Jonathan looked absolutely splendid in their tuxes, though Deven as always cut an interesting figure with his facial piercings and spiky hair, which was, just now, shot through with violently red streaks. It was strange to Cora to see two men walking arm in arm the way all the other couples did, but it didn’t bother her the way it seemed to bother a few of the others standing around her. She knew that Hart had considered Deven a deviant, but it surprised her anyone else would. Hart was a fool—surely they all knew that?
Still, there were a few uncomfortable expressions among the Pairs, and Cora frowned, feeling protective of the Pair. Deven had been a good friend to her, and she was quite fond of Jonathan, and if anyone had a problem with them, well, they were as wrongheaded as Hart.
Shortly thereafter, the herald made his last introduction:
“The hosts of this decade’s Council gathering: Prime David Solomon of the Southern United States and his Queen, Miranda.”
Cora’s smile returned.
This time the applause was practically deafening; the Council seemed determined to show appreciation, if not to win favor with the host Pair. Surely they were an impressive sight, elegant and regal, perfectly matched. Miranda’s cascade of garnet curls was held up atop her head; she wore a shimmering gown that showed off every inch of her curvaceous figure. Prime David’s blue eyes swept the entire room in a heartbeat, missing nothing, and the power radiating from the two of them was like a storm cloud of burnished silver.
When they reached the ground, the orchestra changed its tune, striking up a lively waltz; Pairs all around Cora joined in to dance.
Jacob leaned in and whispered, “Just this one, my darling, and we’ll get you out of the center of attention.”
Cora nodded her assent and put her hand on his shoulder.
As they made their way around the room, she had toremind herself over and over to keep in step—it was hard not to get distracted with so much grandeur to stare at. She and Jacob had practiced dancing at home for weeks, and she had taken to it readily enough, though she vastly preferred her yoga; but waltzes had been the hardest to learn, and she had to count in her mind a few times to avoid stumbling.
At last the song was over, but the exhausting part of the evening had just begun; now it was time to make the rounds among Jacob’s allies, meeting and greeting, and she kept a smile plastered to her face, though the whole time all she could do was cast anxious glances around for Hart.
Every Pair was different, though they all had the same air of royalty and immortal grace. She knew that the handful who were hostile toward the entire Signet system abstained from the Council meetings entirely, and because Signets were autonomous, no one could be forced to attend, but even among those who were here, she could feel the eyes on her with varying degrees of interest, lust, disdain, even vague hostility. Most of the men here were killers, with no regard for human life, and she could feel the menace from many of them—directed not toward her, but toward the entire world. She couldn’t imagine giving her loyalty to them, but they all had followers, even fanatics. Again she sent up her gratitude to God for leading her to Jacob and not another.
“All right,” Jacob finally said, leading her off to the side of the ballroom. “Why don’t you rest here a moment out of the way and get your bearings? I’ll get us something to drink.”
She wanted to protest his leaving her alone, but on second thought she decided she didn’t want to be that woman. She didn’t want to be afraid or to demand that he stay by her side and protect her, as if she were some helpless child. She might not be a warrior, but as she had said, she belonged here as much as anyone else.
Cora moved as close to the wall as she could and tried to mimic Vràna’s ability to become invisible. After a moment, she found herself watching the
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