Chapter Forty

Into The Horse Field

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By the end of dinner, Abrizhen had noticed his acquaintances leaving their family tables, congregating at an empty table in a far corner to make their own fun. As he led Kelvaran through the ballroom in their direction, he spied Mikhatym still sitting at the Yldratha table beside a very lovely young woman, both of them looking absolutely miserable as Mikhatym's mother, the Princess Yldratha, labored to make them speak to one another.

Mikhatym looked up and caught Abrizhen's eye with an expression that said save me.

Abrizhen chuckled softly and returned a helpless shrug, then turned back to find Kelvaran brooding as his eyes searched the dance floor.

“I doubt you'll find her there,” Abrizhen told him, leaning close. “She's probably dragged Yegaran off somewhere to... pry information out of him.” He added a suggestive tone to that last bit, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for poor Lord Meratha's wounded puppy appearance.

“Are they..?” Kelvaran began.

Abrizhen sighed. “Look, there are some things you'll have to tolerate – at least for a while. You've stepped into the horse field, I'm afraid. There are piles everywhere.”

Kelvaran frowned back at him for a moment, then the corner of his mouth quirked up briefly, although his plain consternation didn't dissipate.

“It doesn't bother you?” he asked.

Abrizhen gave a contemptuous sneer and shook his head.

“It really doesn't. Come on,” he said, nodding back over his shoulder, “we've both got friends over there.”

“Zhen! Finally released from duty?” Zevram called as they reached the table.

“Does it ever really end?” Abrizhen answered ruefully, taking the glass Zevram proffered. “Lord Meratha, have you met all of these scoundrels?”

Kelvaran approached hesitantly, but Vadislin leaped to his feet at once.

“Cousin!” he said, grasping Kelvaran by both shoulders as if he must verify the truth of his presence. “It's damn good to see you. You look well.”

Kelvaran smiled and returned his cousin's half-embrace.

“I'm as well as I can be,” he replied.

“Good.” Vadislin clapped Kelvaran's shoulder once more before releasing him. “Mother will be pleased to hear it. She worries for you.”

“Are your family here?” Kelvaran asked.

“No, no, just me,” Vadislin said. “My parents are getting on in years and these things tire them. But they are well... the whole family are well.”

He said this last in a pointed tone, and Abrizhen caught the meaning. It would be politically dicey for Kelvaran to ask after Vadislin's little foster-sister Elika, the heir to the Meratha Principality, but of course Kelvaran would be interested.

“We must have you out for dinner sometime... if you're able...,” Vadislin continued, casting a querying glance Abrizhen's way.

“Don't ask me,” Abrizhen said. “You'd probably have to invite Father.”

Vadislin did his best to hide a sudden grimace and Abrizhen laughed out loud.

“Give Lord Meratha some time to settle in,” he assured his friend. “I'm sure something can be arranged.”

“Kel, I'm not sure you've met the others here,” Vadislin said, pulling Kelvaran closer to the table. “Lord Kirisliy Vysdatha – he's a quiet one, but... he's a very good friend.”

More pointed tones from Vadislin raised Abrizhen's curiosity, but he couldn't divine any meaning from this one. Perhaps Vadislin was simply feeling the awkwardness of the situation.

Kelvaran gave a short bow. “Lord Vysdatha, I'm pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise, Lord Meratha, welcome,” Kirisliy replied, his usual frost melting with a friendly smile.

“And Sir Zevram Yldra,” Vadislin went on. “You'll have to watch out for him – he's the troublemaker.”

“Hey!” Zevram said indignantly. “And who is always first to join my trouble, young Sir Mera? Hmm?”

Vadislin laughed while Zevram gave a bow to Kelvaran.

“Very pleased to meet you, Lord Meratha,” Zevram said, his tone polite but still brimming with mirth. “Everybody sit now!” he commanded, fluttering his hands about. “It's drinking time!”

He made sure everyone had a full glass while they all settled themselves.

“No Nikhan today?” Abrizhen inquired. “How did he get out of this?”

“He-” Vadislin began abruptly, but then hemmed as he cast his gaze downward before giving Kelvaran a deeply sympathetic expression. When he continued, his voice was soft and a bit mournful. “He had some family business to attend... he did ask me to send his regards... and apologies.”

Kelvaran returned a pensive expression, while everyone else looked on in puzzlement. He gave a nod of resignation.

“Are his parents here?” he asked. “I should greet them.”

“No, only the envoys you already greeted in the throne room.”

“Oh! Right!” Zevram spoke up. “He was supposed to marry your sister, wasn't he?”

“Zev!” Abrizhen admonished, glancing at Kelvaran, whose face had drained of color. He gave Zevram a glare and a short shake of the head.

Zevram sighed in self-reproach.

“My apologies, Lord Meratha,” he said contritely. “I speak faster than I think at times.”

“No apology necessary, Sir Yldra,” Kelvaran said quietly. “It's the truth.”

The table fell into uncomfortable silence for a long moment. Abrizhen furtively studied Kelvaran, who sat silently contemplating his wine glass. Abrizhen sighed regretfully. He still wasn't sure what to make of the man, but there was no need to go sticking fingers into old wounds.

“I saw Mikha over there,” Abrizhen said, changing the subject to revive the mood. “Kiri, isn't that your cousin, Lady Thenia, with him? Is she the one then?”

Kirisliy and Zevram both grinned.

“It's not official, but it looks probable,” Kirisliy answered. “Her parents are over the moon that Thenia might marry a Prince-Heir.”

“I can imagine,” Abrizhen laughed. “I think they were after me for a while.”

“And you didn't jump at it?” Zevram said, shocked. “Zhen, that girl is so beautiful!”

“I have other plans...” Abrizhen mused.

“Don't tell me you've given in to Yilina.”

Kelvaran's chair squealed across the floor as he stood suddenly.

“If you'll all pardon me,” he said with a polite bow, “I think I could do with some air.”

The others all half-rose as Kelvaran retreated from the table. Abrizhen's eyes followed him across the room to an archway leading out to a balcony.

“I did it again, didn't I?” Zevram groused. “Is he really still stuck on her? I can't imagine it. Kiri, you must immediately befriend him and regale him with every horror story about that b-” he caught himself with a slight throat-clearing. “-bratty cousin of yours,” he finished.

Kirisliy stifled a laugh.

Abrizhen exchanged a sympathetic frown with Vadislin.

 

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