Knife of Rebellion: Battles of Eyenwar, Book 1

Chapter 18- The Charity Ball

A ball, even a charity ball, turns out to be a horrendous affair. If I thought the dress of the Skevetic women were ridiculous during a normal day, the things that they wear for celebrations are downright absurd. I pertinaciously refused to wear one. Instead I wear one of the mens tunics, slightly fitted and longer than usual with a slit from my hip to the bottom. Underneath are comfortable trousers and flat soled boots. I did, however, give in and allow Perdy to twist my hair into an elaborate braided updo and pin it with simple silver pins.

Even I have to admit that Queen Jacqueline outdid herself. The large ballroom looks spectacular. Lanterns made of coloured glass shine soft hues over the dance floor, reflecting off of the many silver ribbons hanging from the ceiling. The musicians play on soft flutes and gilded harps. To even get invited to the event one had to donate money to the Charity Bel fund. Even better, each noble or wealthy aristocrat wants to outdo each other, so each donation is larger than the last. Already the money is more than quadruple the money Mirabel and I first donated.

And from the reports I've been getting from Cairo, that donation went a long way. Apparently Jin's mother was able to quit her second job because she didn't need to feed her children anymore. Now she's home with them by early evening every day, and all of her brood go to the church school while she's at work. Many other families are benefiting just as much, and they all know to thank Mirabel.

Last week I had her portrait painted and it now hangs on the wall of the classroom in Father Herbert's Parish.

As elegant as the room looks, it can do nothing to compensate for the laughable flamboyance of the people in it. The women wear far too many ruffles and bows, and the men are covered in coats styled after the colourful Kelpis robes, which in itself would be fine except that each one is covered in multicoloured silk patterns studded with precious gems. The display of wealth is sickening.

Mirabel and Garen are the one couple that look truly beautiful. Garen is in an imitation of the Skevetic military dress, a scaly green jacket over jet black trousers tucked into shiny black boots. Mirabel is dressed in a simple dress, also green, which spirals out around her legs as Garen spins her around the room. Her hair is down, braided through with fresh wildflowers. She looks like a fairy queen.

"Would you care to dance?" I look up to see a young man, only fourteen or so, blushing furiously. He hasn't grown into his large hands yet, and he stand awkwardly among his much older counterparts.

I smile at him kindly, "I'm afraid I don't know the steps." He understands the dismissal and turns away from me.

Branon, who stands stationed by the door out to the garden nods at me. I follow his direction and see familiar, and detested, face. It is the man Alaric wanted me to use as the last member of Mirabel's guard, the 'expert of assassination' as the King put it. He blends in well, wearing a coat similar to the other nobles, but with far less colour or grandeur. If I had never seen his face before I would have thought he was suppose to be here he blended in so well.

But I had seen him before, and I wasn't going to let him anywhere near my cousin.

Slipping between the dancers and chatting party go-ers I followed the man's trail around the room. He was getting slowly closer to Mirabel and Garen. Before her could get to them, I reach forward and tapped on his shoulder.

"Excuse me sir, but I don't believe I ever caught your name." I remark cooly.

To his credit, the man does not look the least bit surprised when he turns to see me, "No, you did not."

I frown, "I hardly think that's polite. There are no hard feelings because I turned down your services are there? Very unprofessional."

He looks at me with a gaze cold enough to rival my own.