Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [187]
“What was that about?” Roial asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” Sarene said, this time completely honest.
Roial, however, nodded knowingly.
The problem with being clever, Sarene thought with a sigh, is that everyone assumes you’re always planning something.
“Ashe, I want you to keep an eye on the king,” Sarene said, aware of Roial’s curious smile. “He’ll probably spend most of his time in his exclusive portion of the party. If he decides to move, tell me immediately.”
“Yes, my lady,” Ashe said, hovering away to take an unobtrusive place next to one of the torches, where the flame’s light masked his own.
Roial nodded again. He was obviously having a delightful time trying to decipher Sarene’s plans.
“So, do you feel like joining the king’s private gathering?” Sarene asked, trying to divert the duke’s attention.
Roial shook his head. “No. As much good as it would do me to watch Iadon squirm in your presence, I’ve never approved of the way he holds himself aloof. I’m the host, thanks to you, and a host should mingle. Besides, being around Iadon tonight will be intolerable—he’s looking for someone to replace Baron Edan, and every minor noble at the party will make a play for the title.”
“As you wish,” Sarene said, allowing Roial to lead her toward the open-walled pavilion where a group of musicians was playing and some couples were dancing, though most stood talking at the perimeter.
Roial chuckled, and Sarene followed his gaze. Shuden and Torena spun near the center of the dance floor, completely captivated by one another.
“What are you laughing about?” Sarene asked, watching the fire-haired girl and the young Jindo.
“It is one of the great joys of my old age to see young men proven hypocrites,” Roial said with an evil smile. “After all those years swearing that he would never let himself be caught—after endless balls spent complaining when women fawned over him—his heart, and his mind, have turned to mush as surely as any other man’s.”
“You’re a mean old man, Your Grace.”
“And that is the way it should be,” Roial informed. “Mean young men are trivial, and kindly old men boring. Here, let me get us something to drink.”
The duke wandered away, and Sarene was left watching the young couple dance. The look in Shuden’s eyes was so sickeningly dreamy that she had to turn away. Perhaps Daora’s words had been more accurate than Sarene had been willing to admit. Sarene was jealous, though not because she had assumed any romantic possibilities with Shuden. However, ever since her arrival in Arelon, Shuden had been one of her most fervent supporters. It was hard to watch him giving his attention to another woman, even for a completely different purpose.
There was another reason as well—a deeper, more honest reason. She was jealous of that look in Shuden’s eyes. She was envious of his opportunity to court, to fall in love, and to be swept up in the stupefying joy of romance.
They were ideals Sarene had dreamed about since early adolescence. As she grew older, Sarene realized such things would never be hers. She had rebelled at first, cursing her offensive personality. She knew she intimidated the court’s men, and so, for a short while, she had forced herself to adopt a more subservient, docile temperament. Her engagement, and near marriage, to a young count named Graeo had been the result.
She still remembered the man—more a boy—with pity. Only Graeo had been willing to take a chance on the new, even-tempered Sarene—risking the mockery of his peers. The union had not been one of love, but she had liked Graeo despite his weak will. There had been a kind of childish hesitancy about him; an overdone compulsion to do what was right, to succeed in a world where most people understood things much better than he.
In the end, she had broken off the engagement—not because she knew living with the dull-minded Graeo would have driven her mad, but because she had realized that she was being unfair. She had taken advantage of Graeo’s simple ingenuousness, knowing