the past few weeks.
After the emissary was seated, Valko motioned to a servant, who brought forth two goblets on a silver tray. Giving one to Floquart, the emperor took the other in his own hand. As he raised it before the assembly, the orchestra’s grand polonaise came to an abrupt halt. Glancing about the ballroom, I noticed the majority of the guests had procured a cup in anticipation of the emperor’s toast. I turned around for a servant to bring me a glass, but their trays were empty.
“Welcome, lords and ladies of Riaznin, friends from within our borders, as well as friends from beyond!” Valko’s voice bounced off the marble floors. “I will not bore you with a long and arduous speech,” he assured them with a smile. “I know the reason you have come tonight. To celebrate! So drink with me and let the dancing begin!”
The people cheered in unison and tossed back their aqua vitae, sending a jolt of energy up my spine. At the snap of the conductor’s baton, the musicians’ bows crossed their strings to the tune of a cheerful Esten waltz. My palms flared with a zing of panic. Without thinking, I’d promised the emperor a dance, though I’d never learned more than the skirt-swaying undulations of the Romska. Leaning forward on my stool, I studied the couples as they revolved and revolved and tried to memorize the rhythm of their feet, the position of their hands.
Valko, who had returned to sit on his throne, made a slight movement. I tensed, expecting him to rise again, this time to guide me to the dance floor, but he only shifted closer to Floquart. As they engaged in a private conversation, I slouched with disappointment. How quickly the emperor had disregarded me. I tried to shrug off my frustration. It was just as well. His attentions would be dangerous with so many people watching. Besides, I had more important things to concentrate on.
Turning my attention back to the room of nobles, I studied them, felt their heightened arousal at the occasion of holding someone close in the name of a dance. I cast my awareness deeper for what might be lurking beneath their obvious emotions. I needed to be sure they didn’t bear any danger to the emperor. Fingering the pearls, I willed the sting to keep me grounded as I searched the ballroom for the foreign diplomats.