Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [106]
We did; and so did they.
"Phèdre!" It was Queen Ysandre herself who hailed us. She came toward us, Sidonie and Alais in tow, flanked by members of her Guard. The Queen was dressed as the personification of Summer, while her daughters were Spring. She gave Phèdre the kiss of greeting. "My dear, what are you tonight?"
"Freyya," Phèdre said calmly. "A Skaldic deity."
There was a little pause. The Queen's brows rose. "All of you?"
"I am Donar!" Eamonn said helpfully, brandishing his hammer. "God of thunder!"
Ysandre blinked. Her gaze passed over Eamonn and Ti-Philippe, coming to rest on me. "And you, Prince Imriel?"
I bowed low, my head heavy with silver ribbon. "Baldur, your majesty, god of light."
The moment made me tense, but in the end, Ysandre merely sighed. "You do like to make matters interesting, my dear," she said. "So be it. Let this be a measure of the peace we have established. Be welcome. May the Longest Night pass swiftly, and light return."
We toasted one another with joie. It is a rare liqueur distilled from flowers that blossom in the snowdrifts of the Camaeline Mountains and its taste is indescribable; at once cool on the palate and burning in the belly. Alais' eyes widened as she sipped hers.
"Your first taste?" I asked her.
She shook her head vigorously. "No, Mother let me try it last year, but I'd forgotten." She laughed breathlessly. "It's my first Masque, though! I've leave to stay until the Sun Prince arrives."
"You look lovely, young highness," Eamonn said gallantly. "Will you save a dance for me?"
"Oh, yes!" Alais blushed. "Thank you."
"I am honored." He bowed to her, giving me a wink.
It was true. She did look lovely, clad all in lavender with a matching mask, and a golden wreath on her black curls set with amethysts fashioned to look like violets. Sidonie, clad in pale green the color of new leaves, complemented her. She stood upright as a little spear-maiden beside her younger sister, inscrutable behind her mask. In the background, the Queen's Guardsmen hovered, chosen to attend as a special honor. They wore domino masks with their usual uniforms, but I knew Maslin by his silver-gilt hair. An imp of perversity goaded me.
"Since Eamonn has claimed your sister, mayhap you will honor me with a dance later," I said to Sidonie.
Her lips curved in a faint smile. "Mayhap. I've never danced with a god of light." Sidonie studied me. "You look the part, cousin. Were you thinking to be asked to play the Sun Prince?"
I opened my mouth to reply, then frowned, remembering. Long ago, another Prince of the Blood had done so in the Night Court's pageant; Baudoin de Trevalion, who had been at the center of a plot to replace Ysandre as heir to the throne of Terre d'Ange.
In the end, he had been executed for it.
"Not I," I said lightly. "Trust me, highness, I've no such ambition."
She nodded slowly. "We will see."
Mercifully, Julien and Colette Trente appeared, tugging me away into the festivities. I spent a few minutes brooding over the exchange, then forgot it, losing myself in merriment. Wine and joie were flowing freely, and there was so much to see. Everywhere one turned, there was an array of fantastical figures; gods and goddesses, sprites, nymphs and demons, creatures out of story and legend, animals of all ilk. The masks lent a sense of abandon to the proceedings. One knew who one's companions were; and yet they were strange and unfamiliar, no longer themselves. It made one sense anything was possible.
"Wait until midnight," Julien whispered in my ear.
"What happens then?" I asked.
He brushed one finger along my jaw. "Almost anything you like, highness." I shook my head at him, and he made a face. "Oh, come! It's the Longest Night, Imri. You needn't be so untouchable."
"Do you need rescuing, cousin?"
I turned at the sound of Roshana's