Over the next few days, Viviane did everything in her power to entrance the Prince subtly, while appearing outwardly indifferent to him. Lissane could not understand it.

"I do not see why you are so indifferent to His Highness, Vivi!" she exclaimed over tea one day in the parlor. "He is the Heir, and he is staying with us! Surely you cannot be insensible of the great favor that King Frederick is showing us!"

Viviane snorted. She knew exactly why Simon was here, and as for favors…well, she was the one giving them, not Frederick.

"Vivi! Are you listening to a word I just said?" her aunt demanded.

Viviane shook her head to clear it, apologizing prettily to Lissane. "I fear I was not, ma'am," she said politely. "Do forgive my transgression."

Her aunt smiled at her, appeased. "Forgiven, my dear," she said. "But about the Prince…"

"What about him?" Viviane asked coldly.

"Yes, what about him?" echoed a voice. It was Simon.

Viviane turned and saw him in the doorway. He had been riding, she could tell, for his breeches were lightly dusted with gingery horse hair, and his tall black boots were covered with mud splatters. His hair was mussed, and there was a smear of dirt across one cheek. A twig was caught in his hair. Viviane smothered a giggle at the sight of the haughty prince looking so unkempt.

"Oh, Your Highness!" exclaimed her aunt. "How silly of me not to notice you! Do go upstairs and refresh yourself-we still have a few hours before dinner. Oh, and I've invited a few close friends of mine from nearby, I hope you don't mind? No? Good. It's not so many, we should number nine at the dinner table, and we'll have cards afterwards. Perhaps Viviane will even consent to sing for us! She has a lovely voice, you know-"

Lissane stopped. Simon was no longer standing in the doorway. "Oh," she said.

"See what an abominably rude and arrogant man he is?" Viviane cried, raking advantage of the situation.

"Nonsense, Vivi darling. He's a Prince. He probably thought I had stopped talking to him! Anyway, I'm sure he must have far more important things to do than listen me jabber away!" she finished brightly. "Now off with you! Bathe yourself and dress for dinner! And, Vivi?"

Viviane looked at her. "Yes, aunt?"

"Don't dress too…revealingly, would you dear? I don't want to shock our guests…"

Vivinae nodded. "Of course, Lissane."

Two and a half hours later, Viviane was dressed, and she was quite pleased with the result. Her luxurious hair was pinned in a loose bun at the base of her neck, and wooden hairsticks with pearls on the end held it in place. Around her neck she wore a single strand of pearls, with a pearl teardrop hanging from it, and she wore pearl teardrop earrings to match. Her dress was pink and cream silk, with a ruffle-covered sweetheart neckline, and puffed sleeves. The overgown was sheer, and it fastened with a pearl and gold pin below her breasts. Her slippers were white silk, embroidered with pearls. Not too revealing. At least the majority of her breasts was covered.

She made her way downstairs, and Lissane met her at the bottom. "Vivi, lovely!" she exclaimed, glancing at the dress. "Most appropriate. You have such a sense of style, my dear. Come."

Lissane led the way into a dining hall, where guests were already arriving and seating themselves. Lissane led Viviane to a seat a few down from her own at the head of the table-right across from Simon's. Viviane hid a grimace. Seducing him was distasteful to her now. Damn Frederick and his plans. Damn him!

Lissane seated herself, then rang a small bell by her plate to call everyone's attention to her. "Guests," she said pleasantly, smiling down the table at everyone, making eye contact with each guest. "I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you all came to my humble gathering tonight. I would like you each to rise and introduce yourselves to the people staying with me, as I doubt they've ever met you before!" she laughed. "Although you all know me, I will begin. I am Lady Lissane of Coutrell, this estate. This," she indicated Viviane, "is my niece, Lady Viviane, who will one day inherit the estates of Delmare and Elsven. And this," she indicated Simon, "is Prince Simon, the heir of the country, and King Frederick's stepson."

The guest clapped politely for Simon, and then the man seated next to him stood. "I am Henri, Viscount of Sorenden," he said.

"I am Elissa, the Vicountess Sorenden, and Henri's wife."

"Lady Mara of Sybell."

"Geran, a country squire."

"Alana, his wife."

"Bettin, their daughter."

"Sir Tyrone, her fiancé."

Viviane was bored. Dinner was excellent, of course-Lissane was a fabulous manager of households-but the company was thin, and Prince Simon kept staring at her. She could not fathom it. If he was so opposed to her, could her not just ignore her? Was he unused to seeing her so properly dressed? Was he maybe rethinking his harsh words? She laughed to herself as the last thought crossed her mind. Prince Simon rethink his judgement of her? Ha! Never.

After dinner, the party retired to the large parlor, and they sat about, trying to think of something to say. Then Simon stood up and walked over to the piano. "I have been told that the Lady Viviane has an excellent voice," he said. "I would be much obliged if she would sing for us. I will accompany you, my lady, if you wish it."

Hmm. What is his game? Viviane wondered. Does he think I have a bad voice, and hope to show me up? Well, we'll see about that!

Taking a place by the piano, she smiled at him. "I would be honored to have you accompany me, " she told him. "What songs do you know, Prince Simon?"

"The classics, of course," he said, "and some war songs. I was taught a few ballads in old Elvish, and some love songs."

Viviane bared her teeth in a grin. "Oh, by all means, let it be a love song, Prince," she said. "Do you know Lisrael mi vo ca Teira?"

"My Lord is the King of My Heart?" Simon asked, raising an eyebrow as he translated-perfectly, of course.

Damn. He had realized the significance of that particular song. She covered her embarrassment by smiling again. "Beautifully translated, Prince. Do you know it? It is one of my favorites."

He gave her an odd look. "And one of mine. My mother taught it to me before she…yes, I know it well. Shall we begin?"

Viviane gave a curt nod, and she turned to her audience. Simon played the opening bars, and she opened her mouth.

"Lisrael mi vo ca Teira

Si vai domingo rae da

Eis nar sil mar con faedra

Lo, li noma, mi vo!" she sang, letting the familiar old Elvish words roll off her tongue easily, and letting herself get swept up in the music. Singing was one of her true talents, and she hardly ever got a chance to sing at court. She opened her mouth wider for the next part.

"Lo, li noma, mi cara

Mia, ti veia, ti vola!

Lo, li no oh oh oh oh oh oh ma!

Lo, li no oh oh oh oh oh OH MA!" The music slowed, and Viviane took a breath before continuing on.

"Lisrael mi vo ca Teira

Si vai domingo rae da

Eis nar sil mar con faedra

Lo, li noma, mi vo

Eis rein, das lora

Mi cara, mi cara

Mi vo, mi vo, mi vo oh oh

Mi vo, mi vo, mi vo oh!

Taras, kan libras feil dansa

Taras, kan dura

Si barra

Lisareal, lisreal, bet kindra

Mi vo est ti vo con fa!

Con fa ah

Con FA!"

On the last note, high for Viviane's mezzo voice, she flung her arms out. Simon played the last chord, and the music ended, the notes lingering on the air for a moment. Then the applause started.

"Brava! Bravo!" cried Geran, jumping to his feet. "That was marvelous! What a voice you have, Lady Viviane!"

Viviane inclined her head to him. "My thanks," she said. Then inspiration struck, and she held a hand to Simon, indicating that they should bow together. He hesitated, but finally took the offered hand and stepped forward, and both bowed together.