15

With each sweep of Hyacinthe's long fingers as they describe deepening arcs, thoughts nag at the back of your mind. You cannot tell whether Hyacinthe is looking at you. Are they? Or is their gaze simply sweeping over the crowd and making the whole audience feel that way?

The music finishes with a flourish, and Hyacinthe bows low and gracefully. Teachers and students alike stand to applaud. Hyacinthe stands straight then, smiling fiercely.

It's the work of a moment to ascend the stage. You extend your hand to Hyacinthe. "Will you dance?"

They do not hesitate; tilting their head so the amber beads of their necklace catch the light, they put their hand in yours.

The musicians start a gentle waltz.

You dance graciously, but Hyacinthe wears a guarded expression. When your eyes meet, they give you a searching look as though trying to figure you out.

When you finish, it's with less aplomb than you hoped, and the applause, while polite, is less than thunderous. The dessert continues.

Next

Once the plates are taken away, the mingling begins once more. The hubbub rises, and laughter and squabbles alike grow louder. Asher's expression, while polite enough, is tense as they stand close at your side. When Hyacinthe approaches the two of you with a politely lowered gaze, Asher looks even more nervous.

Hyacinthe bows to the both of you, and turns to Asher. "Would you please introduce me to His Highness?" they say.

Their voice is soft, with the faintest hint of a northwestern lilt. They're wearing less dramatic makeup now, just a faint smudge of kohl around their dark eyes, and their uniform is immaculate. Their black, tightly coiled hair puffs out in a halo around their head.

Asher stands up very straight. "Yes, of course. His Highness Irad Motahhari of Westerlin, Mx. Hyacinthe Van Clare."

Hyacinthe bows again, even more deeply this time.

You look Hyacinthe up and down and give them a frank, admiring smile, and Hyacinthe lowers their gaze to the parquet floor.

"It's an honor to meet you, Your Highness," they say. "Performing for you is something I never dreamed would happen. And I was delighted that you were pleased enough to join me on stage."

Their tone is soft and very formal, certainly more formal than Trevelyan's.

Hyacinthe smiles graciously, without showing their teeth. "I'm so glad," they murmur.

They hesitate, just for a moment, looking uncertain.

"I hope you enjoyed the performance, in any case," they say.

"I particularly enjoyed the way you…" you start to say. Your mind goes blank. "You worked with the rhythm of the music."

Hyacinthe smiles politely, but without great enthusiasm.

Asher coughs politely. "I thought your performance was amazing," they say.

Hyacinthe beams at them. "Thank you, Mx. Garnett," they say, before turning to watch Pascal and Mr. Blanchard ascend the stage. The gong rings.

Next

Waiting for the hectic hubbub of chatter and laughter to die down, Hyacinthe clasps their hands and looks up at the stage. Mr. Blanchard surveys the crowd for a few minutes, and the hall gradually falls silent.

"I'm delighted that you've attended," he says, "and grateful that you've enjoyed yourselves. This marks Archambault and Gallatin growing closer together."

"And so it's a wonderful opportunity to announce," Pascal says, "that we will be running a joint overnight trip to Lake Linzona in a fortnight's time."

Archambault and Gallatin students alike gasp and murmur with anticipation. Pascal beams down at the crowd, looking delighted with himself. Asher, you note, does not look surprised.

Asher wears their best poker face, but Hyacinthe's face breaks into a huge smile.

"It's my favorite place to visit," they say. "You wouldn't believe how beautiful the water is there!"

"I'm looking forward to going," Asher murmurs.

"I understand the Linzona Theater is one of the finest in the valley," you say.

Hyacinthe bows politely. "Of course, Your Highness," they say.

Up on stage, Pascal raises a hand to gain the crowd's attention once more. "I'm sure Prince Irad Motahhari and Prince Javi would love to give their thanks to the Gallatin staff and students for their hospitality."

Javi practically runs up the steps to the stage. He gives the assembled students a sparkling smile. "I'm delighted to be here, and the food was stunning," he says. "King Mateo will be wildly jealous when I write and tell him."

Pascal looks at you expectantly and beckons you up.

You ascend the stage while Asher skulks at the side, and survey the hall. Dominique's in the middle of chatting with Hyacinthe, but Hyacinthe's attention is far more focused on you and Javi. Beaumont is sitting close to Trevelyan, arms folded, expression stormy; it looks like they were having an argument.

You nod briskly. "An excellent evening all round," you say. "As I'd expect."

The hall erupts in cheering. Mr. Blanchard looks deeply relieved, and claps along with the enthusiastic crowd.

Next

The party draws to a close, and the teachers usher you and the other Academy students to the doors. You follow them, blinking, into the darkness. As you head for the warm pools of light at the drive, the bite of winter in the air hits you; as though they feel the chill on your skin, Asher shivers.

"May I help you with your coat?" they say.

Do," you say.

Asher holds the coat for you at precisely the right height, then buttons it for you. Their movements are meticulous; they are careful to avoid even the most innocuous of touches. Yet you can still feel the faintest brush of their hands against fabric.

Savoring the warmth of good fabric surrounding you, you walk down the drive with Asher at your side. The carriages await.

After Crown Princess Josiane Models Blue Fascinator At Robesberg, Feather Factory Trade Booms

-Daily Letters

Sunlight sparkles on the water of Lake Linzona as your carriage draws up. Your hotel overlooks the lake: it's a looming, baroque building, all majestic dark stone and fanciful turrets. Late-blooming wisteria trails all around the entrance, filling the air with perfume. As you approach, Asher straightens their shoulders, looking as alert as usual but with a hint of excitement.

Dominique falls into step beside you. He looks scattered as he eyes the lake.

"Clemence said we had to sort out supplies for the Winter Ball," he says, "but I can't find the list anywhere. You haven't seen it?"

You shrug; you didn't even see the servants packing the bags. Dominique bites his lip, patting down his pockets.

"Well, anyway," he says. "Are you looking forward to the trip, Prince Irad Motahhari?"