Page 11 of Oracle's Reign
Yslie looked at her fellow oracle.
Sophenie nodded. “Anything to get away fromhim.”
“Will the servant follow us?” Yslie asked.
“Probably, but the location I’m thinking of doesn’t allow him a convenient spot to lurk, so he won’t be too close.”
“Then please lead the way,dyela.”
The prince took them around the edges of the room to an alcove created by a potted plant and a porcelain vase resting atop a marble plinth. Such ornaments alternated around the entire perimeter of the room, but Yslie saw at once why the prince had aimed for this particular nook. Not only was the position perfect for watching the front of the room where the performers were setting up, but the plant and vase were just a little larger than their counterparts, offering an extra level of shielding from the casual eye.
Three people could just fit in the space, but contact was inevitable. Sophenie maneuvered so that Yslie remained between her and the prince. She also frowned when Yslie pushed a little closer, causing her to almost tumble into the waxy green leaves of the plant. Yslie pulled back and tried not to notice the way her arm brushed against the prince’s. It was an innocent, accidental touch, shielded by two layers of fabric. It should not make her shiver.
“What is the entertainment tonight?” she asked, needing a distraction.
The prince looked over at the performers. “It looks like the story dancers.” He glanced at Sophenie. “I’ll warn you in advance that my father probably chose a horribly insensitive moment of history for them to perform tonight, but if you can forget that their tale isn’t fiction, this troupe’s dancing is superb.”
“If the story glorifies the imperial line, then it is fiction.” Sophenie clearly felt no need to appease the imperial standing near her, leading Yslie once again to wonder why she had come to Kalitalo. She had tried asking Heolin that afternoon why he had permitted Sophenie to come when he had rejected other oracles.
Heolin had shrugged. “It was not my place to judge your reasons for wanting to marry the prince, so long as they wereyourreasons.”
“But she doesn’t seem to want to marry the prince,” Yslie had pointed out.
“And do you, Odela, or Triese truly desire to marry Peroen, or is marrying the prince simply the only way to get what you want? If I had required the oracles’ motives to be pure, we would have no potential brides.”
After spending the banquet at the Emperor’s table, listening to the contempt thrown at the prince, Heolin’s blunt truth sounded even worse. Treating Prince Peroen as nothing more than a placeholder for future power felt a lot like everyone in Garaea only caring about Yslie because her future as the Emperor’s Oracle would protect them from discomfort.
Did anyone see Prince Peroen as a man with his own dreams and desires? A man with his own intrinsic worth?
Yslie was guilty herself of only thinking of him in terms of his rank. She had traveled all the way to Kalitalo without once asking anything about him. She vowed to do better in the future. Not because it might secure her a crown, but because it was the only decent thing to do.
She would start immediately. The prince had spoken of the dance troupe as if he had seen them before. Yslie turned toward him to ask, but before she formed the first word, a drum began a slow beat somewhere out of view.
The dancers lined up, stepping in time to the beat. Then they froze. They were standing still, but Yslie was already entranced. Their poses somehow weren’t static, each careful angle of a wrist and tilt of the head evoking movement.
The drumbeat sped up, and the lilting notes of a flute joined it. The dancers leapt into motion, and Yslie forgot everything else. She didn’t know what moment of history they enacted, butshe didn’t care, for the story itself tugged her from emotion to emotion without pause. She rejoiced and despaired in equal measure, her heart stopping when it seemed all had been for naught, then beating again when the two primary dancers triumphed against overwhelming odds.
The flute faded away, the drum slowing.
“You liked it?” the prince asked softly.
She looked up at him, knowing her expression was too open, too awed, but unable to care about pretending a level of sophistication she didn’t own. “It was beautiful. I didn’t know so much could be said without words.”
“Dancing always amazes me. I know how to convey emotion through colors on canvas, and music I feel is intrinsically tied to emotions, but to influence people with something as slight as the point of your toe and the curve of your spine seems magical.”
“The dancing was fine, but the story wasn’t accurate at all,” Sophenie informed them, breaking the moment. “Daitano didn’t seek out Jaesa and convince her to serve him. She went to him. She was the one who convinced him to work with the magical races.”
It took Yslie longer than she wanted to admit to recognize the names of the first emperor and his oracle. “That was the story of the uniting of the empire?”
“Of course. Even with the inaccuracies, it was easy to recognize. The scene depicting the Battle of Sarssa, for example, couldn’t have been anything else.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Yslie shrugged. “I never studied history that closely.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Peroen whispered. He stood close enough that his breath brushed over her when he spoke, sending a shiver down her spine. “If I hadn’t already seen this dance before, I wouldn’t have known either.”
He pulled back, a slight flush on his cheeks, and spoke a little louder. “I’m impressed, Sophenie. No matter how well versed they are in history, most people need an interpreter the first time they watch one of these dances.”
Yslie studied the prince, letting her gaze linger in a way she hadn’t allowed during the meal. This was the man she had spoken to in the back room of Pianti’s home. A man who didn’t hesitate to compliment a woman who didn’t censor her scathing indictment of his entire family. The aloof facade he had hidden behind during their second conversation had been a response to her own attempt to portray a neutral personality.
With no masks in the way, Yslie enjoyed the prince’s company. Which meant it would hurt that much more when he chose Triese over her. She didn’t delude herself that his escort tonight meant anything. Triese and Odela had concentrated their charms on the Emperor for the evening, but they’d switch back to the prince soon enough. He wouldn’t look at her twice at that point.
