Mor'ded snorted. "Don't expect support from that direction. If anything, my son's heart is colder than my own."

He said it with pride. Her husband's chin lifted with pride. Ca.s.s prayed for guidance.

Mor'ded turned his attention to Ca.s.sandra's father. "You there, Chandos. Elven blood runs in your veins. Since your daughter has deprived me of entertainment, perhaps you can show us your own power."

Father tried not to squirm. Tried not to look around at the other n.o.bles. "You forget I have no power other than the gift of my charm, Your Most High."

Humphs of disgust from the gentlemen. t.i.tters of scorn from the ladies.

"Yet I'm sure I remember that your daughter has the gift of dance." Those glittering black eyes narrowed. "She'd best have enough of the blood to breed true." His gaze pierced Ca.s.s yet again. "So girl, it looks like it's up to you to entertain me." He rose, a flutter of velvet and lace and deadly magic. He clasped her shoulder and nearly dragged her from her chair, through the hall into the great ballroom. Ca.s.s shied away from his scepter, afraid it would accidentally brush against her skin. Rumor had it that no one could touch it but a true elven lord, and she wouldn't relish finding out the truth of it.

Lady Ca.s.sandra could hear the excited whispers of the court as they followed.

Startled slaves quickly dropped their tasks and vanished behind stately columns and cleverly hidden doors. The long tables at the end of the ballroom appeared half-full. Weak light filtered in from double doors and the candles hadn't been lit yet, so the room lay shrouded in gloom. Mor'ded uttered a word and the ceiling lit with a blazing light, causing several of the musicians to break their strings while in the middle of their rehearsal.

Mor'ded hauled her into the middle of the floor. "Play," he commanded them.

They quickly organized themselves and struck up a tune while the lords and ladies spread around the room, vying for the best view.

Ca.s.s swallowed. She'd made a complete muck of things and now he sought to punish her. Instead of impressing the elven lord with her innocence and demure nature, she'd incited his anger... something she guessed few rarely did. But perhaps. Perhaps she could turn this to her advantage. She could get close enough to the lord for a killing blow once her strength was enhanced by the music.

"Will you partner me then, dearest father-in-law?"

He looked down his nose at her with disdain. "Dominic," he called. And he thrust Ca.s.s into the arms of her new husband, then strode across the polished floor to settle himself on his golden throne.

The music rose in volume and she felt it creep into her bones. Without further ado, General Raikes swept her into a dance, one that swirled her silk skirts across the floor, made the silver in her dress sparkle like the sun's reflection on water.

Despite her annoyance at herself for inciting the elven lord's wrath, she couldn't regret that her husband finally held her in his arms. He had strong, warm arms.

"I shall endeavor to behave better in the future," she said to him.

He didn't blink. Didn't shrug. Just danced her around the room like an angel of grace. His elven blood made his movements smooth and lithe, but she could tell he did not embrace the music. Did not become one with the magic of it, as she could.

She feared he had no feelings-but if he did, he surely regretted the choice of bride that had been thrust upon him. She had asked G.o.d to allow her to make him happy, but since he seemed to lack that emotion, she must seek to impress her husband, at the least. She must bridge this gap between them in some way.

So Ca.s.s let the music swell through her. Her feet caught the rhythm and moved of their own accord. Her body swayed with the beat of the drums; her arms fluttered with the soulful sound of the strings. She felt Dominic's intake of breath, and the dance between them subtly shifted. He still led-she doubted if it could have been otherwise-but his body molded to hers, and soon they did more than the practiced steps of the minuet. Motions that came from the music itself shaped their dance until what they performed no longer resembled any of the movements defined by man.

Ca.s.s had danced only with Thomas and her father. Neither of them possessed the elven grace the way her new husband did. She felt almost as if he became one with her, and she danced as she'd never done before, twirling around him to be caught again in his grasp, sliding across the floor by turns of their heels. He seemed to sense her next move and stayed with her, so she didn't fear that when she leaned back in an arch, he would not be there to catch her. That when she trailed her arm down his own and twirled at the tips of his fingers, he would not be ready to pull her back into his arms. She knew not what to call this dance they devised, but she felt sure it would shock the court.

She noticed her rose ring had blossomed again. Elven magic, indeed. Did it predict so accurately her mood, then?

When the music finally ended and they swayed to a stop, not a sound could be heard within the vast room. Her husband looked at her then. Truly looked at her as if for the first time. But she could tell nothing of his thoughts from the cold glitter of his black eyes.

"That's a very old elven dance," said Mor'ded. Ca.s.s turned and saw the flicker of a smile on the Imperial Lord's face. "I never thought to see it performed as if I watched my own people at a fete in Elfhame. You do indeed dance, Lady Ca.s.sandra."

She suspected that would be the highest praise she would receive and bowed, turned to see if she'd also managed to please her new husband, and realized she stood alone.

Indeed, she stayed alone throughout the entire day, except for the company of her father, who kept a silent vigil by her side. Once, he managed to whisper to her, "Perhaps I have made a mistake in giving you over to this man." But Ca.s.sandra quickly shushed him, a.s.suring him all would be well. That her husband's heart would eventually warm to her, and he would seek her company.

Lady Agnes pranced by at that moment in Dominic's arms, her laughter denouncing Ca.s.s a liar. Lady Ca.s.sandra didn't need to look at her ring to know it had tightened into a small bud again.

She plucked a gla.s.s off a footman's tray and downed the contents. It burned; she coughed but immediately felt better. She knew her marriage was nothing but a charade, that her new husband didn't have a heart. But she'd had enough humiliation for one day. And if she continued to attend a ball where her husband flaunted his mistress in her face, she would hate him. And that would not serve the Rebellion's cause one whit.

So she kissed her father and quietly left the ball, hesitating outside the grand room. She had no idea which direction to take. Up, most likely, and then perhaps she could ask a chambermaid for the directions to the general's rooms.

From the corner of her eye she caught a furtive movement, quite like her own stealthy habit of slipping around door frames. Without thinking she reached out, snagging the shoulder of the boy's shirt. He struggled for a moment, gave a sigh of defeat, and looked up at her with the largest hazel eyes Ca.s.s had ever seen. Faceted, elven eyes.

"Don't be frightened," said Ca.s.s. "I just need some directions."

The lad looked at her face, then down to a meat pie he held-which he'd obviously stolen from the banquet table-and quickly stuffed it into a ragged tear in his shirt. Ca.s.s ignored the pilfered item. A child needed to eat.

"What's your name?"

"Do ye need to know that?"

Ca.s.s smiled. Cheeky little thing. "I suppose not, but I would like the pleasure of knowing whom I am addressing."

The formality of her request appeared to make an impression. Ca.s.s released her hold and the boy squared his shoulders, smoothed back the silver-white hair tangled about his face, and curtsied. "My name is Gwendolyn, but everybody calls me Gwen."

Ca.s.s started. Well, at that age, and with the amount of dirt covering the child, she shouldn't be surprised she'd mistaken the gender.

"Did I do it wrong? I never curtsied before, but I've watched lots of times when the ladies do it."

"Ah no. You curtsied quite well. How clever of you to teach yourself."

The child beamed. Ca.s.s tried to suppress her discomfort. They employed servants in her home and at her school. The gentry considered it a show of their status that they could afford paid servants, and if they kept slaves, they were a.s.signed the most menial tasks... and were hidden from view. So she didn't have much experience with slaves. The child looked ragged enough to have come from the workhouses of the East End of London. And even there they didn't put little girls in boy's breeches.

"Well, Gwen, my name is Lady Ca.s.sandra, but you may call me Lady Ca.s.s. And I'm looking for General Raikes's bedchamber. Can you direct me?"

"Yer his new wife, ain't ye? Why ye leaving yer party so early? Did ye see all the food they laid out fer ye?"

"I'm quite full, you see."

The child nodded in relief, as if glad Ca.s.s hadn't neglected the feast. "Ye don't want to go to his old place, do ye? They gave him a new set of rooms, ye see."

"Indeed. You can direct me to the new rooms."

"Ye might get lost. I could take ye there, but I'm not really supposed to be up in them. I might get in trouble."

Ca.s.s reached in the slit of her skirt and pulled out a coin from her bag. "If anyone should stop us, I shall say you are my guide. And this will be for your trouble."

The coin disappeared as quickly as the meat pie had, and in the same place. "That's all right, then." The child skipped off. Ca.s.s lifted her skirts and rushed to follow. "I'm supposed to stay in the kitchens, see. But I know me ways around. There's secret pa.s.sages behind the walls, did ye know?"

Ca.s.sandra shook her head and tried to look suitably impressed.

"The general showed me. He used to work in the kitchens too, when he was little."

So Ca.s.s had heard, but she'd hardly credited it. "Did he?"

The child stopped at a winding staircase, the mahogany handrails polished to a brilliant shine, the treads carpeted in plush red. "I don't use these. The servants' stairs are back there." And she pointed to a closed door. "But I suppose it's all right since I'm with ye."

Ca.s.s nodded, lifted her silk skirts a bit more, and started up the stairs, the child right on her heels. "So you know the general, Gwen?"

"Oh aye. We likes to call him champion, ye know. But only when he ain't around, 'cause he don't like it."

Ca.s.s waited, hoping the girl wouldn't need any further prodding.

"He don't pay us no mind either. But he likes to s.n.a.t.c.h food from Cook, says it's a habit he can't break." They had reached the landing, and Gwen pointed down a long hall. "This here floor is for guests. Yer one more up."

Ca.s.s nodded and started up again.

"He don't like us none. He don't like anyone."

"I hope he'll like me, Gwen."

"Maybe. But he don't seem to like the women he sleeps with neither. At least, that's what Cook says."

Ca.s.sandra thought she might take a little trip to the kitchens on the morrow and meet this Cook. She couldn't imagine that the churlish general went to the kitchens for nostalgia. What might be his true purpose?

"Don't worry about not knowing him, Lady Ca.s.s. n.o.body does, that's what Cook says. Now me, I think the dragon knows him. He spends a lot of time up there in the tower."

"With Mor'ded's dragon-steed?" What would he want with such a dread beast?

"Aye, his name's Ador, and I'm scared of him. But I don't think the general's scared of nothing."

"Indeed."

"But I only have finding magic. If I had the champion's fire magic, maybe I wouldn't be scared neither."

"Finding magic?"

"Oh aye. I can find lost stuff. If ye ever need anything found, lady, just let me know."

They had reached the second landing, and the child skipped in front of Ca.s.sandra, taking the lead down the vast hall. Urns filled with blue fire lit the pa.s.sage and gave it an eerie glow. Treasures littered the cabinets and niches in the walls, and Ca.s.s vowed to explore them in the light of day. But for now her guide hurried her along.

Gwen stopped at two large double doors covered in gilt. "This is where yer new rooms are. I haven't been inside yet; they just finished with them."

Ca.s.s nodded and reached for the gold handle.

Gwen tugged at Ca.s.sandra's skirt. "Down there," she whispered, pointing a grubby finger at the end of the corridor, "is the Imperial Lord's rooms. n.o.body's ever been in there, 'cept maybe the general. Don't go there, Lady Ca.s.s. There's things in there that'll eat ye if Mor'ded don't flame ye first."

Ca.s.sandra frowned, wondering if Mor'ded had started the rumor to ensure his privacy. If it was indeed a rumor.

"But don't ye worry about the champion hurting ye. He don't flame women or children."

For some reason Ca.s.s didn't feel rea.s.sured by that statement. "Would you like to come inside with me, Gwen?"

Those hazel eyes widened even farther. "Oh aye, my lady." Then she hastily added, "Cook says my curiosity will get me flogged one day."

"They flog you?"

"Oh aye. Ye can do anything ye want with a slave. Ain't got no rights, ye see. Ye don't seem to know much, lady. Where ye come from?"

Ca.s.s smiled. "A private school."

"Not a very good 'un, then." She sucked in a sharp breath and added, "No offense, my lady. Cook says I talk too much. Probably get flogged for that someday too."

"Not if I have any say about it," muttered Ca.s.s as she pushed open the door. She walked into what might have been a parlor if it had held more than two chairs by the fireplace and a footstool. She went into the adjacent room, which looked to be a private dining room by the bare table sitting in the middle of it. Another door led into a small sitting room, which held another door that led into an empty bedchamber with two bare bedsteads. Beyond the sitting room lay the master bedchamber, boasting a large box bed with black drapery, a wardrobe, and her own trunks. A small door led to a washroom, with a wooden seat above the chamber pot and a washstand. She hadn't been sure what to expect after the glorious richness within the rest of the palace, but the austerity of the apartments rivaled that of her boarding rooms. At least there, furnishings from home had surrounded her.

The only light came from the fireplaces, so Ca.s.s lit a candle and viewed her rooms again. They did not improve with illumination.

"The general don't like frippery," piped Gwen. "He says it makes ye soft."

"I see. Does he not like servants as well?"

"He makes do for himself, 'cause he says-"

"It makes him soft; yes, Gwen, I begin to understand." Ca.s.s walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it with a bounce. Hard, of course. "Well, at least he allows servants to make the bed and lay the fire. I daresay I'm glad you came with me. I shall have someone to undo my b.u.t.tons."

Gwen frowned. "I don't have much practice with those, my lady, but I'm a fast learner."

Ca.s.sandra eyed Gwen, a sudden brilliant idea forming in her head. "I believe you are. I find I'm in need of servants, Gwen. How would you like to work for me?"

The child rocked back on her heels. "Oh, my lady. Ye can't go hiring slaves. The servants won't stand for it."

Ca.s.s swept her head about the room. "I don't see any here to complain."

"But, but... the Imperial Lord won't like it."

And Ca.s.sandra certainly couldn't afford to anger him any further. "Well then. I shan't officially pay you. But if you are to attend me, I shall have to buy you new clothes and fatten you up a bit, for a lady cannot have you waiting on her looking as you do now."

Gwen screwed up her face. "I suppose not."

"That's settled, then. In fact, I believe I shall visit the kitchens tomorrow, for surely I will need more than one helper."

"If... if yer sure, my lady."

"Quite. Now, for your first instruction." Ca.s.s squatted, held down her hoops, and showed her back. "Take one side of the cloth and push the b.u.t.ton through while gently tugging on the other side."

"I know how," Gwen said in disgust. "Just don't have much practice." The girl's little fingers started fumbling, and Ca.s.s suppressed a giggle because it tickled. "Lor', there must be a hundred of them, lady."

Gwen loosed her giggle. "I'm sure you're up to the task."

"Oh yes. This is much easier than turning a pig roast."

Ca.s.sandra continued to laugh while Gwen helped her undress. The lacing of her stays proved too difficult for the child to undo, so Ca.s.s just left it on over her chemise. She'd purchased a lovely nightgown to please her new husband, but despite Mor'ded's a.s.surances, she felt sure the general would be spending the night with his mistress so it wouldn't signify anyway.

Ca.s.s crawled up on the hard bed and yawned.