Devrim's Discipline - Brianna Hale Page 0,6

few feet away, and all conversation around us dries up, as if he’s sucked the enjoyment from the air.

Then he strides on, and everyone drops into bows or curtsies in his wake.

“Who was that?” I whisper to Mama, as we rise.

“Archduke Devrim Levanter, the Captain of the King’s Guard and the most powerful man in the Court of Paravel. After the King himself, of course. If he doesn’t like you, he’ll block your marriage, deny you audience with the King and make your life miserable. King Gregor and Queen Penelope relied on him completely.”

I read about the Archduke in the papers. He’s a widower and was released from prison the day King Anson was restored to the throne. I wonder if he’s looking for a wife. He looks like he’s in his early fifties, just a few years older than Mama.

If she married him then I wouldn’t have all this pressure on my shoulders to restore the family fortunes. I turn excitedly to her. “What if you married him?”

Mama makes a choking noise. “A Rugova marry a Levanter? Darling, we’re a First Family, but we’re a very lowly one. No, the only way to deal with a Levanter is to keep out of their way.” She peers over the heads of the crowd. “I think I see an old friend of your father’s. Stay here and try to look as if you would like to be danced with. Failing that, talk to anyone you can, and be sure to remember all the details to tell me later.”

She hurries off and leaves me standing against the wall on my own. I glance again at the Archduke, who’s repelling people around him as he strolls around the room. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t become my stepfather. He doesn’t seem like much fun.

No one wants to dance with me, and I’m tired of standing around, so I go and get some punch.

As I pour myself a glass, a group of seventeen-year-old girls flutter around me like maddened butterflies, all having the time of their lives.

I want to get to the sandwiches at the other end of the table, but I’m not able to reach past all the giggling girls. I sigh in frustration and mutter, “This is pointless.”

A listless voice says behind me. “I couldn’t agree more.”

I turn around in surprise. The speaker is the young woman in the pink and white gown. She’s extraordinarily beautiful, with hazel eyes, an elegant, oval-shaped face and sleek dark hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” she says, with an apologetic smile. “I don’t know anyone here. I’m foreign.”

From her accent, she sounds like she’s from Paravel. I suppose her family fled when Varga took power. “I don’t know anyone either, but I’m not foreign, just poor.”

“Well, we all were until about five minutes ago, weren’t we? Viva la révolution,” she says sardonically, toasting me with her cup of punch.

I look down at her dress, the vision of dreams and pink sugar that I was coveting at the dressmaker. “Would you be embarrassed if I told you your dress is making me absolutely sick with envy?”

She looks down at herself, blushing a little. “It’s very frothy, isn’t it? I lost my head at the dressmaker’s. I’ve never been to a ball, and Daddy said I should have whatever I wanted and that he liked me in pink, so…”

“You’re lucky he was so indulgent with you. Mama wanted me in the sorts of dresses she came out in.”

She looks down at my dress with a carefully blank expression. “Very…traditional.”

“It’s horrible. I’m Wraye, by the way.”

“Aubrey. Have you danced?”

“I’d rather not inflict this dress on anyone. I saw you dancing before. You looked like you were having a good time.”

Aubrey shrugs. “Men are all right, I prefer horses. When they stand on your toes, you’re allowed to swear at them and give them a good shove.”

I snort with laugher, and then remember to cover my mouth, like a lady should. “I’m wary of them.”

“Horses?”

“Men.”

“Don’t be. They may look grand now but remember that, until five weeks ago, all these people were working in the fields or factories. Or they were in prison.” She peers over the heads of the crowd. “Oh, there’s Daddy. I promised myself I wouldn’t leave him alone too long. He gets…funny.”

I try not to show my disappointment that she has to go already. “Well, it was lovely meeting you.”

She turns to me with a big smile. “Give me your number. We