Puzzled, he said, 'But I thought you danced with the Parthonia Royal Ballet.'
Her gaze remained steady. 'I did.'
Her comments made no sense. Parthonia was a ballet company of interstellar renown. 'Didn't they train?'
'Yes. Of course.' With that unrelenting compassion of hers, she said, 'But no one in their youth did what you've done. A minimum of three hours a day all your life, almost since you could walk. And now what is it? Four hours? Five? I've seen you spend the entire day dancing, when you have nothing else to do. It's incredible.'
He shrugged. 'It's fun.' In truth, it was a great deal more, so much a part of his life that to stop would be like trying to quit breathing. But he didn't know how to put that into words.
Roca regarded him steadily. 'Vyrl, you are more than a 'good' dancer. Rahkil Mariov tells me you are the best he has ever worked with.'
Vyrl thought of his instructor. 'If he only takes one student at a time, he can't have worked with that many.' It surprised him; he considered Rahkil a truly gifted teacher.
'Before he came here, he trained hundreds of dancers. Prodigies. He was one of the most sought after masters.' His mother motioned skyward, as if to encompass all settled space. 'In his prime, Rahkil was also considered among the greatest male dancers in modern history.'
Vyrl could see why. He had watched holos of Rahkil performing. He was magnificent. And despite Rahkil's constant curmudgeonly disapproval, Vyrl thoroughly enjoyed his classes. Sometimes Rahkil even forgot himself and complimented his young student.
But his mother's comments perplexed him. 'If Rahkil is so in demand, why would he come here to teach one boy who will probably never make dance his career?' As soon as he spoke, he saw the answer. Stiffening, he said, 'Because I'm a Ruby prince.'
'We didn't tell him who you were when we sent holos of you dancing.'
Vyrl's anger fizzled. 'But — then why did he come?'
She spoke with kindness. 'Because you have an incredible gift. You could walk out of here today and win a place in any major dance company. Rahkil says you will someday surpass what he achieved in his prime.'
Vyrl gaped at her. 'That's crazy.'
'Ah, Vyrl.' Her voice held a mother's pain. 'Shall you spend your life hiding this spectacular gift? Will you live ashamed of a talent and dedication that together could make you a legend in a profession you love more than almost anything else?'
Vyrl couldn't answer. Yes, it hurt, having to hide what he loved, but Lyshriol was his life, all he had ever known. He couldn't imagine anything else.
He spoke in a low voice. 'You said you had seen me put my heart into three things. Dance is only one.'
'Farming, too.'
'I can't farm as the Majda consort.'
'You could become an agriculturist. A research scientist.'
'I don't want to do research. I want to make my living from the land.' Despite the betraying moisture in his eyes, he found himself smiling. 'Working in the fields, caring for livestock, making a life out of golden days — that's
Regret washed out from her mind. They both knew the third dream that inspired his heart. 'She's a lovely girl,' Roca said. 'In a different universe, I think you and Lily could have been very happy.'
'Not could have been,' he whispered. 'Will be.'
Her voice caught. 'I am so, so very sorry.' With the grace he had always admired, she held up her hand as if to offer him the studio. 'We can't have all our dreams. But we can have some of them.'
Vyrl struggled against the heat in his eyes. He wouldn't cry, not now, not in front of his mother.
What made it so hard was that, deep inside, he yearned for the gift she offered, the chance to follow his most secret dream.
Even expecting it, Vyrl jumped when the knock came at the door. He suddenly wished he hadn't chosen this chamber, the circular room high in the tower. When his father had asked where he would like the meeting to take place, he had thought he would be calmer here, but instead it felt as if his sanctuary was being invaded.
Clenching his blue-glass goblet, he swirled its liquid, inhaling the tangy fragrance. Normally his parents didn't let their children drink wine, but today his father had made an exception, treating him as an adult instead of a child. Although Vyrl appreciated the gesture, it didn't help. He had never liked the taste of wine.
The knock came again.
Taking a deep breath, Vyrl stood and walked across the blue chamber. Then he mentally steadied himself and opened the door.
Devon stood on the landing outside.
Instead of a uniform, today she wore suede trousers and a gold shirt. She even had on a gold necklace with a hawk design, the emblem of Majda. She seemed subdued, her face drawn and her eyes dark with fatigue.
She bowed from the waist. 'My greetings, Prince Havyrl.'
So they were back to titles. He nodded. 'My greetings, General Majda.' Moving aside, he invited her to enter.
Devon entered the chamber. 'This is beautiful.'
'It's… calm.' He couldn't say more. To tell her what this place meant to him would be a betrayal of a trust, somehow, though he wasn't sure to whom. Himself, perhaps.
She waited until he sat on his bench, then settled on another one nearby that curved against the wall.
With stiff formality, Vyrl spoke the words he had been practicing all day. 'Please accept my apology for my offense to Majda. I deeply regret any insult my actions gave your line. I hope our House and yours may remain allies.'
Devon answered without delay. 'Majda accepts your apology. We look forward to a fruitful alliance with the Ruby Dynasty.'
Vyrl exhaled. There. It was done.
So they sat.
When the silence grew strained, Devon said, 'Vyrl, I—' in the same instant that Vyrl said, 'My father— 'They both stopped and gave awkward laughs. Then Devon said, 'Please. Go ahead.'
'My father told me what you and he discussed.'
Devon gave a tired nod. 'Perhaps it is best to do this soon instead of waiting. As long as you live on Lyshriol, you will be…' She hesitated.
'Distracted?' He heard his bitterness. 'By memories of my former wife?'
Devon said, simply, 'Yes.'
Vyrl tightened his grip on his goblet. 'So let's just marry off the recalcitrant groom now and get the whole business over with.'
She shifted on the bench. 'I am sorry you see it that way.'
'Everyone is sorry.' He looked out the window, trying to hide the pain he knew showed on his face. 'Lady Devon, you should marry the man you love. Not me.'
Startled tension snapped in her voice. 'What are you talking about?'
Vyrl turned to see her sitting rigidly, gripping the edge of the bench. He said, 'The handsome man with the dark hair and eyes.'
She seemed to close up. 'I have no idea what you mean.'
'I saw him. In your mind.'
For a long moment she remained silent. Just when he thought he had made a fool of himself with his assumption, she spoke quietly. 'If the Matriarch of Majda were to marry a commoner, it would be a great scandal. An outrage. She would be stripped of her title and her authority. Nor would the children of any such union be considered Majda heirs.'
Gods. What could he say? He and Devon each had their duty, and love had no place in it. What did it matter if they died inside a little more every day, as long as the pillars of the Imperialate remained strong?
Devon gentled her voice. 'Vyrl, I won't ask for anything you aren't ready to give. We can live at whichever of my estates you prefer. And you will have advisors, people to help you learn your new role. No one expects a youth
