Pantomime Page 15

  The music started. In the past, all debutante balls took place in Imachara and young ladies were presented before the king or queen, who would kiss the young women on the forehead, blessing their new lives as women as opposed to girls. But as the current Princess Royal was only six years of age and the Steward, her uncle Ira Snakewood, had no interest in performing such a duty, smaller debutante balls were held in the larger cities – Imachara, Sicion, and Niral. I was glad for it – I did not think I would be able to handle a debutante ball three or four times the size of this. The murmur and chatter of the guests downstairs in the ballroom floated up to us: hundreds of lords and ladies and their sons and daughters, waiting for us.

  The girls left the hallway one by one, their names called as they floated down the staircase to the music. When these girls had previously been announced at balls and other functions, they had been referred to as "miss." Now, they were "ladies."

  "Lady Darla Hornbeam." Applause sounded as Darla descended the stairs in her pale golden dress.

  "Lady Winifred Poplar."

  "Lady Tara Cypress."

  Name after name, pale dress after pale dress descended, until it was our turn. My stomach felt as though it would explode with nerves, the trapped birds and butterflies escaping from my stomach and fluttering about the room. I swallowed and pasted a smile on my face.

  "Lady Anna Yew."

  Anna flashed me a smile over her shoulder and gathered her pink skirts, holding her head high as she glided down the stairs.

  "Lady Iphigenia Laurus." I straightened my shoulders and stepped into the bright light of the ballroom, making my way down the wide, marble stairs. The stone was slippery, and I feared falling. That would make quite an impression, and I imagined myself tumbling head over heels down the stairs, landing in an ungraceful heap of chiffon, ribbon, and lace. The smile that curled my mouth widened.

  The lights of the golden glass globes blinded me from the upturned faces of the nobility below me. I reached the bottom of the stairs without mishap, and the matrons of each of the Twelve Trees of Nobility waited for me at the bottom to kiss my forehead and seal my new life as a woman: Lady Oak, Lady Hornbeam, Lady Cyprus, Lady Poplar, Lady Elm, Lady Ebony, Lady Balsa, Lady Redwood, Lady Ash, Lady Walnut, and Lady Cedar. Lady Snakewood, the queen's aunt, was not able to attend. Their kisses were as light as dried leaves whispering across my forehead. Everyone, including me, was solemn and grave as the fifteen sixteen-year-old daughters of their nobility marked their way into womanhood.

  The girls gathered in an outward-facing circle toward the guests ringing the Beach Ballroom. In unison, we curtsied, and the nobility applauded. The glass globes brightened and the ball began.

  Immediately, I gravitated toward the wall out of the way, wanting to people-watch before speaking to anyone. I still felt the echoes of the ceremony moments before. I knew it was only a ritual, but it had left me pensive. Was I now a woman? I still felt more like a boyish girl in a dress, out of place no matter how many jewels and silks I wore.

  I had not been to the Beach Ballroom since last year. The building was extraordinary – octagonal in shape, with diamond-paned glass windows staring out at the ocean in full sunset, the stars just beginning to twinkle into existence. The wooden floor was polished to a glistening shine, though showed evidence of long use. The ballroom was built on stilts to keep it well above the fluctuating tides near an outcropping of Penglass. Some of the domes were too high, but the architects decided to work with the Penglass rather than trying to find a different spot, as the view was too perfect. And so around the edges of the dance floor, the tops of Penglass domes peeked. Dancers were already lounging against the smooth blue glass, looking like pixies visiting their fairy rings. A lavish buffet of delicacies lined one wall, and the small orchestra was in the opposite corner, the musicians hunched over their instruments as they played classical music. A massive chandelier made of tiny glass globes hung suspended from the ceiling, each globe colored with an element to make them shine in blue, pink, purple, and a dark orange to mirror the sunset.

  Anna Yew was already flanked by two boys – Evan Redwood and Anthony Cedar. She laughed at something young Lord Cedar said, the diamonds in her ears flashing in the light, bringing attention to the column of her throat. I did not know when Anna had learned to enchant men so easily. I wondered if someone had taught her, or if it was simply something instinctual, some female part I had been born without.

  Winifred Poplar and Tara Cypress meanwhile flirted with Cyril. Cyril responded just as easily to their talk, smiling down at them in a way that must have caused the girls' hearts to quicken. Anna had not been lying when she had told me that Cyril would be a good catch – others seemed to feel the same way. But Cyril politely extricated himself from their clutches when he spied Elizabeth Rowan, his intended. The Lord and Lady Rowan had already spoken to my parents – it was all but decided, and Cyril seemed besotted. He bowed low over Elizabeth's hand and led her to the buffet table, fetching her a glass of wine. I smiled to see their courtship.

  Oswin sidled up next to me with a plate piled high with food.

  "Heya, Genie," he said, mid-chew. "You hungry?"

  "Hi, Oswin," I replied, eyeing the plate. "Absolutely starved." I stabbed a cheese-stuffed olive from his platter with a toothpick and ate it, the saltiness of the olives and sharpness of the cheese a delight. We made short work of the plate, using the toothpicks to skewer the small delicacies – salmon en croûte, roasted and pickled vegetables, rare and expensive sausages and cheeses, deviled eggs – so as not to dirty our gloved hands. When we finished, a servant came immediately to take the plate away. I felt better and more grounded with food in me, though now my stomach pressed even more unpleasantly against my corset.

  Oswin tugged at his cravat, which might have been almost as uncomfortable as my corset. "So are you searching for a wife tonight, young Lord Hawthorne?" I teased, lean ing against a Penglass dome, mindful of my gloves so that the surface did not touch my bare skin. Being near it calmed me.

  "No, though I bet my parents are," he said. "What about you – out to catch a husband?"

  "Not likely," I laughed. I was glad Oswin had come to speak with me so that I did not stand awkwardly on my own. I had always felt comfortable around him.

  The first dance had begun, and young future Lords and Ladies partnered off and twirled about the dance floor, the current Lords and Ladies looking on. "Look at Bart," Oswin said, pointing at Bartholomew Fir, a spoiled little rich boy I had never liked, and chuckling to himself. Bart missed every other step, swaying from side to side like some sort of dancing duck. His partner, Darla Hornbeam, was unamused. I giggled behind my gloved hand.

  "They're perfectly matched, aren't they?"

  "Aye, they're both insufferable," Oswin said. The first dance came to a close.

  "Hey, you want to dance?" Oswin asked. My head whipped around to face him. That was the last thing I had expected him to say.

  "Of… of course," I stammered.

  Oswin coughed, as if embarrassed by his outburst, and then bowed elaborately, his nose to his knees and held out his hand. "I meant to say: would Lady Iphigenia Laurus of the House of Laurus care for a short dance with the Lord Oswin Hawthorne?" he asked, in a voice uncannily like Rojer Cyprus's plummy tones.

  "She would be most delighted, Master Hawthorne," I said, inclining my head. He hesitated before putting his hand on my waist. This was very strange. Oswin had always been Cyril's friend and the boy I teased and who teased me in turn. This dance changed the dynamic.

  We swept cautiously onto the dance floor. Both of us had received copious dance lessons from our parents over the past few years, and so we knew the dances and the steps well enough, though neither of us performed with any sort of finesse. We twirled when we were supposed to and our feet followed the patterns, but our arms and legs were stiff and nervous. Oswin kept pulling faces to lighten the mood. I tried to stay very serious, but soon I found myself laughing. Our movements
loosened and we were merely two people having fun, tapping our feet against the floor planks, my skirt swirling like a bell behind me along with all the other dancing girls in the room.

  Oswin and I danced for four pieces in a row, before the music stopped so the Lady Hornbeam could give a brief speech, as she was the Lady with the highest social standing. Oswin and I were a little breathless and beamed at each other. I patted my hair, tucking the bits that had escaped into the plaited crown. Across the ballroom, I could see Mother watching us intently. My excitement faded as I read the blatant thoughts flickering across her face. A Hawthorne, she must be thinking. A Hawthorne boy would be a most valuable match. Would raise us another title…

  We switched partners, making our way in a circle to each other. I danced with my brother, and with Rojer, who could not dance at all.

  And then I found myself face to face with Damien.

  He started to smile, but it froze on his face. He refused to touch my hand. He would not meet my gaze, and in the middle of the dance he left the floor to the refreshments table. Luckily, the music ended, for the dance could not continue with one partner missing.

  I swallowed, turning my head away from Damien. People were exchanging looks between us, wondering what had happened. Gossip and rumors would fly faster than a gyrocopter. I pressed a hand tight against my nauseous, sore belly before I realized it might make people think I was with child. An impossibility, I was sure.

  Somehow, I made my way to my spot of wall. Oswin came with me, his brow puzzled. I ignored the questions he wanted to ask. I refused to let the tears fall. Damien did not matter to me. His look of revulsion should not matter. But it did.

  Perhaps sensing the lurch in the party, Lady Hornbeam tinged a glass with a fork, delicately. She told us the wellknown fable of the Lady of the Moon falling in love for the first time with the Lord of the Sun.

  "In the time before, all was the Darkness and there was nothing. The Sun and the Moon were separated from this darkness by the Styx, a river of blackness that no light could penetrate. But one day, the Lady of the Moon was so sad and so lonely that she began to cry. Each tear tumbled from her lovely face and became a shining star. The stars fell into the river Styx and one made its way to the Lord of the Sun, whose flames had dimmed in loneliness.

  "He cupped the star in his hand and walked upstream of the river, until he came to a spot where it was short enough to cross. There, he found the weeping Lady of the Moon. As soon as they saw each other, their light reflected off one another. The Sun's flames burst into radiance, and his light lit the Lady of the Moon. The forgotten tears scattered into the sky, only seen at night. And the Lord of the Sun and the Lady of the Moon began a dance that has lasted for millennia, dancing and circling around each other. Their light drove away most of the darkness of Styx, though death and darkness still take their toll, and their light warmed the world in which we now live.

  "Their dance continues. And tonight, several young boys and girls here today may begin a dance that lasts a lifetime."

  Polite applause erupted about the ballroom. Oswin pretended to puke, and I smiled, but I thought the story sweet. And sad. Even with their love, the Lord and Lady were still a world apart in that fable.

  And though I spoke with my friends and several other boys, time and time again Oswin and I found ourselves dancing together.

  Oswin and I grew overheated from the dancing and went outside to the balcony, drinking more cool wine and staring out at the ink-black sea. My head spun from the wine and the dance.

  "Having a good time?" I asked, leaning on the wooden bannister.

  "I am. Lots more fun than I thought I would."

  I half-smiled. Of the boys here tonight, if I had to marry one, I would choose Oswin. He could be thick and sometimes a little crude, but he was jovial and I found him favorable to look upon, with the freckles on his nose and his bright green eyes. Part of me wondered if, perhaps, I could one day fit into this life, if I had a companion like Oswin who made me laugh. But, as ever, I wondered what Oswin would think of me, if he knew the whole truth. He might very well react as Damien had, which made me feel as though someone had punched me in the stomach. I sipped my wine again, and pushed the thought from my mind.

  "What got Damien's panties in a twist, do you know?"

  The small smile fled my face. "I don't know. I just don't think he likes me."

  "Well, I guess that's his loss," he said, nudging me in the shoulder again. "You're a good 'un, Genie." He grinned and downed the rest of his wine.

  "Come," I said, taking him by the hand. "I think it's time for more dancing."

  16

  SUMMER: MICA IN GRANITE

  "The branches of the Twelve Trees cast the trunk and the roots in shadow. For centuries they have been our monarchs, the successive ruler chosen through divine right rather than by the people and for the people. The nobility have sunshine and greenery in the Emerald Bowl, more wealth spent on one article of Vestige than many of us will make through the course of our entire lives. For us, they leave little more than dirt and foul humors. Sign the petition. Join the movement. Become a Forester."

  LEAFLET FOR THE FORESTER PARTY

  "Let's go into the city today, Micah," Aenea said to me over breakfast one morning.

  "What about practice?" I asked, my mouth half-full of porridge. My mother would be appalled.

  "You deserve a day off after yesterday," she said. I had mastered a double back flip.

  "Where will we go?"

  "I don't know, we'll wander. It is our last day in Sicion, after all," she said. "We should say our goodbyes."

  Last day in Sicion. So far, I had only been thinking of going to Imachara, rather than thinking of leaving Sicion. I had been to Imachara before, for fringe court functions we could garner with our name, but it had mainly been to go to stuffy operas, plays, and balls where I was expected to dance with men of a suitable age and background. I had not actually explored the city.

  I wondered if I would return to Sicion during the next circus season, if I were still a member. No longer would I be close enough to my brother and my parents to return home within an hour if I changed my mind.

  Would I ever return? There were no guarantees I would be with Bil's circus a year from now. I had given so little thought to my future over the past few weeks, trying to avoid thinking of my family to avoid the pain of leaving them. I planned only until the next moment, the next meal to be eaten, the next flip to be mastered, and the show each night. I focused on Aenea's face.

  "Yes," I said. "Let's go."

  We brought our platters to the cook and raced each other to the carts to gather our belongings. Arik was inside, lounging on his bunk and reading. He looked over the battered book at us as I grabbed my coin purse from the dregs of my pack and re-laced my shoes.

  "What are you children up to?" he asked.

  "Micah deserves a day off, and I think our muscles could use the extra rest as well," Aenea said.

  Arik nodded. He had not said anything, but there was a stiffness to his movements lately. "We're going into the city, to say our goodbyes to Sicion."

  Arik closed the book. "You'll bid your farewells as I welcome it as home. That is fitting."

  "What?" we asked at nearly the same moment.

  "I'm resigning tonight. While you're gone, I'm going to tell Bil that I won't be going on to Cowl or Imachara."

  "With no warning?"

  "The way he treated Mara last night, a night's notice is all he deserves."

  "He might hold your last few weeks' pay," Aenea warned.

  Arik shrugged. "So be it. I still have enough for my little room. That's all I need."

  Aenea had told me that the room he was buying was in a flat owned by his longtime lover, who he only saw in the winters and never mentioned. It seemed everybody had their secrets.

  "But what about the trapeze act?" I asked.

  Aenea smiled a little sadly. "I've done solo acts before."

  I was qu
iet. Our triad was fracturing after it had just found its balance. That uncertain future opened its jaws wider.

  "Don't think of me today," Arik said. "Go out and enjoy yourselves. I'll see you before I go."

  It was easier said than done. Aenea and I trudged up the beach and toward the promenade. The bright sun warmed our shoulders and the backs of our heads. The sand shifted beneath our feet, but the wind off the ocean was cool and bitter.

  I glanced at Aenea every now and then. Her hair, usually tied up and out of the way in elaborate buns or braids, flowed freely over her shoulders. She wore a simple dress of pale green linen that trailed against the sandy promenade, tied with a pink sash about the waist.