I nod silently as wave after wave of nobles and nobodies surges in to offer condolences. No one cares that I’m moody and morose; they simply want to make sure they’re seen paying their respects and getting that tick mark in the brownie points column. Molli steps up silently and places a gloved hand in the crook of my arm and simply stands there, a warm presence at my side. I twinge once more at the way she had to come find me, nigh begging for her due as my longtime friend. I’ve underappreciated her, and it’s only now, when there’s no chance of turning back, that I understand how much I’ll miss her when I’m gone.
It takes not quite two hours before the veritable assembly line ends. “Finally,” I mutter to Molli. “I’m utterly parched.” I lift a flute from a passing bot and down the entire thing before turning to peek over my shoulder at Saber. Proof of their good breeding, not a single person asked me about cosmetics tonight, but I suspect that Saber’s doing brisk business in my wake. Indeed, his messenger bag looks quite flat now. I’ll have to find a way to restock him from my still exceptionally full pannier pockets.
Unexpected respite comes in the form of Lord Aaron, who sidles up next to me and laughs quietly. “Finally rid of the scheming hag, eh?”
Molli gasps at his words. Trust Lord Aaron to be so bluntly honest, even if his words do feel like a blade to my battered heart.
“You seem jovial,” I say instead of actually answering. Because I don’t know what the answer is.
“Indeed, I am, thanks to you. Well, perhaps more appropriately, thanks to Sir Spencer, who has been…sharing. Whatever is that shimmery rubbish you’ve been giving me for three months? The other is much better.”
I turn to him with wide eyes, too shocked to speak. But as I observe him more closely, the signs are unmistakable. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated, and the flush in his cheeks tells me he’s floating right now. I recall having had the thought that Sir Spencer was acquiring quite a lot of Glitter the last week or two. Now I know why. I grip Molli’s hand, just to reassure myself that she’s there.
“I tell you, I never had any use for sports,” Lord Aaron says, eyes still sparkling, “but now? I’ve seen the light, Your Grace.”
He must be high; he never uses my title.
“One-on-one wrestling, fencing, even horseback riding. So much potential for body contact, a good excuse for sweat and short breath, not to mention a masculine respect which I shall never comprehend. Why, Sir Spencer and I have both suddenly discovered we were born for sport. Who knew!”
Lord Aaron has always been prone to fits of mania interspersed with weeks of depression—but this is a whole new level of chipper, a mood so bright it seems to oversaturate even the vibrant emerald of his brocade waistcoat. Which very nearly clashes with his mauve velvet jacket. This is what Glitter does to him. I feel like I’m flailing in black water, with no light to show me which way I should swim. I don’t care that his lack of inhibition has led to him finally dallying with Sir Spencer a bit. I hate that he’s using, I hate that I can tell, I hate that he doesn’t even know. I’m so trapped in indecision I can’t move.
“I may find it in me to compete!” Lord Aaron says, flinging his hands in the air and, in doing so, splashing the front of Saber’s embroidered livery with the entire contents of his glass.
Saber sputters as the champagne begins to soak into his clothing, and Lord Aaron makes a gasping sound, depositing his empty flute on the tray of a very conveniently passing bot. “So sorry, my good man. I suppose I’ve had a few too many, eh?” Lord Aaron says a bit too cheerily.
Saber is silent, but his eyes are shooting daggers at Lord Aaron that seem more personal than the offense should justify, and I can’t help but feel that I’ve missed something.
“Come, come. The least I can do is assist you in getting an appropriate change of clothes. Molli, dear,” he says, removing her hand from my arm and kissing it twice. “You’ll make our excuses, won’t you? Back in a trice. Come, both of you,” he says, striding away before she can argue.
I turn and glance at Molli as Lord Aaron drags me along, and I cast her an apologetic look, but she’s smirking.
“Finally,” Lord Aaron says in a far less exuberant tone once we’ve cleared the main crush. “You can’t tell me you didn’t want to escape for a few minutes.”
“I thought that was what the ladies’ retiring room was for, and a best friend who’ll take the blame for its need.”
“Sometimes, yes,” he answers evasively. “Now, you, good man, where are your quarters?”
Saber hesitates, and I feel a flush work its way up my neck to my cheeks. “Actually, he stays in one of my rooms.”
“Oh, does he?” Lord Aaron says, the vibrancy back in his voice.
“It’s temporary,” I say sternly. Which is true. Because we’re running away soon.
“Hmm” is the only response I get from Lord Aaron. He turns toward my bedchamber, and we walk silently through two rooms before he whispers, “I suppose you’ve figured out I have ulterior motives for spiriting the two of you away. Your friend here is out of the rouge that I want, and he informed me—rather brusquely, in point of fact—that he’d have to find a private moment with you before he could satisfy my request. Thus,” he says, gesturing between us, “a private moment.”