Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [73]
I noticed various lords and ladies flirting and striking bargains to work in tandem. Raul gave a courtly little bow to Sidonie. "With your permission, it would be my honor to assist you, your highness," he said to her in D'Angeline with a trace of a soft Aragonian accent.
"Thank you." She colored slightly. "And please, call me Sidonie."
"Sidonie." He smiled at her. "All right, Sidonie."
"Heartless child of mine!" Nicola laughed. "Will you leave me to fend for myself?"
"Are you willing to accept the aid of a humble chevalier, my lady?" Ti-Philippe asked promptly.
"A hero of the realm?" She laid a hand on his sleeve. "With pleasure."
Phèdre looked at Joscelin, who rolled his eyes. "You have to ask?" he said.
No one had spoken to Alais. She bowed her head, fidgeting with Celeste's collar. It was not easy on her, always being the youngest in Court gatherings. Although she was near to becoming a young woman in her own right and carried the burden of her birthright, she was treated like a child. I knew what it was like to be caught between both worlds.
I got to my feet and made her an absurd, sweeping bow. "Your highness," I said. "Shall we demonstrate the proper picking of apples to these fine people?"
Her face brightened as she looked up at me. "Yes, thank you."
"It is," I said solemnly, "my deepest pleasure."
At a nod from the horologist, Ysandre called the start. The strolling musicians came together in a neat band and struck up a lively tune. Everyone scattered, the men racing for trees, the women gathering their skirts and hurrying after them, trailed by servants bearing baskets.
With the speed of youth on our side, Alais and I got a good tree, still heavily laden on top. I clambered easily onto the lower limbs, then made the mistake of looking outward.
It was something to see, a handful of D'Angeline noblemen attempting to scale apple trees without soiling their rustic finery. They were spectacularly inept. I laughed so hard I nearly lost my perch.
"Imri!" Below, Alais danced from foot to foot. "Hurry, please!"
"I'm going." I climbed higher and began plucking apples. I tossed them down lightly, "Catch, cousin!"
It was an absurd scene, with most of the participants manifestly unsuited. Some acquitted themselves well; one, at least, was handicapped by his skill. I wrapped my legs around a sturdy limb and picked everything within reach, dropping apples one by one. Alais gathered them and put them into a wooden basket, aided surreptitously by the servant bearing it, while Celeste looked on in bewilderment at the inexplicable activities of humankind.
Elsewhere, I could hear the thud and squelch of ripe apples being hurled with unerring accuracy, and Phèdre's aggrieved voice rising. "Joscelin, stop throwing them so hard!"
"Sorry!" he called in an unrepentant tone.
There was no contest, in the end. Ti-Philippe had been a sailor under the command of the Royal Admiral Quintilius Rousse. He scaled the upper limbs of his tree as easily as a ship's rigging, and shook the limbs hard. Apples rained down like hailstones. When he had stripped it barren, he clambered back down and assisted the Lady Nicola in filling their baskets.
When a quarter hour had passed, the musicians' instruments fell quiet and a laughing Ysandre called an end to the contest. I descended, twigs catching at my hair.
"We didn't do too badly, did we?" Alais said complacently, eyeing our half-full basket.
"No," I said. "Quite well, I think."
The formal count was pointless; Ti-Philippe and Nicola had filled two baskets to brimming. No one else had filled even one.
"Will you claim your forfeit, chevalier?" Ysandre asked.
Ti-Philippe bowed to the Lady Nicola. "I cede it to you, my lady."
"Oh, do you, now?" Her face was alight with mirth. If I had not disliked her so, I would have owned, she was a lovely woman. "Well, then, I claim