I flushed with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. Tressa slid her arm in mine. My confidence increased; if Tressa approved, then everyone would. I wouldn’t stand out, I’d be normal, I’d be Tressa’s quiet but fashionable friend.
But would she be my friend if I wore the clothes I liked? At the seamstress’s, there had been a green gown I desperately wanted to buy. It was worlds different from the style of Tressa’s gown: light pink with bold, diagonal black accents. The dress looked good on her—everything looked good on her—but I would never wear such a thing.
Or would I?
“About half of us have arrived,” Tressa said as she glided me across rugs so plush my shoes sank a little with each step. “Over there we have a table of games started—no gambling, horrid habit—and here, have a seat. I’ve ordered Jerroth to care for you until you’re comfortable with the others.”
Jerroth rose to help me into a seat at the empty table. He wore all black, as usual, but this time he had small pink accents at the hems to match Tressa’s dress. It should have looked stupid, but Jerroth never, ever, looked stupid.
I surveyed the room. Three other girls wore vests like mine. Two wore heavily embroidered shirts with breeches. Most everyone wore dark clothes with light accents—evening colors. Only Tressa broke rules with tasteful flair.
I’m looking at people and not seeing people, I realized. I’m seeing clothes. That’s… terrible.
Jerroth snapped his fingers and a simply dressed man in solid Kyer green appeared. The server displayed a tray of cakes and a choice of water, tea, or diluted wine. I took water and a few cakes. The server walked away. I hadn’t even glanced at his face.
“It’s nice to have fresh air, isn’t it?” Jerroth said.
“Fresh air? Oh. I didn’t notice.” I’d been too busy examining people to notice a window, the first window I’d seen in the Kyer. An evening breeze haunted the room, and a golden sunset softened the Lights.
Jerroth chuckled. “I know. A hole in the wall? What a novel idea.”
I laughed, mostly because it was polite. Truth be told, after working at the Dragon Quarters for a few days, my longing for the outside world had diminished. The dragons kept their platform doors open unless it rained. I didn’t mention it, though. A female trainee at the Dragon Quarters would certainly cause gossip.
Jerroth commented on the sunset, the food, and all sorts of safe but meaningless topics. Tressa continued to bring people to the table. Every time, Jerroth led the introductions, and if for a moment I seemed awkward, Jerroth steered the conversation away from me. He took care of me, as promised.
It’s not so bad. Smile. Nod. Smile. My cheeks began to hurt.
Anastasi arrived last, the only guest wearing a dress. She blinked as Jerroth seated her across from me. “I’m surprised to see you.”
“Why wouldn’t she come?” Jerroth asked. His tone had gone slightly icy.
“Oh, well…” She seemed to notice the rest of the table listening. “You’re right, this is a night for Tressa’s particular friends.”
Everyone seemed to like that answer, but I caught several glances my way. The sympathy friend? The only guests my age were Jerroth, Tressa’s beau, and Anastasi, the obligation. The other twelve, maybe thirteen guests ranged from several years older to ancient, and none of them were familiar to me. All were Dragon Mages, of course. All, I suspected, were connected somehow to Dragonsridge.
Tressa left the door for our table and began a game. To my relief, a few people declined, so I did likewise.
“Tressa, dear, I beg you to give us the latest from the palace,” a younger woman in green said. “I swear, every year I’m here, I feel more removed from civilization.”
Tressa delicately snorted and pushed a red stone across the playing board. “Sometimes, I’m not sure court is civilized. The Duke of Evenspire found his heir in bed with a maid. Again.”
The woman gasped. “Really.”
Anastasi piped up. “She is secluded, of course, especially since he got that first maid with child.”
“Why he would even touch one of them, I don’t know,” a young man said, voice thick with disgust. He slid his stone to the star beside Tressa’s circle.
“It is revolting,” Anastasi said with a laugh.
That baby’s dead by now, and they’re laughing. I stared, hard, at the lingering pink in the clouds through the window.
“We need to change our attitude,” Jerroth said with more disapproval than I’d ever heard from him before. The game paused and Jerroth frowned at everyone, especially Anastasi and the younger Dragon Mages. “We’re Dragon Mages, or will be. Without the commoners, the Kyer wouldn’t function during wartime. We need to see them as human.”
The woman in green snatched her stone. “You’re a radical to even suggest—”
“I’m not,” Jerroth said as he lifted a hand. “Evenspire needs to learn some control. But—” He turned his ice-blue gaze upon the man who had been so disgusted. “Commoners are not animals, and at the Kyer, they are our peers. By the King’s Orb, the Dragonmaster’s own steward is a commoner.”
Silence fell, horrible silence. I wanted to agree aloud with Jerroth; it sickened me that no one cared about the baby’s death. But I dared not speak. Not on this topic.
Tressa frowned as if she’d bit into a lemon. The grimace vanished and she spoke quietly. “I didn’t know you had contacts in the duchies, dear Anastasi.”
“Oh, my cousin just moved to the Towers,” Anastasi said in a sweet voice.
Jerroth quickly spoke up. “Speaking of cousins, how is yours, Tristian?”
Had Anastasi made Tressa angry, or had Tressa made Anastasi? And why? My puzzlement meant I missed the next topic. Words flew across the table as quickly as colored stones, and I understood neither the game nor the words. Stone to circle, star, off board, on again but to the square. Cousin married, marquess courting, heir born, child manifested.
Oiling
