Free Valley of Silence by Nora Roberts Page A

couldn’t have made his base if he chose.
    In his world, in any case. Geall was a different matter. He’d lived through this sort of fashion and culture once, and had no desire to repeat himself. His family had been gentry, and so he’d attended his share of high-flown feasts.
    All in all he’d have preferred a snifter of brandy and a good book.
    He didn’t intend to stay long, and had come only because he knew someone would come looking for him. While he was confident he could have avoided whoever had come hunting him, he would never avoid the haranguing Hoyt would subject him to the next day.
    Easier altogether to put in an appearance, toast the new queen, then slip away.
    He had drawn the line at wearing the formal doublet and accessories that had been delivered to his room. He might have been stuck in a medieval timeline, but he’d be damned if he’d dress for it.
    So he wore black, pants and sweater. He hadn’t packed a suit and tie for this particular journey.
    Still he smiled with some warmth at Glenna who drifted up to him in emerald green, in what he thought had been termed a robe deguisee at one time. Very formal, very elegant, and showcasing her very lovely breasts with its low and rounded neckline.
    â€œNow here’s a vision I prefer to any goddess.”
    â€œI almost feel like one.” She spread her arms so the full bell sleeves swayed. “Heavy though. It must be ten pounds of material. I see you went for a less weighty ensemble.”
    â€œI believe I’d stake myself before I squeezed into one of those getups again.”
    She had to laugh. “Can’t blame you, but I’m getting a kick out of seeing Hoyt all done up. For me—maybe for you after all this time—it’s like a costume ball. Moira chose regal black and gold for the house sorcerer. It suits him, as your more contemporary choice does you. Still, this whole day has been like a very strange dream.”
    â€œI was thinking a very strange play.”
    â€œYeah, that works. Whatever, tonight’s feasting is a short and colorful respite. We managed to do some scouting today, Hoyt and I magically, Larkin and Blair with the fly-over. We’ll fill you in when—”
    She broke off at the sound of trumpets.
    Moira made her entrance, the train of her gown flowing behind her, her crown flaming in the light of a hundred candles.
    She glowed, as queens should, as women could.
    As his unbeating heart tightened in his chest, Cian thought: Bloody, buggering hell.
    He had no choice but to join the others at the high table for the feast. Leaving beforehand would have been an overt insult—not that he minded that overmuch—but it would have drawn attention. So he was stuck again.
    Moira sat at the center of the table, flanked by Larkin and her uncle. Cian, at least, had Blair beside him, who was both an informative and entertaining companion.
    â€œLilith hasn’t burned anything yet, which was a surprise,” she began. “Probably too busy nursing Fifi. Oh, question. The French bitch has been around about four hundred years, right? And you more than double that. How come both of you still have accents?”
    â€œAnd why is it Americans believe everyone should speak as they do?”
    â€œGood point. Is this venison? I think it’s venison.” She took a bite. “It’s not too bad.”
    She wore siren red, which left a portion of her strong shoulders bared. Her short cap of hair was unadorned, but there were ornate gold medallions, nearly big as a baby’s fist, dangling from her ears.
    â€œHow do you hold your head up with those earrings?”
    â€œSuffering for fashion,” she said easily. “So they’ve got horses,” she continued. “A couple of dozen in various paddocks. Might be more stabled. I figure why not have Larkin put down, and we could run the horses off. Just make a nuisance of ourselves. Maybe—if I can