WHO OWNS THE TRAGEDY?

ACT ONE| 16

With Friends Like These

Varbridge Palace, Ember's Rock, Saprea

The orchestra was producing the awful noises it makes while the musicians were getting ready to begin, so Desyrae was forced to wait a moment before she actually danced. Though no one had even asked her for a dance, she expected Cassius to do so because her brother swore that he'd make it happen.

Desyrae glanced back over to the corner where her father and brothers were gathered, looking as if they were having a grand old time with some other nobles. They had been accosted by almost as many people as Desyrae, but at least there seemed to be some safety in numbers. Desyrae noticed that the young debutantes didn't seem to spend half as much time in the other Talones' company as they did in hers.

As she looked around for Cassius, she saw Alessandro. Sandro, who was leaning lazily against a wall, caught her bored expression and smirked, raising a glass of red wine in her direction. She supposed that Sandro was one of the only members of the Valicios family that she liked. Then he cocked his head slightly, motioning to Desyrae's left. Desyrae turned just in time before colliding with Atticus Valicios.

There was something quite humbling in feeling nervous about seeing Atticus. Atticus was...Atticus. It was almost as if he'd always been there, smiling politely at the perimeter of a ballroom and she'd just ruined it for him.

Atticus was clearly trying for a smile, but the result was more of the openmouthed idiot sort of look. Desyrae tried not to look amused. She turned around for a second as he collected himself. Sandro, she saw, was quite amused by his cousin's dumb reaction.

Atticus bowed clumsily and muttered dully.

And then with a flourish, that might've been triumphant if he hadn't ruined it with a nervous smile, "Your Highness, you look stupendous!"

"Thank you, m'lord."

Atticus's eyes focused on something behind Desyrae for a second, but before she could turn her head, he whisked her away, looping his arm through hers, hardly noticing where he was going and bumping into several people.

"I'm sorry, I should've asked," he said in a low voice. "But you should know that my uncle was behind you and if the encounter died so soon you would've been bombarded by him."

"Your uncle?" she asked.

And just when Desyrae had stopped feeling expectant and tense and started wishing she could return to the present, he cleared his throat nervously. "The High King, Your Highness."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement.

"Oh," she said blankly. He was awkwardly moving his arm about. "Are you okay?"

"Tense," he chuckled, moving his arm slightly to ease himself in contrast to her tight muscles. "Oh! I should introduce myself. I am High Lord Atticus Valicios."

"High Lord? Isn't Lucian Valicios the high lord of Ember's Rock?"

"He is, and my brother will inherit the title when the time comes. I was given the title because of my achievements in Chartariese. I fixed up the city and convinced many wealthy and noble persons to pass by. I practically owned the city since I made the important decisions, so those who I would have visit petitioned for me to be granted the title."

"That is quite impressive," Desyrae told him. "I should visit Chartariese."

"You should if you have the time. One of my greatest accomplishments is building the Crimson Stadium. I'm very proud of it. Many people place bets and lose their billfolds," said Atticus, laughing.

"I love a good fight. I'd be honored to go."

They were being quite friendly to each other, though oddly formal. Atticus wasn't really skilled good at being good company with women, but he thought he was doing fine by talking about propaganda and higher taxes with her.

Suddenly, Jhaan walked up to her and Atticus. Just then the orchestra ceased its discordant warm-up and struck the first notes of a waltz. Jhaan took Desyrae's hand and laid a scrupulously polite kiss on her knuckles. "I am honored to officially make your acquaintance, Your Highness."

He was happy that he had finally gotten a chance to dance with the princess, but what if he messed up his chance? What if he had already made her disinterested? No, he wasn't scared of her, he was just madly in love. He bowed, and murmured, "Care for a dance, Your Highness?" He knew he had to make the move. He had to show he was different.

Atticus awkwardly bowed and excused himself.

"How could I decline?" she asked, leaning close to him so she could be heard over the music in the hall.

"Jhaan Kepastrakis, are you not?" she asked him, eyes filled with interest for the young lord.

"I am," he replied, seeming awfully proud of who he was. But when he looked at her, lips slightly parted and brows furrowed, not knowing what to expect from her, Desyrae realized how young he was. He had to have been her age or at least a year older.

She looked at him, pleased. He knew that she was a stubborn woman, that much Cassius cared to share with him.

"Cassius sends his regards," Jhaan said.

"Why doesn't he ask me to dance?"

Well, I don't know Desyrae, maybe because you put a knife to his throat?

"He doesn't really like dancing with people."

She could feel his breath on her neck as he pulled her close. Desyrae moved gracefully through each step, black hair bouncing in time to her steps. The silk of her dress fairly shimmered in the flickering candlelight.

No words were exchanged, for they were not needed. The way his hand was placed upon her lower back, almost, almost, low enough to be considered unruly, told her more than she needed to know.

Marthe seemed to be having the same thoughts when Desyrae returned to her side. She could feel the girl casting a sidelong glance at her. "What is it, Marthe?"

A mocking smile graced her lips. "Monsieur Kepastrakis's eyes linger far too long for it to be considered solely good company."

"Don't be absurd," she waved the girl off, not wanting to dwell on her words or the way his eyes had roamed her face in search of something.