Fortune and Fate (Twelve Houses) (49 page)

“Then goodnight, Willawendiss. May your dreams be peaceful.”

She nodded, said nothing more, and paced out of the room. But she didn’t think
peaceful
would describe any of her thoughts for the rest of the evening.

Chapter 25

TWO DAYS LATER, IT WAS TIME TO HOLD A BALL. THERE
was so much cooking to be done that Ginny was called up from the barracks to help in the main house, so Orson and Eggles took over kitchen chores for the soldiers, to universal complaining. But the grumbling was almost rote. All the guards were alert and engaged, excited to be taking part in this event that would be a true test of their skills and how well they had come together as a company.

Wen was fairly certain they would pass that test without a misstep. She had laid out precise instructions about who was to patrol where at what hour during the day, and the soldiers met every checkpoint. Things would get trickier as the guests began pulling into the yard that night, but Wen felt fairly confident that she had set up safeguards that would see them all through the evening unscathed.

It was clear to her that this ball was even more a test for herself than her men. Ever since the harrowing conversation with Jasper Paladar, she had been edgy and unable to settle. All her instincts were at war, all her desires in conflict. Half of her wanted to flee this house, these responsibilities, the quiet regard of a certain noble scholar; half of her felt twisted with protest at the thought of leaving any one of them behind. Karryn was still so young, so prone to idiotic mistakes—how could Wen let her fend for herself, knowing the kind of trouble she might stumble into? And the twenty men and women of the House guard were showing such promise, such progress, and yet they were still so raw. There was so much more to teach them before they would truly function as a flawless unit.

And Jasper Paladar. Who knew her true name and had learned her most bitter secret. Who had wished her peace and called himself her friend. Who made her feel, when she was with him, like she was complex, intriguing, and valuable.

It was dangerous to believe such things were true. Dangerous to need someone else’s affection and approbation. Dangerous to be so grateful that someone, anyone, cared if she lived or died. That way lay vulnerability and weakness, and Wen needed to armor herself in strength.

But she did not know how easily she would be able to tear herself away from Fortune, Karryn Fortunalt, and Jasper Paladar.

She told herself she would not think about her dilemma again until tomorrow morning. Today she had a ball to oversee.

She had given each guard his or her own commission to carry out once the festivities began. Eggles and Moss had been assigned to Karryn—they would know where she was every single minute, even if she slipped outside to tryst in the garden with Ryne. Four guards would be at the gate; twelve would patrol the grounds in a random, ceaseless pattern. Wen and Davey would be loose inside the house from the minute the first visitor arrived. Davey would stick close to the dining hall and the ballroom, but Wen would roam the corridors, trusting chance and instinct to guide her to any spot where there might be trouble. Twenty was a small number for such a concentrated initiative, but there had been only fifty Riders to patrol the palace at Ghosenhall.

Of course, these guards weren’t Riders. But they would still fight for their charges with every ounce of their strength.

Accordingly, when the first carriage rolled through the gate in the hedge, all twenty guards were dressed in their best uniforms and ready at their stations. Wen thought the soldiers might be almost as excited as Karryn.

The Coverroes were the first to arrive, but Katlin and Edwin Seiles were right behind them, and soon enough the house was full. Wen peeked into the dining hall from time to time, to see Moss and Eggles standing at rigid attention on either side of the room, their eyes busily engaged in watching the diners. She stepped back into the kitchen, wheedled a scrap of meat from Ginny, and ducked outside to circle the house. No late arrivals galloping up the drive. No one scaling the walls, intent on breaking in through an upper-story window. She jogged to the gate, to confirm that all was quiet, then reentered the house through the main door, to rove the hallways and listen for anything out of the ordinary.

All indications were that Karryn’s party was going smoothly.

Wen was in the hallway watching as the dinner ended and the guests slowly made the transition to the ballroom. This was a part of the house Wen had rarely been in until earlier in the week, when decorating began in earnest. From the complaints she’d overheard from the servants, the room had been closed up for so long that it was inches deep in dust, and every bit of crystal hanging from the chandeliers and the sconces had had to be taken down and wiped by hand. But now it looked sparkling and magical, filled with hundreds of candles and thousands of sweet-scented flower blossoms—all white to represent the pearl of Fortunalt. A murmur of approval went up from the guests as they stepped into the room and began scattering through it like jewels pouring from a spilled coffer.

Wen checked to make sure Moss and Eggles had followed Karryn into the room—yes—and then she began making her own unobtrusive circuit. The orchestra scraped through a brief disharmonic warm-up, but quickly enough offered the first skirling notes of an actual number. Wen paused to see who was partnering Karryn for the first dance. She was surprised and pleased to see Jasper, not Ryne, leading the serramarra to the dance floor.

They made a handsome pair. Karryn wore a gown of very dark red with great slashed sleeves that revealed a weave of pristine white. The crisscrosses of white fabric were repeated in a wide band around her waist, making her look much tinier than Wen knew her to be. Around her throat she wore a collar of pearls from which a single large pearl dangled, encircled by garnets to match her dress. She was both striking and vivid, and she was so happy that she was also beautiful.

Jasper, of course, was much more soberly dressed, in black with a bit of red trim. But his cufflinks were pearl, and so were the buttons on his waistcoat. His beard and his hair had been freshly trimmed, and their black-and-gray colors perfectly suited his severe attire. If he had not been smiling down at Karryn so affectionately, he might have seemed solemn indeed. He said something that made her laugh, and then they glided smoothly into the dance.

Wen supposed it was a waltz; she didn’t know much about such things. At any rate, they were half-embraced as they moved with perfect timing through the deliberate rhythms of the music. All around them, other couples slipped onto the dance floor and mimicked those graceful movements. Ryne Coravann with Serephette Fortunalt. Coren Bauler with Lindy Coverroe. Edwin Seiles with his wife. Paired off, swirling around the room, the very embodiment of style and elegance.

Wen watched for the first dance only, then slipped out a side door. Time to check the rest of the house again.

For the next two hours, that was the routine she followed. Roam the house, upstairs and down, moving quiet as a raelynx through the empty corridors, and surprising more than one servant girl into nearly dropping her burden. Duck outside to circle the building and ascertain that it had not been breached. Return to the ballroom long enough to make sure no mischief had unfolded while she was not watching—and, just incidentally, note who was dancing with Karryn.

Sometimes, note who was dancing with Jasper.

Much of the time he stayed on the sidelines, acting the genial host. He was usually to be found in a conversation with some of the local men, discussing what looked like serious business, or laughingly enduring the interrogations of the older women. He only danced a few more times that Wen observed. Once with Katlin Seiles, who appeared to be a little in awe of him. Once with Serephette, who danced with the same majestic poise with which she did everything.

Once with Demaray Coverroe.

Wen stayed to watch the whole of that dance, which both participants seemed to be enjoying mightily. Demaray smiled up at him the entire time, except when she dissolved into laughter. Wen was not conversant with the rules governing social behavior in the highest circles, of course, but it seemed to her that Demaray clung a little more closely to Jasper than she really needed to. Even Edwin and Katlin were not hugging each other so obviously, and they, too, had paired up for this particular number.

Not that Jasper seemed to mind. He was gazing down at Demaray with that lurking smile that meant he was both interested and amused. Something she said made him throw back his head and laugh, loudly enough to cause others on the dance floor to look their way. When the music came to a dramatic conclusion, Jasper retained one of Demaray’s hands and offered her a very deep bow, which she returned with a curtsey that brought her almost to the floor.

Well, she was a widow and he a widower, both Thirteenth House nobility with daughters of their own and each with a young girl to raise. They had a great deal in common—and they liked each other. Wen supposed there was hardly anything to be surprised about in that. No doubt he considered her at least as much a
friend
as he considered Wen—a more suitable one by any criteria. The thought did not make Wen feel especially cheerful.

The orchestra slid easily into another tune. Demaray surfaced gracefully from her curtsey and made an excited comment to Jasper. Wen guessed at the words.
Oh, I love this song! One more dance, please!
Whatever she said, Jasper smilingly acquiesced. Wen didn’t stay to watch them perform. She already had a fairly good idea of how well they moved together.

Back through the lower levels of the house, back through the kitchen, back through the gardens and up to the front gate. All quiet, except for the muted strains of music drifting from the house.

“Is it as pretty inside as it sounds like from here?” asked Amie, one of those who had been stationed at the gate.

“Prettier,” Wen said. “Go take a look. I’ll keep your post here for a while.”

That offer being accepted with alacrity, Wen then felt compelled to make the same bargain with the other guards so they could get a chance to see the nobility at play. It was another forty-five minutes before she returned to the house, and enough time had passed that she felt compelled to check on the ballroom again.

Karryn dancing with Ryne, Serephette dancing with an older gentleman, and Jasper standing with a knot of men, watching one of them tell a story that demanded a great deal of gesturing and explanation. Nothing here to be concerned about.

Wen headed upstairs to prowl through the corridors leading to the more private parts of the house. Everything fine on the second story; nothing disturbed on the third. She descended the back stairs and paused in the kitchen again to snatch a few more mouthfuls of food. Ginny was busy scrubbing pans, but she grinned at Wen and said, “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Delicious,” Wen replied.

After polishing off her hasty dinner, Wen stepped into the servants’ hall to check the ballroom from a different vantage point. She had just arrived at the low, discreet door set into the wall when it opened, and Jasper Paladar stepped through.

“Ah, there you are, Willawendiss,” he said. “Not watching us from the main door this time, but skulking around at the back.”

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