“No, sire. I just—”

“The discussion is over. You know my wishes. That is all.” With a final glare, the king swung away. Gavril had no choice but to bow to his father’s back and depart. His face was on fire, and his pride smarted from having been dismissed like a servant.

Seething, Gavril left the king’s apartments. Once again, Dain had appeared at the root of his troubles. How dare that despicable worm of a serf-born pagan dare to even lift his eyes to her? This is what came of allowing the riffraff acceptance at court. It was bad enough that Dain had been made a chevard, with all the privileges thereof, but now he thought himself as good as a prince.  Well, tonight he would learn different.

Gavril headed for the ball, where already he could hear music playing. A cold, cruel smile played on his lips. Tonight, if Arvt did as he promised, would be Dain’s last.

Jostled by the crowd of people eager to fawn over the king’s mistress, Pheresa moved away from the others and walked over to admire the tables of refreshments.  Orange gourds carved into bowls held aromatic delicacies, and the bread loaves were warm from the oven and freshly sliced. She was hungry, for since receiving Prince Gavril’s tribute of flowers this afternoon she’d been too excited to eat.  Smiling to herself, she twirled the spray of yellow blossoms in her fingers. Her heart was beating a rapid dance of its own in eager anticipation. It had taken all her patience and fortitude to wait, but at last his highness was paying her court. She’d been so astonished this afternoon when the page came running in to give her the enormous bundle of yellow and blue flowers tied with moon vine.  She’d recognized them at once, for they came from the prince’s garden and were his personal colors.

How the other maidens had gathered around her, oohing and admiring this bountiful tribute that had come so unexpectedly. There were so many flowers, the vases could not hold them all. Their fragrance had overwhelmed her small room, and she’d left many of them lying atop her bed, to scent it for her slumbers later tonight. It was a lavish, princely gift, and it made up for how Gavril had neglected her.

She smiled to herself, not caring tonight if others observed her happiness.  Gavril had not written a note to her, or perhaps he had and the page had lost it. She did not care. He would come and find her. Tonight, her patience knew no bounds.

“Good eventide, my lady,” said a familiar voice. Pheresa glanced up and found Dain standing before her. She smiled in gladness to see her friend. As he stood there, looking tall and handsome in his own exotic, foreign way, she saw the kindness in his pale gray eyes and realized she’d missed his company.  “Hello,” she said. “This is the first time I’ve seen you since your return.

Welcome back to Savroix.”

“Thank you. A journey of any distance is sweetened by the welcome home of dear friends.”

Her brows lifted in surprise. He’d acquired some polish since he left. This new assurance and suavity impressed her a great deal. Twinkling, she gave him her hand and was impressed yet again when he bowed smoothly over it. He might have been born a lord, she thought.

“You are very kind, Lord Dain,” she said. “Do you think the king will appear tonight? I am famished, but we may not eat until he arrives to open the ball.” Dain glanced around. Despite his new manners, he’d retained his natural alertness and erect bearing. When he looked across the room, it was with an eagle gaze. He seemed to see so much more than any of the rest of them could discern. She had the feeling that were danger ever to strike, it would be Dain who would react first, who would know exactly what to do. Being with him made her feel safe.

“I think I hear his majesty coming now,” Dain said.

Pheresa frowned. All she could hear was music and the babble of voices, but moments later trumpets sounded and the heralds came sweeping into the room to announce the king.

She stared at Dain in amazement. “Your ears are very keen, my lord.” He smiled, his taut lean face bronzed from the southern sun. “Sometimes a blessing, my lady. Sometimes not. You look beautiful tonight.” Pleased by the compliment, she swept her hand across the lovely lines of her blue skirt. She had chosen this color as a reply to Gavril’s tribute, but now she wondered if he was even coming.

Then, as the crush of people surrounding the king moved aside, she saw the prince standing across the room. All the blood seemed to leave her head, and she was suddenly faint and unable to breathe.

“My lady?” Dain asked in concern, stepping closer to her. “Are you well?”

She struggled to regain her composure. “I—yes, of course.”

“Will you dance with me then?”

Surprise made her laugh. “Have you learned the steps?”

“Of course. You said I would need to, and I have obeyed my lady’s commands.”

Grinning, Dain bowed to her.

With a smile, Pheresa curtsied and put her slender hand in his. “I am pleased to accept this dance.”

Dain proved to be an excellent dancer, and as she became aware of the admiration of other couples, Pheresa’s own high spirits carried her, smiling and happy, lightly through the spinnade with twinkling feet before she ducked beneath the clasped hands of the others and took her place at the end of the line. In a moment, Dain joined her. His gray eyes were smiling, and his black hair curled slightly on his brow. When his hand grasped hers to lead her through the second part, she marveled at the strength of his fingers. His hands were slender and well-shaped, speaking of his noble blood, however mysterious his origins. He never stopped smiling at her, and the blood swirled in her head until she felt giddy. He had never been this charming before. He seemed to have lost all his shyness. In its place was an assurance that made him seem older and much more mature. But, as suave and appealing as he’d become, Pheresa found herself missing the old shy, unsure, gawky Dain she had befriended during his first days at court.

The dance ended with a flourish, and Pheresa was spun unexpectedly against Dain’s chest. She laughed. He released her at once, laughing in return, then his gaze sobered.

“Would you like some fresh air?”

She carried her grandmother’s fan and used it with pretty little turns of her wrist. “I would rather have something to eat.”

Dain escorted her to the tables and stood by while she sampled the treats there.

Again she looked for Gavril, and saw him with a cluster of his friends.  The prince’s gaze, however, was on her. She smiled at him, thrilled to know she had his attention. He frowned and turned his head away.  Her spirits came tumbling down. She stared at the spiced apple in her hands while her vision blurred with tears. Was he angry because she was talking to Dain?

Then Pheresa’s own anger, deep-rooted and born of many such humiliating occasions, came surging up inside her. Stiffening, she lifted her head. Let the prince be angry. He had no right to dictate her actions. Compressing her mouth, she threw down the yellow flower she’d been holding all evening.  Dain bent and picked it up. “Does this no longer please you, my lady?” She did not want it. She loathed it. But she accepted it back with her face aflame.

“I do want some fresh air, please,” she said softly.

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and escorted her out through the open doors to the dimly lit balcony overlooking some of the gardens. She could hear the faint splashing of a fountain. The air smelled fragrant, soft, and clean after the perfumed, overheated rooms inside.

Gripping the stone balustrade, she inhaled deeply and vowed to herself that never again would she let Gavril do this to her. She must destroy her infatuation with him. She must swallow her pride and ask the king for permission to leave court. He’d been a kind uncle to her. He would surely agree to arrange a different marriage at her request. She’d lost her gamble, and whatever game Gavril sought to play with her was at an end. She would no longer let herself be an object for his cruelty.

“Pheresa,” Dain said softly from the shadows. “Thank you for wearing my flowers tonight. I hope this means that you carry some affection in your heart for—” “What?” she said abruptly. “What flowers?”

“These.” He took the yellow bloom from her fingers and lifted it to his nostrils, then his hand stole up and gently caressed her hair. “And these. I have never given flowers to a lady before. I wasn’t sure—I didn’t know if you would like them.”

Astonishment filled her, driving away her other thoughts. She turned around to face him. “Are you saying you—it was you who sent these to me?” “But of course,” he replied in puzzlement. “I thought you knew.” She drew in a ragged breath, her mind reeling. “No. I—I didn’t. Dain, where did you get them?”

“I picked them from one of the gardens. They are at the end of their season, and it seemed a shame to let them go to waste.”

Appalled, she knew not what to say. “Did anyone see you?” “I don’t know.” He took a step closer to her in the darkness and pressed his lips to her hair. “What does it matter, as long as they pleased you?”