Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
“Do you see our host there, Mr. Nethenabbi?” Alyce asked. She was sitting to Valeraine’s right, and blatantly trying to change the subject from Valeraine’s eternal hatred for their youngest sister. They could only stew in silence for so long before Alyce felt the need to lighten the mood.
Valeraine searched the crowd of dancers and spotted him, in a pale rose-colored suit that he wore ravishingly well. “He seems an enthusiastic dancer.”
“He is.” Alyce smiled as if Valeraine had complimented her, instead of a new acquaintance. “I have danced with him twice so far. He is also an excellent conversationalist. Did you know he has flown across the Potune ocean? He missed Kinella so much, he has decided to come here and make a home.”
“He also said that Alyce’s hair reminded him of the sunrise,” Merna reported in a bored tone. She sat at Valeraine’s left, and had likely been planted in that chair the whole evening. “Which is exactly the drivel that unimaginative men use to flatter their ladies.”
“It has some merit,” Valeraine said, hoping to preserve Alyce’s jubilant mood. “A sunrise is golden and rosy, precisely like the shade of her hair.”
“I think he meant it sincerely.” Alyce looked dreamily on the dragon lord of Netherfield, dancing with another woman. “He’s so full of light and happiness. And he has bonded a dragon! They say only the most honest of souls accomplish it.”
Was Valeraine an honest soul, then? She didn’t feel it, sitting next to her sisters who didn’t know she was the masked rider.
Though the joy of the race. That had felt honest, at least.
Merna had a topic she was more interested in (not a difficult achievement when the alternative was her sister’s crush). “Kesley rode passably, earlier.”
Alyce was cordial, willing to be led to this celebration of their house’s achievement. “Yes, indeed. Of course we never doubted —”
“I very much doubted his ability,” Merna interjected. “We all know how Lelantos has his prejudices against Kesley. But even those who were unaware of that great enmity were impressed.”
“Really?” Valeraine hardly dared to hope. Even with their poor placing in the derby, had they turned any heads? Who would have been impressed by the mediocrity Valeraine had achieved?
Alyce confirmed, “There was chatter at the beginning of the race about how old Lelantos is, how terrible his odds. All eyes were on him. Nobody missed how well he did in the beginning, how close it could have been if not for that collision.”
Merna nodded. “I didn’t think Kesley could get him to race that well, but Lelantos has more passion for flying than we give him credit. Of course, everyone also saw that our rider was masked, and there’s been much talk.”
“Do they…” Valeraine ventured, “Do they know that it is Kesley?”
“It seems the Nethenabbis have been quiet enough that the news has not spread.”
The song ended, and Alyce whispered, as if they were suddenly telling scandalous secrets, “I have the next dance with Nethenabbi.”
Mr. Nethenabbi gathered up a gentleman in tow — the rider of the red dragon, second place in the derby — and came to where the Longbourn girls sat.
“Miss Longbourn,” he said, obviously addressing Alyce (the only Miss Longbourn he had eyes to notice), “this is my stalwart companion, dragon master Bennington Pemberley.”
Pemberley hardly glanced at Alyce for the introduction.
His green eyes were instead on Nethenabbi, with a grimace, as if Mr. Nethenabbi were doing him a great inconvenience.
Pemberley was dressed in a dour black suit.
The only interesting thing about it was the lace on the cuffs and collar of his shirt.
Obviously expensive, but also lacking in style or interest. It was well-tailored, though, showing off Pemberley’s strong arms and large shoulders to great effect.
Alyce smoothly took up the introductions.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pemberley. These are my sisters, Miss Valeraine and Miss Merna. Our youngest sister, Miss Selaide, is dancing at present.” Alyce said it with such poise that you could imagine she was content to waste time with these dull introductions, instead of claiming her dance with Nethenabbi.
Valeraine knew her tells though; Alyce’s hand nervously rubbed at her gown.
Nethenabbi had no intention of prolonging the conversation. “I believe the next song is our dance, isn’t it?”
“Certainly.”
They beamed at each other, young fools already thinking themselves in love after one afternoon tea and two dances.
Nethenabbi turned to Pemberley, acting (poorly) as if an idea had just occurred to him. “Now, Pemberley, here are two ladies to whom you are introduced.”
Pemberley grunted.
“It seems they are in need of dance partners.” Nethenabbi said.
The silence which followed spoke volumes.
“I have no desire for dancing,” Merna said. Her tone brooked no argument.
Nethenabbi looked expectantly at Pemberley, delivering coded messages with his eyebrows.
Pemberley finally said, “I am sure we would not be suitable partners. I cannot recommend myself as a dancer.”
“You are a fine dancer!” Nethenabbi protested, growing in desperation.
“It is my past excellent partners who deserve that credit. The dancers here would not be of a similar talent.” His eyes only gave the smallest touch on Valeraine, as if her poor dancing skills might be catching. He turned to go, giving a parting, “Good evening.”
Mr. Nethenabbi then turned to Valeraine and said, “I am so sorry for the rudeness of my friend. I’ll encourage some other gentleman to come ask you to dance, I promise.” He strode off into the fray of mingling people. He returned with a gentleman moments later.
This was another man whom Valeraine recognized; he had been one of the riders. He was the winner of the derby, with the sharp-spined white dragon. He had black hair, an upturned nose, and a neat beard.
Mr. Nethenabbi made hurried introductions, naming him Mr. Rosings, then left to guide Alyce to the dance floor in time for the song.
With a confident grin, Mr. Rosings led Valeraine after them. He asked, “You are from Longbourn house? The one with the elderly dragon?”
Valeraine tried for an easy smile, but feared her annoyance came through. Was there nothing else to discuss? “The very same. Though our dragon is not so elderly as all that; he is still quite strong.”
“I should say so!” and Rosings’s tone was impressed and admiring now, and Valeraine’s smile became a little more sincere.
The dance began, and Rosings confidently led her.
“At first, seeing the wingspan of that great beast,” he said, “I worried he would disintegrate into bonedust on the spot. In all my experience of dragoneering — and I have worked with dozens of dragons from my nest — I have never seen a dragon that old and still moving, still flying so well.”
“We have taken care of Lelantos for generations. It must be the personal touch of the Longbourn family that gives our dragon such alacrity.”
“I am sure a house as small as yours simply does not have the resources to accomplish such a feat. It must be luck, or perhaps your dragon hasn’t been worked as thoroughly as the dragons at Rosings Nest.”
“You must —”
“In any case, Longbourn had a good showing today,” Rosings said. “You should be proud of your rider. Who is that, anyhow?”
“I couldn’t say.” Demure was not an expression that came easily, but Valeraine tried to affect it. “He was masked to prevent discovery, as you may imagine.”
“You must have someone truly infamous to be masked. Could it be Wilemant, or Bryton? They would both jump at the chance to race here, even for an unknown house like Longbourn.”
“It could be, I —”
“Well, perhaps not Wilemant. Your rider had much more skill than that, to manage a beast like your longwing.”
“You really think that the masked rider showed such skill?” Valeraine asked.
“When you are as accomplished a dragoneer as myself,” Rosings said with no trace of modesty, “you can spot a peer. The masked rider of Longbourn knew his dragon, and was daring enough to truly excel. If only he had a more… spry mount.”
Valeraine didn’t trust herself to make the right response, so she smiled. She, an accomplished dragoneer? She had demonstrably been daring enough to race.
“Now, despite all the flaws of your dragon,” Mr. Rosings continued, “I wouldn’t mind breeding some of that longevity into our nest.”
“Truly? Because Longbourn would be —”
“The results would not be apparent for hundreds of years, but we must plan for the future of our houses, mustn’t we?”
“Exactly. Longbourn is open to —”
“Just imagine how much we could improve upon Longbourn’s dragon if combined with the might of Rosings. It could be spectacular, a new age of dragons ushered in on Rosings’ wings. I may speak to your father about it.”
Valeraine nodded and smiled. If she didn’t say anything, he couldn’t interrupt her, and he was just where she wanted him.
If they could negotiate a breeding agreement with Rosings, they could get new eggs for Longbourn.
This was exactly what they needed to save the house, and it was all coming because she had been bold enough to race.
There was some hope for Longbourn, after all.
The song ended, and Valeraine looked around for another potential dance partner.
She saw Miss Nedine Nethenabbi chatting nearby, standing near the refreshments, playing the part of hostess.
She was wearing a pink dress to match her brother’s suit, and it was exquisite.
It was in the Fellarik current fashion, with the neckline hanging off the shoulders.
Easily the most handsome woman in the room, she commanded the attention of her audience with ease.
Valeraine should thank Nedine for the party and see if she was as impressed as Mr. Rosings at Lelantos’ flight. Perhaps Valeraine had not damaged the reputation of Longbourn as much as she feared.