Chapter Thirteen #3
“Hmm.” Master Fellows subjected Ellie to as thorough a gaze as he had the house.
Even though she knew she looked her best, her knees were all but knocking as she waited for his approval.
“Turn, please,” he commanded, wiggling one finger in an impatient spiral.
“Hmm,” he said again. “Well, I see I have my work cut out for me if I’m to impart some meaningful modicum of the graces to you over the next few days. ”
“Master Fellows.”
“Oh!” The man gave a start as Rain stepped from the shadows behind him.
“I am Rainier vel’En Daris, the Tairen Soul.
” No hint of welcome softened Rain’s expression.
Less than half a bell earlier, Ellie had thought him the kindest of men, but now he looked downright frightening.
His steel seemed to gleam brighter—and more menacing—than usual against the darkness of his leathers.
Apparently, Master Fellows thought so too, because the little man backed up several paces.
“What graces, exactly, do you think a Celierian could teach the queen of the Fey that she does not already possess?”
“Uh . . ahem . . .” Master Fellows cleared his throat again and backed up yet another step, only to bump into the equally imposing figure of Bel, who’d come to stand between Master Fellows and Ellie.
The Master of Graces swallowed. “No insult was intended, My Lord Feyreisen. The graces are an art. The manner of comportment, of speech, the language of the fans and flowers . . . they take a lifetime to master.”
“I see.” Rain nodded. Then he smiled, showing teeth. “You have three days.”
Master Fellows gasped like a beached fish.
“I suggest you start with the things she’ll need to know for the palace dinner we are attending this Kingsday evening. I’m sure you’ll find the Feyreisa a quick study.”
The palace dinner was to be a formal state affair where the heads of the noble houses would gather together for a reception followed by a banquet.
As Master Fellows explained, that meant he had three appointments of four short bells each to teach a completely untrained woman the graces of court greetings, bows and curtseys, polite conversation, deportment, flatware, and dining.
At first, Master Fellows talked so fast he barely took time to breathe. But after he survived the first bell without being skewered on a Fey blade, he calmed down a bit. By the second bell, he had regained his composure, but his patience had begun to go missing.
“If you are to be treated like a queen, My Lady Feyreisa, you must comport yourself as one. If you think of yourself as regal, others will too. You have a lovely neck, my dear. Like a swan’s.
Hold your head high. No, not that high. Let them see your lovely eyes, not your nostrils.
Yes, like that. Now, spine straight. Shoulders back.
No, not so far back that your shoulder blades touch one another.
You’re a queen, not a prize hen.” He started to take hold of Ellysetta’s shoulders, but the hiss of Fey steel leaving scabbard froze him in place.
All five warriors of Ellysetta’s quintet had unsheathed their blades.
“Sers,” he complained. Ellysetta’s quintet just stared blankly at him.
He turned to Rain. “My Lord Feyreisen, really. I’ve tried, but I simply cannot do this without touching her. ”
“I agree,” Rain answered. “You cannot do it.”
Master Fellows’s expression—which had started to brighten with triumph—fell once more.
“This no-touching rule of yours is ridiculous! You would not let me guide her through her curtseys. You would not let me show her how to use her hands in polite conversation. And now, you will not allow me to adjust the way she comports herself. How do you expect me to teach her the graces if you hobble me at every turn? This is impossible!”
“Do you shrink so easily from a challenge, then?”
“A challenge, no. But you, My Lord Feyreisen, are setting me up for disaster. Is that what you want? For me to fail and your queen to become the butt of Celierian jokes?”
Every spark of warmth fled from Rain’s eyes. “Mind your tongue, Celierian.”
“Or what? You’ll cut it out? Go on, then!
You might as well. My life will be ruined in any event if Lady Ellysetta falls on her face before the entire court.
They all know it’s I whom the queen tasked with tutoring her in the graces!
” With a great flair of drama, Master Fellows yanked open his silk coat, baring the pristine white linen shirt below.
“Go ahead, Tairen Soul! Do your worst! Slay me! Drive one of those poison Fey blades through my heart! I’d rather die than live with such shame. ”
Rain’s irritation melted away. It was impossible to stay irritated while trying hard not to laugh.
He didn’t like Celierians. He’d always found them to be arrogant, false, and weak.
But one thing he could respect was a man who took pride in his life’s work and had the courage to defend it.
Even if he was a dramatic, posing little prat.
“Let him use whatever methods he thinks are best to teach me,” Ellysetta said. “I don’t want to embarrass you or my family when I’m presented to the court.”
“You could never do that, shei’tani,” Rain replied. “But neither can I allow him to touch you.” Silently, he admitted, ?Until our bond is complete, the tairen would never permit it, and I don’t want to kill this man, if only because I would regret the loss of entertainment.?
She looked shocked.
Behind her, Bel smothered a smile. ?You like him.?
?I don’t,? Rain denied, then reluctantly recanted. ?All right, maybe a little. A very little.? Who could completely dislike a banty little mortal brave enough to dare Rain Tairen Soul to do his worst?
Rain turned to Master Fellows. “Will you accept a compromise, Master Fellows? Permit me to read your thoughts with Spirit, and I will give you the use of my hands. You need only think what you would like me to do, and I will do it for you. Will that suffice?”
“I don’t know.” Master Fellows straightened his clothing and carefully smoothed back his hair. “I’m not sure I like the idea of having you in my head. What would it be like?”
“You would not know I was there. Simply picture in your mind how you wish Ellysetta to stand.” He plucked the images easily from the man’s mind and wove them in Spirit so Ellysetta could see, then made the smaller adjustments himself, tilting her shoulders and chin gently to achieve exactly the stance Master Fellows imagined.
“Like this, Master Fellows?” He heard her breath catch as his hands touched her, felt her helpless rush of desire and the hot echo of it in his flesh.
She might fear the tairen, but this much she could not deny.
It gave him hope that the rest would come in time.
“Exactly! I mean”—the man coughed—“that will do nicely, My Lord Feyreisen.”
“I feel like a posed doll,” Ellysetta muttered.
“You look like a queen.” Fellows was right; she did have a lovely neck. Rain bent to press a kiss against the soft skin of Ellysetta’s throat. “You bring pride to this Fey, shei’tani.”
“Oh, but none of that,” Master Fellows objected, ignoring Rain’s frown. “Celierian courtiers may enjoy passion in private, but in public, they must observe all the proprieties.”
Ellysetta’s lessons in the graces continued throughout the afternoon.
It was late when Master Fellows took his leave and hired a gentleman’s coach to carry him back across town to the palace, where he was promptly ushered into the queen’s private audience chamber to give a report of his session with the Tairen Soul’s mate.
Queen Annoura was seated on a carved and gilded armchair, dressed to perfection and shining with a seemingly effortless combination of luminous beauty and regal grace that Master Gaspare Fellows knew had taken years of careful study to perfect.
He’d still been an apprentice when the queen had first come to these shores, and he’d helped his old Master train her to take her place at King Dorian’s side.
The lessons had ended when the old Master died, but by then Annoura had already been transformed from the reserved young princess so in love with her handsome husband into the Moon of Celieria, the Brilliant around whom the entire court revolved.
Lately, Gaspare had begun noticing changes in her: a hardness that had never been there before, a cutting edge to her wit. After the last four bells spent in the fresh, artless kindness of Ellysetta Baristani’s company, the difference seemed even more obvious.
Gaspare’s gaze flicked to the bevy of Dazzles gathered around the queen, among them many a grasping, brittle beauty like that sapphire-eyed jade, Jiarine Montevero.
Youngest daughter of a poor, minor house, she’d ascended beyond anyone’s expectations to claim a seat in the queen’s inner circle and title to her family’s holdings after the untimely passing of her parents and older siblings.
Beside her stood one of the queen’s Favorites, the handsome Ser Vale, who for no reason at all made the little hairs on the back of Gaspare’s neck stand up whenever the man’s vivid blue-green gaze was fixed upon him.
As it was now.
Gaspare threw himself into a deep, elegant bow.
The bend of his knee was exact, the flourish of his arm a perfection of grace .
. . except for the faint tremors which he hoped no one noticed.
Ser Vale disturbed him. Almost as much as the Tairen Soul had at first, only with Vale, the unsettledness never went away.
When Gaspare straightened, he focused his gaze on the queen, not allowing so much as a flicker of a glance in Vale’s direction. That helped. A little.
“My Queen, you asked me to keep you informed of my progress with the young Feyreisa.” Forcing himself to speak in confident, well-modulated tones, Gaspare related the details of his interactions with Ellysetta Baristani and the Tairen Soul.