Passion Play (River of Souls 1)

Her companion glanced at her sideways and smiled, as though she guessed Ilse’s thoughts. “Indeed,” she murmured. “And his cook is the best in Tiralien, even counting Lord Kosenmark’s. And yet, if you do not mind the advice, I would caution you to choose your dishes carefully. One wrong mouthful, eaten in haste, can be … risky.”

She had spoken softly, leaning slightly toward Ilse as though to share a secret. Now she drew back and laughed. They might have been two intimates sharing a joke. Before Ilse could think how to answer, or if she should, the woman turned to a different dinner companion, and begged his opinion of the new fashion in Tiralien, that of blending music with magical illusions.

“Would you call that music or theater?” she asked.

“I would call it a travesty.”

His opinion provoked a lively discussion, and from there, the conversation turned to the latest plays from Duenne. Ilse surreptitiously watched the woman throughout the discussion. She had a narrow face and dark complexion; her hair was black and thick, looped into intricate braids and studded with tiny diamonds. One might have thought her plain except for her eyes—lined in kohl with an expert hand, they were dark and brilliant and keen.

Dangerous eyes, she thought. Eyes to remember.

The banquet drew to a close. Soon the guests rose from their seats, servants moved the tables from the hall, and musicians took their places in the corners. As the guests paired off, Ilse withdrew into one of the many alcoves, wanting to watch this first dance. Lord Vieth led a young woman wearing a circlet onto the dance floor. Lady Vieth took her place opposite a heavily built man dressed in the uniform of the king’s army. Across the hall, Ilse glimpsed Lord Kosenmark paired with an elderly lady.

More couples took their places and after a few more moments, the music began. Three soft silvery notes from the water flute were answered by a rill of notes from the hammered strings. Old instruments and new, another of the latest fashions. And yet the dance they signaled was one of the traditional dances from the turn of the century. Was the contrast a subtle signal from Lord Vieth to his guests?

Certain of the guests did not dance. They remained by the walls, talking softly with one another, or they made the rounds along the edge of the dance floor. None of them intruded on Ilse’s privacy, however, and gradually she lost herself in the pleasure of listening to the music. So she was taken completely unawares when Baron Rudolfus Eckard emerged from the crowds, a few feet away.

Ilse froze. Eckard checked himself in mid-stride. They were both staring, Ilse too startled to even think. It was Eckard who recovered first. “Mistress Therez,” he said awkwardly.

Her heart beat fast and hard against her ribs. It took all her effort not to run away into the crowd. She licked her lips, managed to speak. “Baron Eckard.”

Eckard glanced around, then came into the alcove to stand beside her. “I must apologize for my clumsiness, Mistress Therez,” he said in a low voice. “I had no intention of addressing you so abruptly. I was … surprised to meet you here. Surprised but certainly pleased.”

His tone was concerned, not accusing. “My lord,” she said, “there is no need to apologize. I appreciate your concern.”

The first dance was just drawing to a close. The hammered strings had fallen silent, leaving just the water flutes, their clear bright notes like the pattering of rain. Already new couples were taking their places. Eckard gestured toward the floor. “As a great favor, would you dance with me?”

She hesitated, but at his kindly smile, she took his hand and followed him onto the floor.

To her relief, the Baron remained silent through the dance’s first movement, leaving Ilse to concentrate on minding her steps and keeping her own face under control.

“You are well?” he asked at last.

His tone was gentle. He was only concerned, she reminded herself.

“I am, my lord.”

“Older,” he said, in a musing tone. “I see other differences, but I cannot put them into words.” He paused. “You must know that I saw your father last month. He is still searching for you. Would you—”

“No,” she said suddenly. “Don’t. Please.”

“Hush. You will attract too much attention. Come with me.” Deftly he guided their steps toward the edge of the dance floor, where the crowds thinned to just a few couples. “We can dance more easily here,” he said in a conversational tone. And then in a lower voice, he added, “I understand your distress. At least, I believe I do. But would you not want me to tell your family that you are alive, well?”

She shook her head. “Not even that, my lord. I’m sorry, but I—” She drew a long unsteady breath. “I cannot risk it, my lord. Please.”

He looked unconvinced. “Are you well? Are you with a good household?”

A pleasure house. A shadow court. The house of an exiled lord.

“Very good,” she said. “As far as I can judge.”

“You must be,” he murmured, “to receive an invitation here. And yet I must not pry. I can see that from your eyes and mouth, Mistress Therez.”

“My name is Mistress Ilse,” she said, just as softly.

His eyes widened slightly. “Interesting. I should have guessed that you were a resourceful young woman.”

They danced in silence through two more movements. Lord Vieth and his stewards had evidently heard of the fashion for music and magic, because illusory stars appeared overhead, their lights winking and rippling in time with the music.