was a flaming red. There were no trous that went with the gown and having her legs bare felt odd. Instead, she had a long damask jacket of the same color, with reinforced long square sleeve pockets so she didn’t have to carry a pursenal.
She looked down at the sandals next to her feet dubiously. It seemed indecent to be wearing just a sole with a bunch of straps, and with her toenails tinted the same red as her gown. When she was a girl, children wore such shoes in the summer, but not adults. Her feet hadn’t been exposed in public since then. Good, sturdy boots always protected them.
A snake or an animal could bite her! She grimaced, shook the thought aside. The shoes had cost a lot, but the tailor had insisted. She put them on, frowned at the fit. Shouldn’t they feel better?
Shunuk trotted up, angled his head back and forth, studying her feet. He gave a foxy grin. Nice. Then he sniffed at her, even swiped a tongue across her toes. Del hopped back, forgot the short heels on the shoes, fell into the wall. Shunuk laughed.
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” she said to her Fam. She’d be clumsy.
You smell and taste good, he said.
She’d rather Raz Cherry had told her that.
A knock came on the front door and she crossed and opened it to find a man in uniform there. “GrandLady D’Elecampane? I’m your driver for the evening.”
She started to grunt acknowledgment, then recalled she was in the city being a noble and would need words. So she nodded and stretched her mouth in a smile. “Thank you.” She’d paid an outrageous fee to a glider service to be available for a month. She prayed she’d be done in Druida by then.
Shunuk barked. The man glanced down. “Greetyou, FamFox. Do you attend the Spindles’ party, too? They have Fams in their Residence.”
Shunuk snorted and bolted out the door. The driver offered his arm and Del laid her fingers on it as if she’d need his assistance to walk the couple of meters to the glider. As she slid into the vehicle, she saw Shunuk sitting in shadows, ready for the adventure of the night. She wished she were anywhere but on the way to a party. He turned his head, lifted his lip, and his teeth gleamed. You smell and taste good, he said. Complementary to your mate.
Her heart gave a fast, hard thump. She hoped HeartMate mutual attraction would be good enough, because she felt gauche and wordless.
R az made his entrance into the Spindle ballroom on a wave of applause that warmed him. He smiled, bowed, and began to mingle. Everyone here liked the play, appreciated theater.
Most of the faces in the packed room were familiar. Some were wealthy producers who fanned hope that his success was being noted for the future. He wondered if any of them had a copy of Amberose’s new play.
As he sipped springreen wine, he scanned the crowd. His gaze stopped on a woman in red who he’d never seen. She was across the width of the ballroom, hovering near an arbor twined with honey-suckle, wearing a simple red gown and long jacket. Her hair was short, soft blond curls. Her skin held a golden tan, and he thought her eyes were pale green. Striking.
She appeared slightly awkward in the setting . . . her body quiet and stiff, not open and pliable. Observing, not part of the party, and not observing like an actor . . . or a writer or an artist. Like someone who didn’t entirely like people or being around them.
Interesting. Why was she here?
Not someone he knew, not someone who should have attracted him, since she also radiated impatience. But there was a certain something about her . . .
A look of contempt, hastily masked, crossed her face when two married-to-someone-else lovers discreetly slid into the arbor next to her for conversation. More and more interesting. Not a city woman, then, who was accustomed to marriages of convenience . . . but the way she held herself was noble . . . or so completely confident in herself that she knew she was a master of her craft. What could possibly be
She looked down at the sandals next to her feet dubiously. It seemed indecent to be wearing just a sole with a bunch of straps, and with her toenails tinted the same red as her gown. When she was a girl, children wore such shoes in the summer, but not adults. Her feet hadn’t been exposed in public since then. Good, sturdy boots always protected them.
A snake or an animal could bite her! She grimaced, shook the thought aside. The shoes had cost a lot, but the tailor had insisted. She put them on, frowned at the fit. Shouldn’t they feel better?
Shunuk trotted up, angled his head back and forth, studying her feet. He gave a foxy grin. Nice. Then he sniffed at her, even swiped a tongue across her toes. Del hopped back, forgot the short heels on the shoes, fell into the wall. Shunuk laughed.
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” she said to her Fam. She’d be clumsy.
You smell and taste good, he said.
She’d rather Raz Cherry had told her that.
A knock came on the front door and she crossed and opened it to find a man in uniform there. “GrandLady D’Elecampane? I’m your driver for the evening.”
She started to grunt acknowledgment, then recalled she was in the city being a noble and would need words. So she nodded and stretched her mouth in a smile. “Thank you.” She’d paid an outrageous fee to a glider service to be available for a month. She prayed she’d be done in Druida by then.
Shunuk barked. The man glanced down. “Greetyou, FamFox. Do you attend the Spindles’ party, too? They have Fams in their Residence.”
Shunuk snorted and bolted out the door. The driver offered his arm and Del laid her fingers on it as if she’d need his assistance to walk the couple of meters to the glider. As she slid into the vehicle, she saw Shunuk sitting in shadows, ready for the adventure of the night. She wished she were anywhere but on the way to a party. He turned his head, lifted his lip, and his teeth gleamed. You smell and taste good, he said. Complementary to your mate.
Her heart gave a fast, hard thump. She hoped HeartMate mutual attraction would be good enough, because she felt gauche and wordless.
R az made his entrance into the Spindle ballroom on a wave of applause that warmed him. He smiled, bowed, and began to mingle. Everyone here liked the play, appreciated theater.
Most of the faces in the packed room were familiar. Some were wealthy producers who fanned hope that his success was being noted for the future. He wondered if any of them had a copy of Amberose’s new play.
As he sipped springreen wine, he scanned the crowd. His gaze stopped on a woman in red who he’d never seen. She was across the width of the ballroom, hovering near an arbor twined with honey-suckle, wearing a simple red gown and long jacket. Her hair was short, soft blond curls. Her skin held a golden tan, and he thought her eyes were pale green. Striking.
She appeared slightly awkward in the setting . . . her body quiet and stiff, not open and pliable. Observing, not part of the party, and not observing like an actor . . . or a writer or an artist. Like someone who didn’t entirely like people or being around them.
Interesting. Why was she here?
Not someone he knew, not someone who should have attracted him, since she also radiated impatience. But there was a certain something about her . . .
A look of contempt, hastily masked, crossed her face when two married-to-someone-else lovers discreetly slid into the arbor next to her for conversation. More and more interesting. Not a city woman, then, who was accustomed to marriages of convenience . . . but the way she held herself was noble . . . or so completely confident in herself that she knew she was a master of her craft. What could possibly be
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