Everyone was ready for the soiree early. Father arrived early, also. He bowed, took her hand, and led her out through the open doors of the ballroom onto the terrace.
“Genevieve, Prince Yugh Delganor will be attending the soiree tonight, as my guest.”
Yugh Delganor. She cast out a net of memory, seining for Delganor. A guest at Langmarsh House, not long before school started this year. A tall, thin man with dead eyes, hollow cheeks, and no conversation. As she had been taught, she had given him opportunities for conversation, but each had been a stone dropped into a bottomless well: no splash, no echo. He had been very well dressed. Middle aged. Perhaps older. Not bad looking, but vaguely repellant and utterly without animation. Genevieve had assigned him a walk-on role and had been glad when he had departed.
“I remember the name . . .” she murmured.
His lips thinned. “You should remember more than the name, girl! Yugh Delganor is the Lord Paramount’s nephew, son of his younger brother.”
“Ah,” she murmured. “Prince Thumsort, is it?”
“No, no. Thumsort is the youngest of the three. Delganor’s father and His Majesty, Marwell, Lord Paramount were twins. Since the untimely death of the Lord Paramount’s son, Delganor is the heir presumptive. Thumsort comes third, since Delganor’s sons have also perished.”
“Couldn’t the Lord Paramount have another son?”
“The Queen is past it, girl! She hasn’t had the good sense to die and let him find another wife, and a son out of any other woman would not qualify. Why don’t you know all this?”
She murmured, “I don’t think you have ever told me of it, Father.”
He sniffed. “I keep forgetting this school does not always teach you what may be most important to you. I hope at least you have guessed something of what this evening portends.”
Something tore. A bit of that membrane that made a comforting translucency between herself and the outside world ripped away, leaving a hole. Reality showed through, only a glimpse—ominously dark—and her inner parts cramped in panic. She found voice to say, “Since you had not mentioned this matter before, no, I have no idea.” He frowned, displeased.
She sought to mend the veil that protected her, pulling it together between herself and the reality of his words. “Are you perhaps engaging in some enterprise with Prince Delganor?”
He glared, not at her but at the horizon, barely visible between the trees. “I have been summoned to Havenor, to attend upon the court. It could be a lengthy term of service. When I mentioned other responsibilities, the Lord Paramount kindly thought of your needs. The Lord Paramount does not invite all and everyone to reside in Havenor. He has waited to receive others’ opinion of you, of your poise, your behavior, your appearance, the purity of your soul. Prince Delganor gave him an opinion. Aufors Leys has also done so. Delganor is coming tonight to extend the Lord Paramount’s invitation for you to reside at court during my posting there.”
“I don’t understand . . .”
His face contorted in anger. “Of course you do! Do not be willfully stupid, Genevieve! You have been well reared, well educated. Your soul has been kept pure. You are suitable! And because you are suitable, the Prince has condescended to come here tonight in order to deliver the Lord Paramount’s invitation. He may ask if you have any objection to leaving school. You will say no. He may ask if you have any matrimonial interest, since that might distract you from the duties of the court, and if he does, you will say you do not.”
Stillness, and herself saying in a stranger’s voice from a place of clarity. “I did not particularly like him, Father.”
He barked, a singleha, unamused. “That is of no matter. There will be a good many at court you will not like, any more than I do. Nonetheless, we accommodate ourselves. Who knows? You may find a husband there.”
“I am entitled to a decade more of my youth, Father. And I do not think I would like marrying a courtier.”
“That, too, is of no matter. Your mother was young when we were wed, she did not much like marrying me, nor I her. It worked out well enough.”