Page 22 of Blood Slumberm

She led him down a back street where servants hustled to and fro, then along a stucco wall that bristled with warding spells. Pausing in the shadows, she brought out her spindle again.

Her eyes flashed, and her brow furrowed with effort. “Rixor has strengthened the wards since my day, but not enough.”

A hole spread in the spells directly in front of them.

“Hurry,” Celandine said. “Help me over.”

He pulled her against him and levitated them over the wall. She made a small sound of surprise.

“Did you think I would merely boost you and expect you to climb, when we could do things the Hesperine way?” he asked.

“You are a handy fellow to have while breaking into my own house.”

Her manor was a sweeping complex of rounded arches and broad porticoes surrounded by lavish gardens. Peacocks roamed between tall stone fountains and topiaries. All the elites aligned with the Pavones were descending from their litters near the front entrance, where guards in teal, green, and black admitted them one by one.

Troi and Celandine avoided the front gates and the guards’ questions. He eased back his veils, leaving in place only the spell that would protect her identity. They melted into the guests already idling in the gardens as if they had been there all along.

He fought the urge to loosen his collar. The emotions of the attendees were running high and would only flow more freely as the alcohol did. He was choking on mortal passions and woes. Not least the volatile feelings churning in Celandine as she returned to her stolen home.

She ached with betrayal, although her tone was cool and haughty. “Well, all my former friends are in attendance, dancing on Rixor’s strings and drinking his wine as if I’d never been here. I hope they all poison each other.”

“I’m sorry, Celandine.”

She looked at him, her brow furrowing. “Are you sure you’re all right? Was your drink before we left not enough?”

“I don’t need blood,” he assured her. “It’s simply that…well, I haven’t been among this many people in a hundred years.”

She hid a laugh behind her hand.

“How glad I am that you’re amused, Your Highness,” he grumbled. “I’d like to see your reaction if everyone’s despair and longing and anger felt like a constant ocean you were drowning in.”

“If forced to endure this Blood Union you’ve told me of, I fear I’d have committed murder long before tonight.”

“Where will Rixor and Kaion be?”

“Kaion will not attend something so worldly as a ball. We’ll have to wait until the banquet to get at him. Rixor will be mingling with the guests, and then he’ll join the dancing. He likes to make a grand entrance, the bastard.”

“Let us make our grand entrance first, then.”

Troi listened for a break in the music. In the quiet between two songs, he escorted Celandine through the broad open doors into the candlelit magnificence of the great hall.

The first murmurs from the edge of the crowd reached his ears, sweeping closer and closer until the gossip became a whispered wildfire around them.

“Everyone longs to know who the princess in purple is,” he said.

“Aren’t they curious about the prince in black and gold?” she asked.

“Oh, they think I’m all right. But you are captivating.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

“I know you like the truth,” he told her.

He paused to give their false names to the herald, who announced them to the room. “His Highness Magnus VIII, Prince of Clementia, and his wife, Princess Aurelia.”

Curiosity surged in the auras around them. Men and women took their positions for the next dance, sharing wild speculations. As Troi lined up with Celandine, heads turned.

The minstrels in the gallery struck up the Widow’s Weave, and Troi had to admit he was glad for Celandine’s dancing lessons. When they began to move together, every eye in the room was on them.

---