Thornlost (Book 3) by Melanie Rawn Page B

to her. Mieka watched the spread of brick-red color up her cheeks and down her neck, wondering what it was about Chat’s uncomely, comically uneven features that could provoke such a reaction. Rauel was the boyish beauty of the group, though Vered with his nut-brown skin and white-blond hair was the most striking; Sakary’s looks were remarkable only for the deep red of his curling hair and the intensity of his gaze. Touchstone, Mieka decided with a smirk, was much the handsomer collection of players—despite Quill’s frets about the heft of his nose. Silly attitude, Mieka had always thought. He’d grown right fond of that nose, so much more impressive than the mushroomy buttons or halfhearted wedges that decorated most people’s faces.
    “Second Flight!” was Rauel’s greeting. “Right behind us!”
    “Just like always!” Vered tossed in as they all made for the bar.
    Mieka laughed at them. The edge to their voices was as rewarding as the invitation from Princess Miriuzca. Touchstone’s acclaim had to rankle. The Shadowshapers were accustomed tobeing the absolute best in the Kingdom. Now they had a rival—or, rather, now they
knew
they had a rival, and so did everybody else. Two years ago, Black Lightning had made the Winterly without having gone through Trials (talk of a thing being rigged!), but no group had ever jumped from Winterly to Royal before without playing Ducal in between.
    Jeska, with his most Angelic smile, said to the Shadowshapers, “Good of you to be our opening act for the whole summer!”
    “Prime them all up,” Rafe contributed, “so they’re ready for some
real
theater.”
    This led to growls and laughter and some playful threatened punches. Mieka, dancing lightly out of range of Chat’s fist, took it the next logical step, saying, “And prime up the girls, too, so they’re ready for some
real
—”
    “I’ve a wife!” Chat exclaimed. “And so do you, lad.”
    “When did that stop any man worthy of the name, style, and title?” Mieka scoffed.
    Not that he’d ever flaunt other girls in front of his wife. That was tasteless. Yet it had turned out convenient, that house outside Gallybanks. He could come into town and sleep at Wistly while Touchstone worked, then go back to Hilldrop for a few days. He did as pleased him with whoever caught his fancy. As long as a man didn’t bring home a pox, what business was it of his wife’s what he did while he was away from her? It wasn’t as if such dalliances actually meant anything.
    The first round of drinks was on the house. And the second. When the third came with dinner, Rafe reminded his partners that there was a limit tonight, which led to an explanation of why, which led to more teasing—and more jealousy.
    “Ooh, quite the sensation, aren’t we?” Vered mocked. “Lunching frivols with Her Royal Selfness, special attention from the Stewards—”
    Cade glanced up from layered slices of ham and chickenunder a savory fruit sauce. “Attention?” he asked sharply.
    “ ’Twas all over Fliting Hall,” Rauel told him. “You didn’t hear?”
    “Him? Before a performance?” Mieka snorted. “Only hears the natter of the anguishings inside his own head!”
    “What were they saying?” Cade demanded.
    Chat spoke to the chunk of grilled carrot on his fork. “Somebody was fussing over offense to the Archduke. Trying to earn some points of his own, like, though not on the stage.”
    “I thought it might be something like that.” Rafe passed his plate to Sakary, who loaded more meat onto it. “Beholden, mate. His Grace’s fingers seem to be dipping everywhere these days, right up to his rings. He couldn’t buy the Shadowshapers two years ago, he couldn’t buy us last year, even with the offer of a theater built to our exact designs—”
    “What?” Vered exclaimed.
    “You didn’t hear?” Rafe’s smile was an intriguing combination of smugness and disgust. He told the tale briefly, finishing with, “So now he is,