Midwinter

Mauritane had arrived in a coach with Silverdun and Faella, the two of them as cozy as lovers in a court ballad. If Silverdun wasn't careful, he could jeopardize everything. He'd assured Mauritane that nobody at this party could possibly recognize him; that they were much too far from the City Emerald for anyone to make the connection, but Mauritane was unconvinced. The only reason he allowed it at all was that Nafaeel refused to pay them their share of the mestina proceeds unless Silverdun put in an appearance. So he waited, his saber comfortably heavy under his cloak, and hoped for the best.

Another carriage arrived, and out of it stepped Satterly, dressed in one of Nafaeel's suits, followed by a woman in a sable cloak. It took Mauritane a moment to realize that the woman was Raieve. Her hair was pulled up, glamoured a reddish gold, and she was wearing makeup as well; her face was powdered white, her lips painted red. She was beautiful.

Satterly looked right past him, but Raieve caught Mauritane's eye and crossed the courtyard toward him, holding up the hem of the cloak to keep it from dragging on the ground.

"How do I look, Captain?" she said, smiling wickedly. She opened the cloak and Mauritane caught his breath. Beneath it was a dress the color of sapphires, its bodice low and bordered with lace. It conformed closely to her figure, gathered at the waist and then cascaded down to the ground. Mauritane realized that until now he had only seen her in her thick wool prison uniform and the traveling cloak she'd been wearing since they left Crete Sulace.

"This all belongs to Faella," she said. "She insisted I wear it. There may have been a bit of wine involved."

"I am… impressed," said Mauritane, suddenly finding it difficult to speak to her. "I would not have thought you comfortable in such clothing."

Raieve scowled, but her mood was unspoiled. "We have dresses in Avalon, too, Mauritane. We are not animals."

"I would not have thought otherwise," said Mauritane.

"Even during the worst of the Unseelie occupation, we danced," said Raieve. She moved closer to him. "Do you dance, Mauritane?"

He took a step toward her. "In happier times," he said.

She stepped even closer and he could feel her breath warm on his neck. His blood rose. "They say an Avalona woman is every man's dream: a lion on the battlefield, a swan on the dance floor, and a vixen in the bedroom."

Mauritane finally stepped back. "I can't see you as anything other than a soldier!" he said, a bit too loudly. "You must understand that. This…" he gestured toward the party, "this is a bit of playacting so that we can collect the money we need. Nothing more. Keep that in mind, will you?"

"Of course," said Raieve, her eyes blazing and her jaw set. Her voice lowered. "I must have forgotten myself."

"I'm sorry," said Mauritane, as she turned and started back toward Satterly.

"You should be," she hissed over her shoulder.

* * * *

Inside the home's large banquet hall, the party was well under way when Silverdun arrived with Faella. He winced a bit when his name was announced with fanfare, but a quick scan of the room revealed no one who looked remotely familiar. Surely in a city like Estacana there would be no trouble.

"Keep your head up, love," scolded Faella, rapping his shoulder. "You act as though you've been caught cheating at cards."

"You have no idea the things at which I've been caught cheating," he said, swallowing heavily.

Faella was radiant. All eyes were on her, and Silverdun could see that this was everything she'd ever wanted. A poor girl, the daughter of a commoner, draped across the arm of a nobleman. Silverdun sighed. Despite his worries, he had to admit that he was in a way more comfortable than he'd been in years. He'd always been better with verbal sparring than with a blade. The life of the pretty folk, however shallow it might actually be, was a beautiful thing to behold.

"They're all looking at us," Faella whispered. "Is that what it's like?"

"What what is like?"

"To be of the nobility?"

"I suppose," said Silverdun.

"I see a great future for us," she said. "Oh, so much." Silverdun hoped she was talking about their night together at the inn, but he feared that she meant something rather more involved. Still, he reasoned, he'd eluded girls far more skilled in coquetry than Faella. It was only a matter of the right words at the right moments and she'd never even realize that she'd been dumped. If nothing else, he would be gone in the morning; that was the one saving grace of being on a secret mission, wasn't it?

And yet, he'd enjoyed himself as a mestinal. More than he cared to admit. As he and Faella stepped onto the dance floor and began moving with the music, he began thinking about what it might be like traveling with Faella and her mestina, savoring the applause in all the cities of the kingdom.