Page 115 of To Touch A Silent Fury
My aunt looked perfect as always. Her deep russet hair looked lightened by the Tanmer sun as it pulled back into a low chignon, with an elegant navy dress which showed off her pale Sightlands skin. But her eyes, narrowed and yellow, gave away her malice.
“I see.” I waved a bored hand in their direction. “And he dances with our guest, it appears.”
She raised a brow. “I am surprised she can dance at all.”
I barked out a laugh, falling back into the role I had played my entire life. Only today, I felt utterly stifled by it, even sitting outdoors. “She must have had some lessons over the last few nights.”
The princess’ eyes flashed. “I have word the Brother was seen in the gardens with her earlier today.”
I stiffened. Did he know, as I was certain Septillis knew? Or was it simply a coincidence? “Why would he visit her?”
She narrowed her eyes. “The report said he was on his knees.”
It could not be. A Brother would not propose to her. How many admirers had she gained in the Eavenfold? From what I had seen, our Septillis was the only one who had spoken with her. A spike of jealousy rose up my throat, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking back to the pair. Theollan bent his head to speak into Tanidwen’s ear. She smiled and responded, her steps clumsy but correct.
Then I returned my gaze to my aunt. I would not look at them again; she had already caught me watching, and it would not do for her to know my partiality. Everything I had ever wanted was used against me. Braxthorn might lay the order, but I knew who whispered in his ear. I wouldn’t let them have her, too. “I do not understand.”
“I think it is clear enough,” she replied, her voice quiet and her mouth moving behind a wafting black fan to keep her lips from the eyes of any who would dare to read her. “Theollan must have heard of her and her dragon. His young prince is unwed and looking for any way to claw beyond the dreary politics of Lavendell fisheries.”
“You think he has proposed?” I asked. “On behalf of Prince Eamallan?”
“The longer the girl remains here, the longer she will stir intrigue. This is only the first viper of many.”
I hummed. A proposal from the Scentlands might have nothing to do with Eavenfold, then. At least it would get her out of Droundhaven, and away from my family. “Maybe Prince Eamallan isn’t so bad of a match.”
Derynallis’ retort was flat. “I’d rather see the girl dead than see her take her runtish lizard to another land.”
My skin felt cold for the first time since I’d landed on the roof. I wondered if Princess Derynallis knew the irony. If I was destined to desire Tanidwen in every form, it seemed my aunt was destined to want her dead. “The Scentlands are our allies.”
“How stupid are you, Langnathin?” she asked. “Do you not understand how hard your grandfather worked for that alliance? The sacrifices your father has made to keep it?”
I scoffed. Aunt Hyamis was the true sacrificial lamb of the family, married off to Canenrill before I was born. Whatever my father did to secure that deal was little more than a bartering of flesh, no different from his approach to the Brotherhood. “Oh, his sacrifices have been grave indeed.”
Her hand shook in her lap. If I had dared to say the same thing in a more private environment, she would have boxed my ears as cleanly as my father had earlier. Only, hers would have hurt more; it usually did. I did not mind her rage, so long as she pegged me for an ungrateful prince acting out, and looked no further into my life.
She glared at me. “Mark my words, the girl is trouble. I will not see her ruin our plans with a treasonous marriage, nor will I see her worm her way into our family.”
I nodded slowly. “She is impressionable and uncultured. If we sway her to accept a more favourable match, I am sure she will agree.”
“I hope you are right.” Her quivering hand steadied, and I allowed myself to breathe out. “In any case, we must act fast,before the Euphon marries herself to some upstart powdered boy.”
Again, I forced a laugh. “Tell the king, not me. I have no influence over her suitor.”
The dance ended, and I allowed myself the smallest of looks. Tanidwen dipped her head to Theollan, leaving the dancefloor on his arm.
Princess Derynallis watched her with no such reservations, and even the billow of her fan would not hide the open hostility in her eyes if anyone was watching. She waved at me, clearly bored of my conversation. “Go dance, there are far too many women awaiting your favour.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
I stood with relief, happy to be away from her serpentine presence even if I knew the alternative was a simpering suitress. It went without saying that I could not dance with who I wanted. But I glanced around the room, finding Lady Bellandric was still the closest and probably by no accident. I offered her my hand for the next dance, and she took it, shooting a surprised look over her shoulder to her peers.
With every sweep of her purple skirt, I observed the room, replying to her attempted engagements distractedly and with no wit. The Wragg danced, predictably, with the Lady Elissa. He was determined to grant favour to anyone I so much as sniffed at, but at least it would distract him from the true prize in the room.
Tanidwen stood beside a pillar, taking in the air with a cup of wine as the sun began to set behind her, casting its pink and orange hues against her. Strangely, unfathomably, I hoped it was the same Vintarrun syra I had been drinking. The idea of us drinking the same wine was tantalising, though I hadn’t the wit to express why.
Theollan still accompanied her, but I noted she had made a new acquaintance, speaking to a brunette woman in a deep blue gown. I swirled Lady Bellandric so that I could see the moment Tanidwen moved to take a drink. My heart skipped a beat as she shifted the beads to the side and poured the liquid past lips coated in a golden shimmer. I swallowed along with her as I identified the other woman.
Princess Margot. Tanidwen laughed at something she had said. Even from a distance, I could tell it was forced.
