“It must be my dancing partner’s influence,” he replied gallantly. In fact, he liked her quite a lot. She was the second—and last—woman he’d slept with, the only time he’d done so willingly. He’d been halfway up the brothel stairs with her that night before he realized that she looked a bit like Seregil with her dark hair and grey eyes. That had been the beginning of a succession of unsettling revelations, the upshot of which had kept him out of brothels and women’s beds ever since, but he still felt a certain affection and gratitude toward her, and was beginning to have a greater appreciation of how Seregil remained friends with past lovers.

Myrhichia was smart and amusing and proud of her craft, which involved a great deal more than what went on upstairs. She was a lovely singer, skilled conversationalist, played several instruments, and had Seregil’s own skill at bakshi and cards. It was not at all uncommon for young nobles to engage the services of such women for the mere pleasure of their company, and Myrhichia had many admirers.

Illia caught him next and held on to him for three dances, teasing him through every one of them.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked, swinging her around the steps of a gallop. “You look very grown-up with your hair up like that.”

“I am getting grown-up,” she replied haughtily. “And I’m still a better dancer than you are.”

“You’ll have to take that up with Beka, then, since she’s the one who taught me.”

“I remember, that first time you came out to Watermead. You were a regular donkey, stepping all over her feet.”

“You’d better be nice to me on my name day, or I’ll tread on yours,” he warned, hoisting her into the air as the music ended.

Illia let out a most un-grown-up squeal, but hugged him soundly as soon as he put her down.

He finally managed to excuse himself and caught Selin in the dining room, where people were playing cards. Elsbet was there, and had a respectable pile of winnings in front of her. Alec gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and she went pink in the face.

“I didn’t know priestesses in training were allowed to gamble,” he teased as Elsbet laid another winning card on the table and her opponents groaned.

“They shouldn’t be,” Selin exclaimed, throwing down his cards in disgust and paying his wager as Alec took a seat beside him. “Illior favors gamblers, and she wears the Immortal’s mark.”

“Uncle Seregil taught me to play,” said Elsbet. “I don’t need any more luck than that.”