Violet Shadows

21

It smelled of salt. Staring at the boat a blue crisper than any ocean, and a size larger than any townhouse, Christine thought, This was supposed to be easy.

Nicol had summoned them to the far end of the canal where the main harbor was even more crowded than usual, full of haughty ladies with their cheeks rouged, hair styled, and well-esteemed merchants with fat cigars dressed in suits of every color. Such things were more expensive to the residents of these streets, but they did not look out of place altogether. It appeared that Solaamand was far richer than she thought. Why did she think that this gathering wouldn't be fancy? And while she hoped for a fairy-tale ball, something worthy of her attire, she never expected for the party to be on waters.

"Not fond of boats?"

"I don't mind boats," Christine answered, recognizing Maze's voice before he appeared behind the striated cargo containers registered for nations beyond Valltore. "But I've never been to a party on one. Given how big it is, I'm a bit more nervous than I thought."

Maze was dressed in a surcoat of bright yelled cotton, layered loose around an intricate pattern around his pale undershirt. It suited his auburn hair, now pulled back with a loose band of charcoal leather. The ease at which he approached signified the comfort of his clothes. A plainer version of what nobles of High Houses would wear, but handsome nonetheless. If not for the sling heaving across his chest carrying his broken arm.

"Don't tell me you're planning on swimming." He said, stuffing his good arm into pockets.

"I'd sooner die than put myself near the railing." Grimacing, Christine fiddled with one of her pearl earrings—a gift from one of Roma's lovers—while Maze watched the sea. "How long is this party for?"

"As long as it takes for Nicol to negotiate the terms of his treaty." Maze said, watching the damsels in front of the entrance offer handkerchiefs embroidered with jackals and peacocks, roses and daisies, towards their partner before entering. Those without suffer the humiliation of entering alone.

Christine frowned. "Knowing him, it could take all night." Meaning she'd have to seduce Felix the entire time. She was no charmer, even her time amongst Ducal nobles did not grant her further practice, and whatever banter came across them wasn't exactly appealing.

"I'm sure Felix can't be that bad." Maze offered.

"Let's hope not."

"He's as dumb as they come," said Nicol.

She turned to him, stiffing at the sight of him. A collared chemise fitted with a silver tie around his neck dipped into a midnight-blue waistcoat. It was much fancier than the businesswear she'd see him in normally, but now it was... somehow less casual. More serious. Sharper. Deadlier.

"You think everyone is dumb," Henri countered, Eric trotting with, sporting his own fine attire. It brought out two assertions within Eric. A firm domino decked with simple leathers was standard enough to be seen as any soldier, but it was the dirty high boots that reached to his knees and the hilted sword significant of his skill. Such uniforms were not offered lightly. And for a servant of House Rumiere, it was like a shadow given form. It was so unlike Henri's lavender tight-fit jacket—a shade that complimented his brown skin quite well—strung together by the bright pussy-bow lying above his sternum, and matching stiff trousers, it was a marvel that the two of them arrived together. Like a lilly and a thorn.

Even so, she really did hope Felix was dumb. The thoughts slipped from her mouth. "It would be easier for me then, I suppose."

"That Nicol sees the whole world as inferior?" Henri asked.

"Hasn't he always been like that?" She said, but also supplied, "I was talking about Felix."

Maze ran a hand through his hair, then stopped in the realization that it was tied. "There's not much difference between them, now that I think about it."