Free Lords of Rainbow by Vera Nazarian

age were taken into a brightly illuminated room filled with witnesses, and were “examined” in a rather barbaric ritual of occult superstition. The practice was officially condemned, and yet the clandestine nature of this ritualistic nonsense appealed to the bored aristocracy.
    Thus, Lixa carried, if not in her debatable colors , then in the solid forms of her face, the print of the Beis line. And yet she was the opposite of her mother, Molhveth Beis, widow of the late Lord Nadeh Beis—the old woman with the withered lips who now sat across from her in the swaying carriage.
    Molhveth was herself a daughter of Vaeste, sister to the late Lord Rendvahl Vaeste, who had been the father of Elasand. In her exceedingly ripe middle age, Dame Beis was still beautiful, like an old angel, despite the wrinkled skin and faded hair which had once been utter luxurious darkness. She was also too kindhearted, gave alms to random strangers on the street who appeared poor, and retained servants who stole from her on a regular basis. This, Lixa despised—kindness was incompatible with nobility.
    Lixa, stern and old-fashioned like her father, felt that she was, thank the gods, the better perpetrator of her heritage. Thus, she played the subtle superior, in contrast to her mother’s straightforward warmth, and avoided contact with those beneath their rank.
    Both had lived, for most of Lixa’s life, away from the City—which her mother did not mind in the least—and the Court, called Dirvan by the aristocrat elite, as it was in vogue then to employ archaic terms for things. In her isolation, Lixa learned to harbor a very odd set of feelings toward the Court and the modern ways of the aristocrats. She loved and hated it simultaneously, hungered for it, yet pretended severe disapproval of the noble ways. Dirvan , and its lush brilliant decadence, drew her vaguely, repelling at the same time, and Lixa unconsciously looked forward to every visit to Tronaelend-Lis.
    This particular visit held the greatest significance yet. Lixa was to be wed.
    She had never met her husband-to-be. She was not even well acquainted with his Family which had been recommended to her mother, during their few visits to the City. Indeed, the only items of substance about him she had learned through subtle inquiry of a childhood friend. And despite her poise, her calm, her considerable theoretical knowledge of things and ways, she was not very well acquainted with men.
    Truly, Elasand Vaeste, a cousin, was the only younger man that Lixa knew at all.
    Yes, that same madman who now drove their carriage. . . .
    Dame Molhveth had said, however, that Elasand was not representative of men in general. He was just too eccentric and perfect.
    Perfectly mad , thought Lixa, He is perfect and mad. And he can fight like ten men—who would’ve guessed?
    In the opinion of Molhveth Beis, Elasand, the only son of her sister, was not of this world. He was impossibly proud, and yet it was a pride so vaguely connected to any sense of heritage, or Family, or distinction, so pure and for its own sake, that it was incomprehensible.
    Even now, he says nothing , thought Lixa. Well then, let him remain mute.
    Elasand also adhered to a lofty and impossible ideal. Dame Beis liked to repeat that gods held high judgment, yet Elas held it even higher, judged more harshly, and his discrimination was impeccable. Lecture him as she might, he would eventually put a stop to all her reproaches with one rational absolute argument.
    Elasand was thus extraordinary in his personal power, confident, worldly and aware of all possibilities. Most of the time, despite her critical banter, his aunt was secretly in awe of him.
    But not Lixa. She was not in awe at all. Instead, she merely observed and studied him.
    Innocently wise cousin Lixa.
    But she did not know enough to compare. For, compared with most men, he was a beautiful aloof god. In some Families it was considered ill fortune for any unattached man to