“I know not what you mean,” I answered quickly and heard the breathlessness of my words. Music played clearly and I knew it to be the sound of the lute and was for a moment relieved. Then, remembering Seton’s wounded fingers, I grew angry.
“He plays as though gifted from above.” Auberon’s head cocked to listen to the music above the voices around us. “I wish him to play at my wedding. I told Duir it should be overlooked.”
Fear brought sweat to my brow. Had I been weaker, I would have run from the court. Instead, I allowed the memory of Seton’s and my abuse to seal my feet to the floor.
“Come, Virago. It is not a surprise. Your hunger is plain in your eyes and always has been. How many years have we all known each other? How many times have we seen one another nude? Your shyness, your blushing and physical aversion when we touch you in jest, these all told of your true passions. So when Cale—”
“Say his name not to me!” I broke Auberon’s suspicious onslaught. “Listening to Cale is like listening to the wind. You hear many tales and little truth. If I have been shy it is because I was reared to be mindful of my place and I am not accustomed to being manipulated by other men for jest!” I’d spoken beyond my limit, and realized it too late.
His face grew grim. “The laws you have broken are centuries old and though I have implored Duir on your behalf, you must seek his forgiveness, and swear you will not act in this depraved way again. You’ve done wrong to disrespect him as you have.”
I felt a threat in his voice as I jerked my shoulder from under his hand. I strode from him, unsure of where I meant to go. I could only follow the sound of the music and hoped it would lead me to Seton.
What would Duir do? Worse, what did he expect? Of me? Of Seton? These questions held me as a spell holds an enchanted child. So when I broke from the crowd and found myself before Duir, I felt stunned and exposed.
He sat resplendent upon his dark throne of ebony and rare black wood. Seeing Duir upon it was like seeing a demi-god, for he shone in such magnificence. It was frightening.
Duir talked in earnest with a small, dark man while those around him kept a vigilant watch upon the court. Briar was on his left and Cale on his right. It was several seconds before any of them noticed me. It was in fact Seton, who upon seeing me, faltered in his playing and thus made Duir raise his head.
At first he glanced to where Seton sat nearby. Cale leaned close and uttered something, at which Duir held up a hand.
“This is your King, tailor,” Cale barked. “Fall on your knees and show him your allegiance!”
“Cale,” Duir’s voice resonated in the now silent hall. “It is enough you have spoken before me, but you will not address the royal tailor in such a way. He is friend and loyal to me, as was his father to mine.”
Behind me, I heard a rustling and the faint sound of a familiar voice. When I dared a furtive glance, I saw Sylvain, his brow furrowed as though every fiber of his being were trying to sense what was happening.
“God save the King,” I bowed low. Unsure of what would happen next, I found myself holding my breath in anticipation.
“Rise, Virago, you are a welcome sight. Come forth and accept my praise and thanks.”
Although kind, I did not fail to hear the command behind Duir’s words.
When I straightened, his hand was outstretched. On it I saw the glorious black diamond his father had worn, a symbol of his position, and the confirmation of his coronation. I moved forward slowly, bowed, and kissed the ring. The stone felt cold and hard against my lips.
“And who is this?” Duir asked as he jerked his hand from my lips. “Sylvain? Will surprises of this day ever cease?”
I saw my brother bow, and heard his calm voice.
“Your Grace.”
“Welcome to court, Sylvain. I hope you are finding it pleasurable.”
I couldn’t help but find my eyes searching Duir’s face for his true emotions, but where there had been an almost transparency in days past, there was now a mysterious aloofness.
Before Sylvain could reply, Duir stood, held his arms wide, exposing the full majesty of the velvet vest. “My loving people and most honored guests,” Duir’s voice boomed majestically. “I would like to share with you a new and most precious discovery.”
I could hear the awed sounds of the crowd behind me. The weight of their eyes trained upon the throne and the expectant hush was heavy with excitement.
“I present you with the man responsible for bringing this new material to my court. The royal tailor. He is Virago and this,” he said, stroking the front of his chest appreciatively, “is velvet and upon its arrival, has been made a royal textile to be worn by only those of positions within court and gentry. The laws of sumptuary have been made clear in this regard.”
My eyes found Seton. He stared hard at Duir as though bemused by this speech. I could see the velvet-lined cape draped across his seat. My own cape felt suddenly heavy, as if it carried the weight of the law within its lining.
“Now,” Duir continued in a less booming, but regal voice. “Let us feast and enjoy the theatrics of Lady Therese!”
At the mention of Therese, I felt my stomach lurch. My thoughts raced urgently.
He must be warned! I must tell him!
Applause broke out and rose up from behind me in a wave. Seton was provoked to begin playing and soon the hall was merry.
“Your Grace,” I began, trying not to shout above the noise, but was interrupted by Briar, who came and clapped me on the shoulder.
“His Grace will see you tomorrow. Virago—”
“Indeed, we
