The Twisted Way (Champions of the Crystal Book 3)

Chapter 13: The Regent's Ball

Sabrina spent an afternoon with Rassir, during which she put forth Scotty's suggestion. Rassir seemed hesitant, wanting to have Rayland's opinion before expressing one of his own, but he didn't dismiss the idea.

Dinner was with the Deltarran delegation, since they were leaving the next morning to return home. Sabrina enjoyed their placid company but had to make an effort to keep her thoughts shielded so as not to intrude on their telepathic sense, and when it was over she felt drained. She decided not to go up to the conservatory but to go straight to bed in her own rooms.

The week that followed was largely uneventful, but instead of relaxing, Sabrina grew more and more tense, anticipating trouble everywhere. Sehaèri grudgingly began planning the ball and soon became swept up in the excitement of it; the rest of the household plunged in eagerly, glad to have something cheerful to think about. General Zhahghai reported that he had rounded up two trade delegations, though they could not be there until after the ball. Sabrina wasn't sure whether that was good or not. Perhaps it was better not to put on a display of faded grandeur in front of prospective trading partners, but at the same time, as she surveyed the guest list, she thought that it could have used some off-world leavening.

The trade task force was coming home the day of the ball, so Sabrina counted on them to attend with the rest of the Citizens Council. Several provincial governors and stewards were coming; almost everyone with a title was attending. Leran and Selémahs would be there; it was the night before their wedding, and they would be the unofficial guests of honor, she knew. There would be some Deltarrans, and a few Lthosyennes, but no one else from off-world. Well, it would have to do, she thought, and since the Grand Ballroom had been devastated for over a century, it was better that the guest list be manageable enough to fit into the Little Ballroom.

The night before the ball, one of the orbital platforms intercepted and detained a mercenary force attempting to land on the planet. They had no overt link to Homeworld, and they carried no energy weapons, but Sabrina was convinced they represented the first assassination team. Or perhaps, she thought grimly, they were a decoy to make her believe that they had staved off the danger for now.

They were now more than three months into mourning for King Baldaran, and Rayland and Imari both suggested that the court go into half-mourning until the six-month mark, when everyone could begin to wear vivid colors again, with only an armband, sash, ribbons, or scarf in mourning colors. Half-mourning on Praxatillus allowed white, grey, black, and lighter shades of purple; Sabrina welcomed it eagerly. She thought the others did too, since it gave more scope to what people could wear to the ball. Sabrina chose white, technically still a mourning color for royalty; her scarlet and gold sash of office was now anchored with a cluster of purple velvet ribbons to emphasize the mourning. Getting the unbecoming colors away from her face did wonders for her appearance and morale, she realized.

She hadn't seen much of Tassan since he had given her the rose painting; her visits to the conservatory had been few and hurried recently. She looked forward to seeing him at the ball and wondered if he could dance. That was all she allowed herself to think about him, though he intruded into her thoughts far more often than she was comfortable with. Perhaps it was the general atmosphere, she reflected, as her household chattered excitedly about their partners and speculated about other possible couples.

She doubted she'd have much time to do as she pleased; Rayland was officially her escort, while Scotty would be escorting Imari, as protocol demanded. She would have to dance mostly with older, higher-ranking men, with a few exceptions, notably Prince Zav. Well, that was something to look forward to, at least, she thought. She could ask him whether the Council of Trême had finished reconsidering his and Rndara's latest petition to marry, and she knew from experience that he was a master at cheerful small talk.