Rerdas sat in the front room of the grounds house, finishing another coat of polish on the toes of his boots. He eyed the gleaming surfaces critically for a moment and then dropped his foot to the ground with an impatient stomp.

"Etiana! We're already well past fashionably late! Dantin has been waiting for a full season by now!" he shouted, his voice echoing down the hall. Earl Heckly had secured his own invitation from the Duke of Umber and insisted that Rerdas and Etiana could not arrive in a rented carriage, but should ride with him. 

A moment later Hammond popped out of the hall and stopped in the doorway, wearing a contented smile. "May I present the Lady Etiana Toriem," he said with suitable gravitas, stepping aside so that Etiana could glide into the front room. 

Rerdas sat up and looked her over, wide-eyed.

"Is it too much?" she asked, in a tone that said she didn't really care what he answered. 

Rerdas grinned. "You look wonderful. It's perfect."

Dantin Heckly had made good on his promise, and with his help Etiana looked the part of a wealthy noblewoman on her way to cavort with royalty. Her dress had a dangerously low cut neckline topping a corset embroidered with gold. Waves of lustrous black and gold satin made up her voluminous skirt, and diamonds glittered around her neck, on her fingers and in the tightly wound braid of her hair. In spite of all the grumbling she had done earlier in the day, her cheeks were flushed and eyes bright with excitement. When Rerdas offered his arm, she was unable to bite back her smile.

"Good luck!" Hammond cried after them, as they processed across the courtyard and to Dantin's waiting carriage outside the manor gates. They were off to the ball.

Dantin and Etiana kept up a constant patter of conversation as the carriage veered toward the North Inner Ring, where the sprawling Umber estate had long stood. For his part, Rerdas kept quiet, trying not to show too much of his apprehension.

He had promised Etiana that he would attend the ball with her. After all, the Duke had invited them both, although Rerdas assumed his invitation had merely been an attempt to ensure that Etiana would come. The prospect of facing the entire court was unsettling to him. This was the sort of event where drunken lords would take any excuse to challenge people to duels, just to stake their own reputations. Gossip would flow as relentlessly as the wine, and Rerdas dreaded hearing his family name mentioned amid the stream. They had much to hide, and appearing at the ball was a risk.

He shifted uneasily and leaned toward the carriage window, pushing the curtain aside to watch as they rolled onto the tree-lined avenue outside the Duke's estate. It was dark, but Rerdas knew the thick green foliage on the trees was thinning out. Soon the leaves themselves would change, and then collectors would come to call for the Queen's Tax. His thoughts drifted to the man still cornered in their cellar. It made him queasy to think that they had staked so much on him.

Since the incident with the wooden stave, Rerdas had been careful to have several weapons on his person whenever he went into Imalroc's quarters. The fighter had kept up his subservient charade, but Rerdas watched for tell-tale signs of anger. He had to admit that he barely caught any. For a man who had in that one unshielded moment seemed consumed by hatred, Imalroc was remarkably good at hiding it. He was still not an impressive figure, however, and Rerdas was at a loss as to how he might train the man back into fighting shape.

Imalroc was too dangerous to take out of the cellar unchained, but there was not much training that could take place in the bare, cool room. Etiana was struggling to set up a fight for them, and all the while what money they had left slipped out of their hands, one onyx ingot at a time. Rerdas forcibly drew his focus back to the task at hand. Securing the Duke of Umber's favor was their best option.

They joined the line of carriages filing into the estate, easing slowly toward the distant manor house. Rerdas, Etiana, and Heckly all leaned out the windows and fell into awed silence. Sloping lawns ran like green velvet up to the flying buttresses of the manor, which seemed to thrust its bulk out of the hilltop in an effort to dominate even the sky. A jagged row of toothy towers ridged the topmost peaks of the palace, which was built of stone cloaked in an ivory plaster that seemed to glow faintly. The great entrance had been thrown open and blazed with light and fragrant garlands. Colorful paper lanterns ran down from the doorway and lined the drive for the approaching carriages.

"Well," Etiana said breathlessly, "He spared no expense."

"I do not think any of this is a great strain for him," Heckly said dryly. His liveryman sprang down from behind the coach to open the door once they had pulled even with the entrance. Rerdas helped Etiana down from the carriage and took her arm, giving her hand a brief squeeze. The three of them joined the nobles crowding in toward the gathering hall.

In spite of the trumpeting voice of the herald, nobody looked around at the announcement of the Toriems' arrival. Earl Heckly was accosted at once by one of his associates, and gave the cousins a sharp nod of encouragement before disappearing into a blur of expensive waistcoats and heady perfumes.

"We're both going to need a drink, aren't we?" Etiana muttered, half to herself. Rerdas nodded frantically, and they tracked down the nearest server, who handed them delicate flutes filled to the brim with sweet wine. Rerdas tossed half a glass down in a single gulp, willing the taste of overripe fruit and summer flowers to give him a flush of courage.

"Let's find the Duke," Rerdas said. Etiana steered him through the crowds, stopping to greet anyone with whom she had the slightest acquaintance. Their progress was slow, and Rerdas was on his fourth glass of wine before they spotted the broad-shouldered figure of their host. He gave them only a cursory glance at first, but then turned back with a gleeful grin.

"The cousins Toriem! I am glad to see you," he rumbled, striding toward them. Etiana sank into a graceful dip, and Rerdas bowed with her. The Duke reached for Etiana's hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

"Your Grace," she began in the musical lilt she had perfected, "we are privileged to be in your beautiful home. You afford us a great honor."

"I receive you as my friends, dear lady," he replied formally, before turning his grin on Rerdas.

"And how are you, huntmaster?" he asked.

"Grateful to be in such heady company," Rerdas murmured. The Duke's answering smile was a little too amused for Rerdas' liking. 

Umber switched his attention back to Etiana's upturned face. "Now, what is this I hear of you entering battleboxing?" Duke Umber asked. A few interested faces swiveled toward them. 

Etiana was undaunted by her sudden audience. "I have always loved the sport," she answered brightly. "And Duke Wester was kind enough to deliver me an incredible opportunity."

"Some would say he swindled you, Lady Toriem," a red-faced courtier at Umber's elbow said. Umber arched an eyebrow at him, but the man was undoubtedly emboldened by the wine tilted in his hand. 

Etiana laughed. "A man of Duke Wester's stature has no need to tolerate an imperfect performance from a fighter. But gifting him to me hardly counts as a swindle," she said. 

Rerdas felt a smile tugging at his lips. Etiana could put on an extraordinary act when called upon.

"I am pleased to hear you are of sound mind, milady," a silky voice said. The ring of watchers that had formed around Etiana and Umber rippled back to reveal the Duke of Wester. Rerdas' hand tightened around his glass and he took a step closer to Etiana. He did not like what he had heard of this duke. The rest of the crowd was fixated on Wester's haughty expression, but Umber's eyes flickered back to Rerdas, eyeing his protective stance.

"As for you, sir," Wester turned contemptuously toward the unfortunate courtier who had spoken, "You have the wrong measure of me. I did not hide my opinion of the fighter from Lady Toriem, but I did respect her wishes. He is of no use to me, perhaps he can be something to her, and that is the end of it."

"Of course, Your Grace," the red-cheeked man said, shrinking back.

"When will you put him back in a battlebox, Lady Etiana?" The question came from a statuesque woman leaning on the Count of Rilla's arm. His third or fourth wife, if Rerdas remembered correctly.

"That remains to be seen." Etiana forced a smile. Standing a little behind his cousin, Rerdas saw her shoulders tighten. The truth was that she could find no one of worth who was interested in setting up a battle with such a dishonored fighter. None of the owners here would stoop to Imalroc's level, but without a top fight there would be no profit. They were stuck. Most of the nobles knew this, and the expressions of the people around the Toriems ranged from sympathy to derision. Rerdas was as tense as his own bowstring drawn tight and ready to let arrows fly.

He felt the prickle of an intent gaze upon him, and looked over to see that the Duke of Umber was watching him again, his expression unreadable. His eyes snapped back to Etiana when Rerdas looked at him.

"Milady, I would love to help you set up a good battle," Umber said, blithely ignoring the ripple of shock that rushed through his onlookers. 

Etiana blinked and gathered herself. "Your Grace...I'm not sure I catch your meaning?"

"I mean to say that I too have some young fighters. Not of Duke Wester's caliber, I'm afraid." He inclined his head, respectfully toward his peer. Wester looked frosty in spite of the compliment. "But some of my greener battleboxers might learn a thing or two from a fight with an old hand such as Imalroc."

"Your generosity knows no bounds, Your Grace." Etiana managed, surprise still etched across her face. 

The Duke beamed at her. "Then I will set a date with Ori Canning. He runs a number of respectable battleboxes on the East Outer Ring. We can hash out the specifics later on."

"I am in your debt, Your Grace," she answered breathlessly. Rerdas could hear the excitement bubbling beneath her gratitude. 

Umber gave her a broad smile. "I may hold you and your huntmaster to that, milady," he said, twinkling eyes dancing back toward Rerdas. Etiana shot a glance at her cousin to get him to bow. Rerdas obeyed stiffly, but Umber was already turning away, shouting for the musicians to strike up and commence the dancing. That was the huntmaster's cue to slip away and linger against the wall somewhere, but Etiana seized his elbow and began to haul him off in another direction, a smile pasted on her face as she whipped past curious guests.

Earl Heckly materialized on Rerdas' other side, and both of them practically shoved Rerdas onto the broad terrace outside the gathering hall, pulling him around the corner and out of sight of the crowd.

"Did you see that?" Etiana gasped.

"Yes," Heckly said, nodding furiously.

"See what?" Rerdas asked.

"I have squeezed myself into this corset for nothing and you are the biggest idiot in the world!"

 Rerdas cocked his head at her, but Heckly broke in before he could voice his confusion.

"My dear, such a corset could never be for nothing! Perhaps if we are in the business of hunting for patrons, you might turn your attention toward Wester?" Heckly offered. 

Etiana waved her hand impatiently. "I am not at all interested in Wester. He's a pig. But Umber..." she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Rerdas.

"I thought that's why we were here," Rerdas said slowly. Etiana rolled her eyes and Heckly gave her a reproachful look.

"You can hardly blame him for missing it, Etiana," he said disapprovingly. "The signs were subtle."

"That was about as subtle as a house on fire!" she crowed, flinging her hand back toward the gathering hall before grabbing Rerdas by his shoulders. "Sober up, dear cousin, or drink more. Whatever you have to do. Umber is not the least bit interested in me. But if you start batting your lovely long eyelashes at him, I think he'll do a great deal more for us than just throw us a fight or two."

"I'm...he's not...what?" Rerdas garbled incoherently. 

Etiana smirked. "Nobody's saying you have to marry him," she said. "Just make him happy, am I right?"

"You," Rerdas said, halting to suck in a deep breath, "are out of your mind."

"She's not," Heckley interjected. "Umber is friendly toward her, but you're the one he won't let himself look at for too long. It would be too obvious. I'm afraid you misread the Duke's intentions, my dear boy."

"I think I need to go home," Rerdas said queasily.

"You've been saying it yourself for the past week," Etiana hissed. "This is a wonderful chance. A bridge we cannot afford to burn. You lectured me about it just this morning!"

"I know," Rerdas mumbled, looking at his boots. When he looked up again after a long pause, his face was pinched with discomfort.

"What should I do?"

"Rerdas, you like men," Etiana growled in exasperation. "Luckily for you Umber is young and attractive, not some doddering half-deaf old man. Go talk to him! Banter! Flirt!" 

Heckly patted his shoulder comfortingly. "Perhaps you do not need to do what Etiana might were she in your position. You can wait. If he is truly interested, he will seek you out."

"I...All right. I can do that."

"I will go distract the hordes," Etiana said with a fierce grin, already bolting back toward the gathering room. Rerdas hurled the rest of his wine back and leaned against the terrace wall, looking out over the manicured gardens.

"Rerdas," Heckly began slowly, his voice lowered, "I do not want to make you more nervous, but...a man such as the Duke of Umber is not accustomed to being denied. There have been...there have been others before you. Some pleased the duke, and secured their footing in court."

Whatever story Heckly was trying to tell him, there must be an underside to it. Rerdas ran a hand through his curls, twisting them. "And were there others? Ones who did not please the duke?"

Heckly's expression was solemn. "There were."

"What happened to them?"

"Nothing you truly want to know."

Rerdas pressed his lips together until they hurt. He nodded once. "I understand. But I've never been good at this. I hate small talk. I'd rather just fuck," he said roughly.

"I imagine the duke will be pleased to hear that," the earl replied, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled. He drew Rerdas' empty glass out of his hand. "I will get you another."

Rerdas stood alone on the terrace for far too long. He traced his fingertips along the cold marble of the wall, his eyes lowered. His head was spinning. He had hoped that he might drift unnoticed through the rest of the night, but now if that happened he would feel like a failure. Yet the duke's attention was an offering that at any moment could turn rotten, and he would be at Umber's mercy. At least Umber had some mercy, if his reputation was true. All he could do was wait, and play the game as best he could when his turn came.  A soft sigh escaped, and he bowed his head toward folded hands, waiting.