Read Online Dark Dreams by Rowena Cory Daniells - Free Book Online
Authors: Rowena Cory Daniells
Tags: Fantasy
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welcomed by the flustered palace footman. Behind the old lord an entourage of servants waited, wary but curious.
This meant more places to set at the feast tonight, more volatile tempers to soothe. The Keld had not yet formally surrendered or offered fealty to General Tulkhan, and the situation was extremely delicate.
What must her southern cousins think of her, aiding and abetting the invader? Surely they realised she had to choose the path of least resistance to ensure her survival, just as they must give lip-service to General Tulkhan to avoid having their lands and titles forfeited?
What good was honour if you were dead?
Below her the master of the bedchambers arrived and hastened to greet Lord Fairban. Imoshen smiled. Let the palace dignitary earn his keep. He could escort the new arrivals to their chambers while she spoke with the master of ceremonies and adjusted the seating.
But after this was done, Imoshen decided to deliver the dinner invitation to Lord Fairban’s daughters in person. She would need the support of the Keldon noblewomen if they were to civilise the Ghebites.
Imoshen plucked her metal comb from her key chain and scratched briefly on the door tang. To her trained ear every comb had a different sound. She could identify a servant or a noble by the note their comb made when run across a door’s metal tang. The Ghebites’ habit of thundering on doors grated on her nerves but it certainly identified them as a race.
Discarding protocol, she entered the suite’s outer chamber. A maid gave a muffled shriek and ran off to get her mistresses. The Fairban sisters entered, followed by curious maids laden with clothing and jewellery.
Trying to hide their surprise, they gave the obeisance appropriate for the Empress. But the Empress would not have slipped unannounced into their rooms. The younger two Fairban women exchanged stiff smiles and Imoshen recognised that tolerant, half-embarrassed look. They could not ignore her height and her colouring. She was so obviously pure T’En that even her own family had found her an embarrassment.
But she was not going to apologise for her existence. Instead, Imoshen studied the three women. Would they suit her purpose? The two younger girls were very like their father – small, fine-boned and truly of the people – but the eldest who stepped forward graciously was nearly her own height.
‘I greet you, T’Imoshen,’ Lady Cariah said. In her bearing Imoshen recognised the polish of the Old Empire. The woman was several years older than her, in her early twenties.
A pang of insecurity stabbed Imoshen. How she longed to have that air of effortless elegance. Again she was reminded of the painfully self-conscious sixteen-year-old she had been on her first visit to the palace less than two years ago. Just finding her way about the endless rooms had been a challenge, without trying to unravel the politics of the court. But she was no longer that child. She had a role to play and she needed the Fairban sisters’ cooperation to do it.
Imoshen took the older woman’s hand, returning her formal greeting.
She couldn’t help admiring Lady Cariah’s hair. It fell around her shoulders like a shawl of burnished copper. Good. All three of the Fairban women were beautiful enough to arouse the interest of the Ghebite commanders.
‘I am honoured to greet you and your sisters. We need the civilising influence of your presence at...’ Imoshen’s fingers curled around Cariah’s, the invitation on the tip of her tongue, but all thought fled as she registered the oddity of the woman’s hand. Lord Fairban’s eldest daughter had six fingers. She did not have the wine-dark eyes, but she carried the T’En blood.
Startled, Imoshen’s gaze darted to Cariah’s face. She read tolerant amusement in the older woman’s gaze.
Heat flooded Imoshen’s cheeks. She was no better than the younger Fairban women. Yet, why did they find her T’En characteristics disturbing when
This meant more places to set at the feast tonight, more volatile tempers to soothe. The Keld had not yet formally surrendered or offered fealty to General Tulkhan, and the situation was extremely delicate.
What must her southern cousins think of her, aiding and abetting the invader? Surely they realised she had to choose the path of least resistance to ensure her survival, just as they must give lip-service to General Tulkhan to avoid having their lands and titles forfeited?
What good was honour if you were dead?
Below her the master of the bedchambers arrived and hastened to greet Lord Fairban. Imoshen smiled. Let the palace dignitary earn his keep. He could escort the new arrivals to their chambers while she spoke with the master of ceremonies and adjusted the seating.
But after this was done, Imoshen decided to deliver the dinner invitation to Lord Fairban’s daughters in person. She would need the support of the Keldon noblewomen if they were to civilise the Ghebites.
Imoshen plucked her metal comb from her key chain and scratched briefly on the door tang. To her trained ear every comb had a different sound. She could identify a servant or a noble by the note their comb made when run across a door’s metal tang. The Ghebites’ habit of thundering on doors grated on her nerves but it certainly identified them as a race.
Discarding protocol, she entered the suite’s outer chamber. A maid gave a muffled shriek and ran off to get her mistresses. The Fairban sisters entered, followed by curious maids laden with clothing and jewellery.
Trying to hide their surprise, they gave the obeisance appropriate for the Empress. But the Empress would not have slipped unannounced into their rooms. The younger two Fairban women exchanged stiff smiles and Imoshen recognised that tolerant, half-embarrassed look. They could not ignore her height and her colouring. She was so obviously pure T’En that even her own family had found her an embarrassment.
But she was not going to apologise for her existence. Instead, Imoshen studied the three women. Would they suit her purpose? The two younger girls were very like their father – small, fine-boned and truly of the people – but the eldest who stepped forward graciously was nearly her own height.
‘I greet you, T’Imoshen,’ Lady Cariah said. In her bearing Imoshen recognised the polish of the Old Empire. The woman was several years older than her, in her early twenties.
A pang of insecurity stabbed Imoshen. How she longed to have that air of effortless elegance. Again she was reminded of the painfully self-conscious sixteen-year-old she had been on her first visit to the palace less than two years ago. Just finding her way about the endless rooms had been a challenge, without trying to unravel the politics of the court. But she was no longer that child. She had a role to play and she needed the Fairban sisters’ cooperation to do it.
Imoshen took the older woman’s hand, returning her formal greeting.
She couldn’t help admiring Lady Cariah’s hair. It fell around her shoulders like a shawl of burnished copper. Good. All three of the Fairban women were beautiful enough to arouse the interest of the Ghebite commanders.
‘I am honoured to greet you and your sisters. We need the civilising influence of your presence at...’ Imoshen’s fingers curled around Cariah’s, the invitation on the tip of her tongue, but all thought fled as she registered the oddity of the woman’s hand. Lord Fairban’s eldest daughter had six fingers. She did not have the wine-dark eyes, but she carried the T’En blood.
Startled, Imoshen’s gaze darted to Cariah’s face. She read tolerant amusement in the older woman’s gaze.
Heat flooded Imoshen’s cheeks. She was no better than the younger Fairban women. Yet, why did they find her T’En characteristics disturbing when
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