From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [53]
“She went to find us dresses.” Vrell held up the figure of Gren. “Did you make this?”
Harnu shrugged. “A boy or girl will play with animals, don’t you think?”
“You made them for Gren’s baby?”
“Metal is all I’m good with.”
“Oh, I disagree. I’ve never seen such colors of paint on toys. And the construction of the cottage too. You are quite gifted, Master Poe.”
“Thank you, m’lady. I’m, uh… not proud of how I was before. To Achan.”
Vrell did not want any details of cruelty to Achan. “Yes, we all have dust under our beds, do we not?”
Harnu retreated to the door. “I’ll come back later.” The door clumped shut behind him.
Vrell sighed, knowing exactly what dust was hiding under her bed. Ask him, Arman had said.
As much as Vrell did not want to be queen, feared confessing her lies to Achan, loathed the idea of women throwing themselves at her husband, and the small snag that she was no longer the true heir to Carm—the only legitimate reason to deny Achan had been his indifference to Arman.
But if Achan believed… If he truly followed Arman…
She set the figure of Gren back on the hearth.
She would have to ask him.
The first thing that came to mind when Vrell approached the corner of the outer bailey with Gren was The Ivory Spit in Tsaftown, the inn where Kurtz and Achan had gone dancing with women of questionable repute.
This “Corner” was dark, though they’d posted rushlights around the perimeter. A man stood singing on the end of a small wagon parked against the curtain wall. Three musicians accompanied him with lute, flute, and tabor drum.
Vrell sat on a wooden stump beside Gren on the perimeter of the clearing. They wore simple peasant dresses made of scratchy brown wool with no petticoats. Vrell could barely hold still with the itchy fabric against her skin. She berated herself for not bringing a separate corset. This gown had no structure at all. She felt completely exposed.
She scanned the dark mob of people, but Noam had not yet arrived. Dozens of couples danced. Vrell could not bear to watch, for several were kissing in public. The very idea.
Two young men approached. One had bright orange hair and a short beard with freckles to match. The other was towheaded with a smile that covered half his face.
The towheaded man addressed Gren. “Grenny Fenny, when did yeh move back to Sitna?”
“Cap!” Gren’s smile lit up her face. “I’m not back, just passing through.”
Cap turned his wide smile to Vrell. “Who’s yer friend?”
Gren gave the alias Vrell had chosen. “This is Ressa.”
Cap bent down and propped his hands on his knees so his face was level with Vrell’s. “My, yer a pretty thing, Ressa. Dance with me?”
Vrell’s eyes widened. She would most certainly not dance in such an environment. And with no corset? “Thank you, no. I do not mean to dance this night.”
Though it seemed impossible, Cap’s grin widened. “My my. Aren’t yeh a proper little princess. Ol’ Cap ain’t good enough for the likes of yeh, that it?”
“That is not what I meant to imply, sir. But I do not—”
“It’s fine.” Gren jumped up and grabbed the redhead’s arm. “May as well enjoy ourselves ’til Noam gets here.”
“That’s the spirit!” Cap took Vrell’s hands and pulled her off her stump. He dragged her into the dancing crowd. But just as he jerked her close, the music stopped.
Vrell stepped back, pulling her hands from Cap’s as she went. “What a shame. The music has ended.” She turned toward her stump, but a new song began.
Cap circled Vrell and cut off her path. “This is one of my favorites.” He grabbed her hand, wrapped his other arm around her waist, and propelled her through the mob.
Vrell stumbled to keep up as he skipped back and forth and spun her around. Onlookers clapped and sang along.
Hail the piper, fiddle, fife,
The night is young and full of life.
The Corner teems with ale and song.
And we will dance the whole night long.
Hear the pretty maiden sing,
Hair and ribbons all flowing.
She can take my heart away,
By her side I long to stay.
Grab that maiden, kick your feet
Laugh