Seraphina(59)

He grinned, presumably because I was absurd. He offered me his arm and led me onto the floor into the heart of the pavano. I didn’t know where to stand. He pulled me up next to him, our hands palm to palm at shoulder level, the opening stance.

“Your piper was rather remarkable,” he said as the promenade began.

“He’s not my piper,” I said, pricklier than I should have been due to Guntard’s earlier innuendo. “He’s Viridius’s piper.”

We did a left-hand pass, and a right. Kiggs said, “I know exactly what he is to Viridius. Tell your guilty conscience to stand down. You obviously love someone else.”

I startled. “What do you mean?”

He tapped the side of his head with his free hand. “Worked it out. Don’t be alarmed. I’m not judging you.”

Not judging me? Whom did he imagine I was in love with? I wanted to know, but not so badly that I would willingly keep the conversation trained on myself. I changed the subject: “How long have you known the Earl of Apsig?”

Kiggs raised his eyebrows as we circled slowly right, the starhand move. “He’s been here about two years.” He studied my face. “Why do you ask?”

I gestured toward the other dancers in our circle. Josef’s black doublet stood out, only two places away from us in the circle. “He’s making life difficult for Viridius’s piper. I caught him lambasting the poor fellow back in the dressing rooms.”

“I looked into Josef’s background when he first came to court,” Kiggs said, handing me around in a pas de Segosh as the circle reversed. “He’s the first Apsig to crawl out of the highlands in three generations; that house was believed extinct, so of course I was curious.”

“You? Curious?” I said. “I find that difficult to believe.”

He rewarded my impudence with a grin. “Apparently his grandmother was the last of the line and he revived the name. He’s also rumored in Samsam to have an illegitimate half brother. Lars might not be a mere serf after all.”

I frowned. If Lars was not some random half-dragon but the familial shame incarnate, that would explain Josef’s animosity. Still, I couldn’t help feeling it was more complicated than that.

Kiggs was talking; I focused back on him. “They take a harsh stance on illegitimacy in Samsam. Here, it’s mostly inconvenient for the poor bastard; there, it taints the entire family. The Samsamese are great devotees of St. Vitt.”

“ ‘Thy sins burn brightly backward through the ages’?” I hazarded.

“ ‘And forward unto all thy sons’ horizons’—yes. Well quoted!” He handed me round again; his eyes twinkled, reminding me of Prince Rufus. Kiggs leaned in and added in an earnest voice: “I realize you’re conducting a survey on the subject, but I’d recommend against asking Lars what it’s like to be a bastard.”


Startled, I met his eye. He was laughing silently, and then we were both laughing, and then something changed. It was as if I had been watching the world through oiled parchment or smoked glass, which was yanked abruptly away. Everything grew very clear and bright; the music burst forth in majesty; we stood still and the room turned around us; and there was Kiggs, right in the middle of all of it, laughing.

“I—I shall have to be content with asking you,” I stammered, suddenly flustered.

He gestured broadly, encompassing the room. “This is it. The quintessence of bastardy. No rest for the wicked. Dance after dance, until your feet are ready to fall off.”

The circle reversed direction for the last time, reminding us both why we were here. “To business,” he said. “My grandmother may think there is nothing to be discovered out in the country, but Selda and I think she’s wrong.” He leaned in closer. “You should carry on as planned. We talked it over, though, and we can’t let you go alone.”

I drew back in surprise. “You can’t let me go where alone?”

“In search of Sir James Peascod. It’s not safe,” he insisted, his brow creased with worry. “And I’m not convinced you even know where you’re going. You were surely bluffing when you told those elderly gentlemen that you knew where they lived?”

My mouth opened, but my torpid brain had not formed any words for it to say. When I’d written that a visit to the knights was warranted, I meant Kiggs should go, not me!

Kiggs put a hand on my waist for the final promenade. His breath warmed my ear. “I’m going with you. That’s final. Tomorrow we won’t be missed: you’ve got no musical programs and all the most important people will be shut up in meetings all day—including Selda, to her great disgust. I propose that we ride out at dawn, visit the knights, and then, depending on how late it is …”

I heard nothing beyond that. My ears buzzed.

How could anyone think it remotely plausible that I intended to ride off into the countryside—alone, or any other way? It was my own stupid fault for bluffing my way down to the knights. Nothing but trouble had come of that. Everyone had the wrong idea about me now; they thought me brave and reckless.

Looking into Kiggs’s dark eyes, though, I felt a little reckless.

No: a little breathless.

“You hesitate,” he said. “I suspect I know why.” I suspected he didn’t. He smiled; the whole room seemed to shimmer around him. “You’re worried that it’s improper, the pair of us riding off unescorted. I don’t see a problem. A larger party would put the knights on the defensive before we even arrived, and as for propriety, well. My fiancée isn’t worried, my grandmother won’t mind, Lady Corongi will be off visiting her sick cousin for the next couple days, and I see no one else of consequence likely to judge us.”