The darashi oyun took place one cool evening just three months after my khahar-de. The intricacy of the scenery—from the gold leaves scattered about to mimic a forest clearing to the sparks of silver diamonds hanging above us to resemble stars—took my breath away. I plumbed the air for traces of the spells made to enhance our surroundings, to instill a sense of awe and wonder in those less attuned to the magic, but found none. Asha take the darashi oyun seriously, and to resort to such tricks cheapens the performances.
But many of those who attended did not hold themselves to such standards, and the magic they wore on their clothes and hair was nauseating to my senses. The crescent amethyst hairpin in my hair was sufficient enough to ward off the worst of those spells, but I could feel them all the same.
The first of the hua Rahim made for me had arrived the previous day, and I was dumbstruck by his skill. It was of a beautiful emerald green, with silver leaves in fan-shaped patterns around my waist and down one side. It complemented my dark-gray under robe and my white waist wrap, which had embossed outlines of doves at play. Lady Mykaela told me it was a typical hua that apprentices wore; I would have more control of the designs I preferred after my debut. Besides the crescent pin, I wore a dark-green tortoiseshell comb in my hair and one of the silver hairpins Likh had first picked out for me, a jade design with a tail of tiny, white streamers that brushed against the side of my cheek.
Seeing royalty in the audience was a common sight at the darashi oyun. Nobles have been honored guests at these dances for hundreds of years—since the time Vernasha of the Roses performed for Mushan, the then-emperor of Kion. Being subordinate asha apprentices, we occupied seats in the middle row. The nobles occupied the front, while asha not participating in the dances took the seats behind them. The rest of the populace, those who could afford to splurge on money to attend, took up the rear. I spotted my sisters Mykaela and Polaire on my left, with Lady Shadi a seat behind them, and saw Zoya’s friends on the far right. Althy sat with Empress Alyx farther up front. Some of the older asha were seated together with the nobles, conversing with them like old friends.
My history lessons served me well here—I recognized Czar Kamulus of Tresea and his queen. I saw the regal King Rendorvik of Istera and his three sons; five representatives of the Yadosha city-states, led by First Minister Stefan; and the Queen of Arhen-Kosho and her daughter, the Princess Maeve, who had talked cruelly about Lady Mykaela at the Falling Leaf. Mistress Parmina was seated next to one of the Yadosha representatives, and something he said made her chuckle out loud.
I was nervous. As was tradition, the stage was open to all who might wish to dance before the program commenced. Already several children had taken command of the stage, pirouetting and giggling in their best gowns. Few people in the audience paid them much attention.
My heart beat faster when I caught sight of a familiar dark head as he sat two seats away from Empress Alyx and the unmistakable figure of his father, King Telemaine, a row before him, whose loud voice could be heard wherever you sat. Beside the king was his nephew, Kalen, still dressed in black as before.
“What’s wrong?” Fox asked when I gripped his arm. An exception had been given for my brother, and he was allowed to sit beside me at the very end of the row.
“Prince Kance is here!” I said happily.
“Of course he is. Even the czar of Tresea has come to watch—if that really is the czar. I can’t tell underneath all that fur.”
I opened my mouth, but my witty rejoinder died at the sight of Prince Kance engaged in deep conversation with Princess Maeve, whose laughter was unmistakable despite the noisy chatter around us. She placed a hand on his arm and drew closer so that her head hovered over his shoulder.
I forced myself to look away and stared hard at the stage where an old woman was performing the Rise of the Sea Foam in jerky, half-remembered steps.
“I met a girl once when I was in the army,” Fox said. “Her name was Gisabelle, and she was from Tresea. She was the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, with the lightest yellow hair and the most fetching blue eyes. Her brother was a fellow soldier in the same regiment I was in, and because we were stationed for three months in Batlovo, their hometown, she visited us often. It took me two weeks to work up the nerve to ask her out. I finally made up my mind one day and bought flowers from the local florist—only to come across her kissing Maharven—another fellow soldier but someone I had disliked long before. I was depressed for weeks—”
“Fox, your romances with Tresean girls are the last thing I want to think about.”
“But you should. It was difficult to see them together, especially when Gisabelle had no idea how I felt. Especially because Maharven was a rot, you see. Drank too much and could be nasty to the locals if he thought they were beneath him—he had some royal Daanorian blood on his mother’s side, or so he claimed. But I couldn’t. I had a motive for seeing them apart, and she would know it if I broke them up, however good my reason would be.”
I watched Fox out of the corner of my eye. He too stared straight ahead, at the now-empty stage.
“It got better when we had to leave, and I didn’t see her as much. But from time to time, Maharven would get a letter from her, and I would feel jealous all the same. Just because I didn’t see her as often didn’t mean I didn’t forget.”
“But it’s difficult all the same.”
“It wouldn’t be natural if it wasn’t difficult.” He reached over and tapped at my heartsglass. “Just remember what Lilac had always told us, what Lady Mykaela always tells you.” And then his eyes widened, and he bit back a curse.
I turned to follow his gaze and spotted a familiar-looking girl now seated between Prince Kance and Empress Alyx. Prince Kance immediately turned to her, and it was obvious that Princess Maeve was not pleased. It took me a moment to remember where I first saw her, another second more to realize who she was. While I was taught to recognize the semireclusive Empress Alyx by face, my lessons did not provide as much emphasis on her children.
“The girl you were arguing with at the castle.” I gasped. “You’ve been fighting with Princess Inessa?”
Fox blushed for the first time since we entered Kion. “It’s complicated. I didn’t realize who she was. I thought she was just another—”
“Didn’t realize? Fox, are you hearing yourself?”
“It was a misunderstanding. I was hoping she wouldn’t be here—”
“Of course she is,” I said, echoing his previous words. “Even the czar of Tresea has come to watch—if that really is the czar. I can’t tell underneath all that fur.”
Fox glared at me, but the drumming began. The rhythm was not a part of the main asha performance. People craned their heads to look, puzzled. And it was then that Likh danced into view.