Read Online A Posse of Princesses by Sherwood Smith - Free Book Online Page B

newcomers joined the talk, she
realized that she was having more fun now than she’d had yet. Maybe
the perfect party had less to do with everyone being beautiful and
fashionably dressed, and more to do with everybody having a good
time, talking and laughing? And of course dancing.
    The talk shifted from weather to riding to
horses and then to life in the mountains—and back to weather.
Everyone had stories to tell about famous winters high up, when
snow had blocked them in for what seemed ages. Shera told some
funny stories about tricks her dreamy uncle had pulled on some of
the stuffier courtiers, which set them all to laughing; they were
soon joined by three or four boys, one of whom kept trying—in a shy
way that caused sympathetic pangs in Rhis—to talk to the impervious
Taniva.
    Shera and one of the new boys, a thin,
pale-haired fellow named Glaen, kept exchanging mock compliments
that were really insults, keeping everyone within earshot in a fizz
of hilarity.
    It was getting harder to hear everyone. The
conversation began breaking into little groups when a horn tooted
for attention, and a herald announced that the singers from the
south would not arrive in time for their concert, as a bridge had
washed out on the main road a day’s ride south. Therefore the usual
dancing would take place.
    So everyone rose to go in to the great salon
adjoining for the impromptu dance. Somehow Rhis’s group had become
the largest in the room, and judging from the laughter, was having
the most fun.
    They found an empty corner with seats enough
for everyone. Out on the floor, a number of couples had already
lined up for one of the dances.
    “Your eyes,” Glaen said, “—as beautiful as
ice at the bottom of a well—entreat me to invite you to partner me
in the promenade.”
    Shera swept a mock curtsey. “Delightful
notion, if only to hear again the entrancing knocking of your
knees.”
    “Beauteous princess! Singeth like the frog o’
morning.”
    “Handsome heir-to-a-barony! Speaketh like
unto the cricket o’ eve!”
    Dandiar neatly sidestepped a slow clump of
people, leaving the tall, shy Lord Somebody next to Taniva.
    “M-may . . .” the poor fellow murmured.
    Taniva was looking about—she obviously didn’t
think he was talking to her.
    “May I . . .”
    Dandiar glanced at Rhis, his eyes so
obviously verging on laughter she muffled a giggle into her sleeve.
Dandiar flicked a look toward the dancers, and his brows arched in
question.
    She held out her hand, and Dandiar said a
little louder than necessary, “Taniva, why don’t you and Breggan
here join us in starting a second line?”
    Taniva looked bewildered, then shrugged.
“Dancing,” she said, as though it was as strange and new an idea as
balancing peas on their noses. She seemed to be completely unaware
of the grateful smile on poor Breggan’s face.
    As the four walked out to begin a new line,
others followed behind them. Rhis whispered to her partner, “That
was smooth. How I wish I had your poise!”
    “Oh, it’s trained into us,” Dandiar said,
with a smile.
    “Then maybe that’s what my parents ought to
have done,” Rhis said with a sigh. “Sent me to a scribe school. I
could even have learnt other languages.”
    “Was your education so poor, then?” Dandiar
asked as they extended their hands, hers on his, and pointed their
right toes forward.
    “Yes,” Rhis began, but bit back the usual
list of complains. She thought of Elda, and Sidal, and added
contritely, “No. It’s just that I paid little heed to what bored
me, and instead I spent my time with what I liked doing. Such as
sitting in my tower with my tiranthe and my ballads—” She
remembered then that princesses were not supposed to like either of
those things.
    Dandiar didn’t appear to notice. As the
musicians in the gallery began the opening promenade, he said, “You
wouldn’t be the first one in this room, boy or girl, to have spent
more time avoiding learning than in