Masquerades - Kate Novak [127]
Olive cut a dashing figure in the green-and-white Thalavar livery, which included a huge, floppy hat bedecked with a great green plume. She wore a mask of silver glittering with fake emeralds. Alias could see other halflings in the crowd similarly costumed.
Thistle wore a veil of fine white lace over her face and was bedecked in a pink gown with a very high collar and short, ballooning sleeves. Long pink gloves covered her lower arms. As she approached Alias, her eyes were glittering with excitement.
"See what I have?" the young woman exclaimed, holding out her right arm for Alias to see.
Thistle's right glove was embroidered with a blue stitchwork very similar to Alias's own tattoo. Waves and thorns crested from wrist to elbow, but where Alias's pattern displayed a rose, the young noblewoman's featured a thistle.
Alias nodded politely, grateful that her face was masked and her amusement hidden.
"It is a compromise," Lady Nettel explained with a smile, "one that might keep her from attempting any major transformations in her appearance for a few months. Victor, I do not see your father here."
"My father was… detained," Victor replied, avoiding Alias's look. "He's asked me to stand in his stead until his arrival."
Alias was about to pull Victor aside and demand that he elaborate on his last statement, but Olive was tugging on the swordswoman's bodice to get her attention. "Did you and Dragonbait talk?" she whispered anxiously.
Alias frowned down at the halfling, wishing now that the mask she wore did not hide her displeasure. "This is not a good time, Olive," she growled.
Olive lowered her eyelids suspiciously, but with Lord Victor so near she did not dare elaborate. "Fine. I guess I'll go check out the buffet table."
Alias turned back to Victor, who was making excuses to Lady Nettel that he needed to circulate. Thistle asked Dragonbait to escort her and her grandmother about the room. The paladin nodded his assent. As he let each Thalavar woman take an arm and draw him off, he tilted his head in Victor's direction. His meaning was perfectly clear to the swordswoman.
"You said your father was going to be here," Alias declared heatedly.
"He is," Victor replied, nodding at a passing Thorsar dignitary. "We… talked this afternoon. When I showed him the key, he looked surprised, but he wouldn't speak about it. He promised that he would come later to talk to you and Durgar before the end of the ball."
"Victor," Alias stressed, "you have to go to Durgar with this right now. Your father could be using this time to flee the city."
Victor shook his head. "My father isn't going to flee. This is his city. I think maybe the key belonged to another noble, and Father is covering for him. He just needs time to decide how to handle this gracefully."
Alias shook her head at Victor's stubborn loyalty to the croamarkh. Part of her wanted to bolt the party immediately and track down Luer Dhostar, while the other part was willing to wait for Victor's sake, even though it probably meant losing the Faceless. She sighed and nodded. "I'll wait," she said.
"Good. Then, since you're waiting, we may as well dance. Would you do me the honor?" Victor asked, extending his arm. He froze for a moment as an uncomfortable thought occurred to him. "You can dance, can't you?" he asked.
"I can manage," Alias replied with a laugh.
Victor called the dance a Westgate procession, but Alias knew it as a Shadowdale reel. It was simple and repetitive, but Alias found herself enjoying it nonetheless. The orchestra was skilled and lively, and the nobles on the dance floor at least showed her no animosity. She looked into Victor's blue eyes, and her heart soared.
Along the sidelines, Dragonbait stood listening politely to Thistle as the young woman explained the origins of all the different