Free Ashes of Roses (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 4) by Christine Pope Page A

girls had their mouths hanging open slightly, as if they were not quite sure they believed what they were seeing.
    Before the silence could become too awkward, I said smoothly, “Greetings, ladies. I thank you for coming, and invite you to partake of the hospitality offered. There is wine, and fruit, and sweetmeats and cheeses and breads. Come, we are here to get to know one another. Mingle, I beg you.”
    Perhaps the notion of the Emperor of Sirlende begging them to do anything was too much. I heard a few nervous giggles, followed by some whispered exchanges, and at least several of the bolder girls moved toward the refreshment tables. As if a spell had been broken, the servants sprang into action, filling goblets, handing over small silver plates heaped with delicacies.
    Somehow I thought I would have rather waded into the thick of battle than plunge into that group of suddenly lively young women, but my sister was right — I had brought this on myself. Recalling the falsely bright smile she had given the crowds just a few moments earlier, I assumed one of my own and made my way into the throng, nodding as names were thrown at me from all sides — “Marika Tredaris, Your Majesty” — “Alanna Krendil, Your Majesty” — and knowing I would never be able to retain enough to match a face to a name.
    Not that it mattered, as none of them were the girl I sought.
    I spent a little less than an hour in the first tent, then made my excuses and hastened to the second pavilion. Perhaps she would be there.
    But no, once again the red-haired young woman eluded me, and I was forced to spend another hour smiling and nodding and acting as if I would recall them all, when in fact they were all a blur to me. Several were quite pretty, and others seemed charming and sweet, but none of them made any deep impression. It was as if, once I had seen the girl with the gleaming dark-copper hair, I had eyes for no one else.
    The third pavilion was a repeat of the first and second, and inwardly I began to despair, wondering if she had left early, had looked upon the crowds and become intimidated, had slipped away before she ever came to one of the great tents. After all, she had looked oddly hesitant, unsure of herself. I could see how a shy girl might be overwhelmed by such a proceeding, especially when she must come unaccompanied by a parent or even a maidservant.
    My footsteps were slower as I approached the final pavilion, some of my eagerness gone. In my mind I had already convinced myself that she had left, and that I would have to settle for one of these other girls, none of whom had so far captured my fancy. I entered the tent, and again the voices of the young women went silent immediately as they stared at me. This group seemed more wary, and I thought I could understand why — after all, they had been waiting for some time for me to make my appearance.
    “My ladies, my deepest apologies for making you wait so many hours. I do hope that you have found the refreshments pleasing, and that you have not been made too uncomfortable by the wait. It is my — ”
    I had been about to say that it was a very great pleasure to meet them all, empty words, if necessary ones, but my breath seemed to catch in my throat. At last I had found her.
    She stood off to one side and toward the back, but by some miracle there was an open space before her, so I was able to see her face clearly this time, see the rosebud fullness of her mouth and her pretty little nose and the unusual amber-green of her eyes beneath the arched russet brows. For the time it took my heart to beat three times, our gazes caught and held. I saw her make an odd little gesture toward her throat, as if she, too, found it hard to breathe. And then a tall girl took a step or two to her right, and the young woman I had sought was obscured again, the contact broken.
    Still, it was enough. She was here. She had not fled, or decided the throng was too much competition for her. Ah, no.