Indeed, half an hour later, as they watched, Aliria touched the guldman on the shoulder as if to signal that she would be gone for only a moment, and then strolled over to a group of young women on the other side of the room. For a moment or two, the indigo women stood reserved and judgmental, listening to some low-voiced commentary or plea; and then suddenly their blue bodies closed around the errant noblewoman, and she was locked in their protective circle. Almost immediately, Nolan lost sight of her flame-frosted hair and vibrant gown. Had she been swallowed up or had she voluntarily plunged back into that pure ocean of indigo heritage? Nolan wondered. He noted without surprise that Leesa was standing in the group that had reclaimed Aliria. He saw her blue dress, the color of her skin, indistinguishable from the hands and arms and faces of the women that surrounded her, so that they all seemed to meld together, all become a part of Leesa as he watched from across the ballroom. Into this primal vat of indigo heiresses Aliria Carvon had slipped without a ripple.

“Told you,” Julitta said.

“Yes, but what about the guldman?”

“Maybe he’ll just go home.”

But she did not believe it, and, still thinking of Colt, neither did Nolan. No one else in the room seemed to give him a second thought. He stood by the pot of blue roses, arms still crossed on his chest, hooded eyes still watching the assembled company, and seemed to grow more fierce and more silent as the next hour passed. Perhaps he thought this was another one of Aliria’s brief separations and that the indigo girl would return to him with some light apology and a request for another dance. Perhaps, as Julitta thought, he was thinking of revenge.

And then, as Nolan continued to watch, another amazing thing happened—something even more amazing than the daring act that had brought this guldman through the door to begin with. A blueskin woman shook herself free from the indifferent crowd, approached the gulden man, and put her hand on his arm in a gesture of affection or supplication. There was—although the whole crowd had appeared oblivious to the man’s existence just a moment before—a collective holding of breath, a dumbfounded moment of silence into which the orchestra’s brisk music made a brassy intrusion. The guldman nodded once, sharply, and swept the blueskin onto the floor for the dance.

Julitta was shaking her head, disbelieving. “That cannot have just happened,” she said. “Who in the world could she be?”

But just then the figure of the dance turned the couple around, and Nolan could see the woman’s face. Oh, she was as proud and defiant as any indigo heiress; she was a daughter of the Higher Hundred who would not be intimidated by scandal, insult, or ostracism.