4 Eating One’s Words #2
A distressing amount of the image was tinged enemy red.
Most of the League was occupied, save a few multicolored spots here and there near Fallspace or the Commonwealth.
Nearly all Urgan Despotate worlds were captured, save a sliver of stars bordering the Commonwealth in the Silesia sector.
Imperial forces occupied a good quarter of the Commonwealth’s stars, less-populated systems near the former League frontier, but the loss of resources and manpower hampered the Royal war machine.
The Empire even occupied some Noble Federation star systems, although Federation losses were minimal, having entered the war late.
As I mentally ticked off star systems lost to the Empire, I realized the princess was correct.
Of the scores of independent nations which had made up the League, fewer than half a dozen still held any habitable worlds.
The largest of those was Stelsylvania, which stubbornly clung to a cluster of star systems near the corner of Fallspace and the Commonwealth frontier.
“But enough of such depressing talk,” Marie said, interrupting my maudlin thoughts. “Tell me more of yourself and why you were chosen to assist Prince Aureli.”
Boleslaw’s warning flashed in my mind, so I decided to keep quiet about my former relationship with the Emperor.
“There’s not much to tell. My parents were landowners.
I was sent to a military academy to make my future, graduated in the cavalry, but before I could serve my seven years and retire to take over the family estate, the war started, and I’ve been fighting ever since.
I’m afraid I’ll be a very boring dinner companion compared to a princess. ”
Princess Marie gave a shy smile. “Being a princess is not so exciting. After so many years, one court function feels like another. But no one is boring, no matter what you say. Why did you join the cavalry? Dreams of being a dashing hero?”
That was an easy question to answer. “No, it was the hoversteeds. I practically grew up riding them. I knew, even in a war zone, I would rather be mounted than fight on foot or fly a ground shuttle. Do you ride?”
Marie blushed. “I do.”
“Really? What model do you have?” I asked.
“My steed was custom-built by the royal workshops on my homeworld,” she said, her voice low, as though she were sharing a shameful secret. I, on the other hand, was intrigued.
“What sort of engine do you have in there?”
Pleasant discussion of hoversteeds, power-to-weight ratios, forcewing loading, and the merits of advanced computer-assisted steering occupied the remainder of the dinner.
Princess Marie was a knowledgeable rider, and although she had spent her youth playing polo and foxhunting instead of racing and ranching like I had, we still agreed on many points regarding a good hoversteed.
The princess was intrigued by Tilly’s emergent SI, and as the dessert course was delivered, I offered to introduce the two, if Marie was interested.
“Of course I am. If we have time, I would love to meet your steed.”
By the time the tables were cleared away for dancing, I was rather pleased with my first attempt at international diplomacy.
Bowing low to the Allied heir, I asked, “Princess Marie, I would love to ask you the honor of this dance, but I am an indifferent dancer, and I understand you must have many more important partners to dance with.”
The princess smiled with real warmth instead of shy aversion. “I’m afraid I am already spoken for this dance, and the next, but I will find you during the reel.”
“How can you manage that? I thought the dance went down the line in order,” I asked. My memories of dancing as a youth included many failed attempts to line up opposite an attractive partner, only to wind up matched with a near-infant cousin or elderly grand-aunt.
“It is very possible to meet the person you wish to in a dance, if you know what you’re doing,” Princess Marie said, then promptly blushed bright crimson. She curtsied politely, then dashed off to find her dance partner almost before I had a chance to bow in return.
A setting note played, followed by the complicated prelude of a song with which I was unfamiliar.
I had no wish to embarrass my nation by fumbling my steps, so I drifted towards the balcony beyond the line of crystal columns to await a dance I half remembered.
The sun had set during dinner, and the planetary rings were up, shining silver through a slowly twisting curtain of rose and green aurora.
Out here, the fine smell of tropical ocean spray and the harsh crispness of alpine snow mingled as breezes came up from the sea and down from the mountains to clash under my nose.
It was relaxing and exquisite, but sadly, I had not been brought here to admire the atmosphere, so I turned to watch the dancers inside.
The Emperor was impossible to miss. She towered over Prince Aureli, her current partner.
At the Academy, she’d been merely statuesque.
However, she had lost none of her powerful grace, nor the severe beauty she’d possessed in abundance twelve years ago.
Prince Aureli ordinarily cut an impressive figure, but next to her, his grandeur was severely diminished.
I felt sorry for him but took comfort in the fact that she would diminish anyone who stood near her, with maybe the exception of one of the massive demon princes who’d accompanied her to the Crystal Palace.
The only thing which had kept our pairing at school dances from being farcical was the sheer, radiant joy in her smile when we danced.
She wasn’t smiling now.
Overcome with regret, I decided to drown my memories of happier times in whiskey.
I made my way to the bar, but it looked like the entire Imperial entourage had the same thought as me.
Demon lords nearly twice my height crowded the bar and glared at me as I approached.
I opted to live with my memories rather than risk my life to forget for a night.
The first dance was followed by another I did not know, then a third.
Astrid traded partners as rapidly as the music allowed, making terse conversation with each, but never warming up or relaxing.
She was dancing out of duty, not pleasure, and was taking no joy in the experience.
I wished I could reserve a waltz with her, turn about the floor with her for a few minutes, bring out the surprisingly vivacious young noblewoman I’d loved, but I did not know if that woman even existed anymore.
The Emperor looked like my Astrid, but as she danced, I saw only the Emperor.
Finally, the familiar lilting tones of a reel began to play. I knew this dance, at least well enough not to trip over my own feet, and besides, Princess Marie would be expecting me. I couldn’t let down the only ally I’d managed to make, so I rushed into line with the other men just in time to bow.
I was rather surprised, then, to look up and see a young nobleman in League finery curtsying to me instead of a noblewoman, spreading the wings of a golden half-cape in place of a courtly gown’s skirts.
Not that it was unusual for men in the Commonwealth to learn both parts of a dance, but I’d thought the League more old-fashioned than that.
The dance began, and old habits drilled into me by eight years of dance lessons took over.
I stepped forwards, took his hand in mine, and put my right hand on his waist. It was the appropriate move in the Commonwealth, but I didn’t know if it would be offensive to him.
He did not seem upset, whether I’d made a gaffe or not.
“Hello, I’m Darius, Archduke of Yezhidia,” he said without missing a beat. “Who might you be?”
“Captain Levar Boylan.” I raised my arm and put the archduke into a spin. “Pardon me, but aren’t you supposed to be on the other side?”
“Oh, I always dance the female part the first day of any soiree. You meet the most interesting people that way,” Archduke Darius replied.
He had laughing green eyes offset by the golden half-cape slung over his left shoulder, glowing golden skin indicating a love for sunny outdoor pursuits combined with extensive skincare regimens, and his dark hair was artfully mussed in a boyish way which could only be achieved by a team of skilled hairdressers.
“I meant the other side of the war,” I replied, more coldly than I’d intended.