37

One morning, I walked into the kitchen to see if any of the grapes we'd gotten from Lelcar were left, and I found Madelon and Rhone locked in an impressively passionate embrace. The three of us stared at each other like stunned bunnies, then we all sort of yipped and dashed out various exits.

When I'd collected myself, I felt pretty disgusted with Madelon. Was she still just using Rhone? Well, this time it really wasn't my business, and what friendship I'd once shared with Madelon seemed to have deteriorated completely, so I tried to put her out of my thoughts. I harnessed Kiani for vaulting, asked Rocco to hold her lunge line, and put us through our paces. My mind was not on vaulting though, so I fell every time I attempted a handstand (something I've been able to do since age twelve). I tumbled down ingloriously. The third time, Kiani's hoof inadvertently clipped my face as she passed. The edge of a horseshoe can be pretty sharp, and I brought my hand up to feel a shallow cut along my jaw.

Rocco frowned with concern. "My lady, perhaps now isn't a good time."

I glared at him. How dare he suggest that my mood was anything than perfect? I glanced over at Kiani, who'd stopped and was watching me, probably hoping that we were done for the day. Sarqa, at the fence, was leaning his head towards me. He snorted, probably telling Kiani, "Psssh, in my day, I could toss her ten feet, no problem. What's the matter with you young 'uns?"

I sighed. I knew very well that I felt troubled, and, for once, I knew why. Though Madelon and I hadn't been anything like close for ages, she'd been my closest female friend in Sable. Donna, though probably my best friend, was far away in Estrise, and even when I visited her, she constantly had to be checking on her two rambunctious sons. My other female friends all came from court, nice girls, but our friendships didn't go very deep. I felt lonely, and I wanted a precise, fluid, gorgeous vaulting drill to make me feel better about it.

Rocco had seen that I was bleeding, and, like a chivalrous soldier, had knelt next to me and offered his handkerchief. I thanked him and gingerly dabbed at the blood.

"Another run."

We had another run. I mounted easily enough, did a collected spin on her back, then shifted to the handstand, taking it by steps.

I overbalanced. Bang to the ground. I sat up quickly, not giving myself time to start crying. "I'm done for today, I guess."

Rocco was silent. He was probably surprised that I was giving up.

"Well," I said. "Another run then."

Four more runs. Third one was perfect, even if I fell on the fourth one again. I felt marginally better.

Mother was alarmed when I came in. "Salisha, what happened?"

It took me a moment to realize that I was scruffy with dirt and that my jaw probably sported a lividly raised welt. "Just took a few falls in the ring."

"Nothing broken, I hope?"

"No."

"Well, you need a bath. Come with me, I was just about to take one."

Once ensconced in our bath house (You think a hot place like Sable wouldn't want a bath house? Try living in a region where the principle crop is dust.), I sighed and watched the warm water turn slowly brown. Mother had scented it with rosemary and mint.

"Now Salisha," she said in that businesslike voice which can mean either good or bad news, "there's...something I think you should know."

I raised my eyebrows. "You already gave me that talk."

She waved a soapy hand. "Not that. Though-" She began to work the soap through her long brown hair. "It's a bit related."

I stifled a groan. "I'm only twenty-two. I'm not an old maid quite yet. And you don't want me to marry recklessly, do you?"

Mother rolled her eyes. "Put something on that welt, Salisha. It almost looks like you had some horrible shaving accident."

I snorted. "Shaving with a katana, maybe." I reached for some of the soap.

"Salisha," Mother said, "I've had another suitor."

Of course, by this Mother meant that the suitor was for me, not her. I nodded. I'd had several over the years, but none of them had gone beyond a casual friendship. "Who?"

"Dinn."

The soap squirted from between my hands and plopped into the water, splashing me in the left eye. I stared at Mother, wondering if she were setting me up for a joke. "Really?"

Mother nodded, eyeing me carefully, probably already deciding how she'd detail my reaction later to Father.

"Oh," I said, at a loss.

Mother raised her eyebrows. "And what do you think?"

"What do you think?" I countered. "He has to have Father's permission for this to be aboveboard."

"He already does."

"Oh," I said, feeling very self-conscious. A courtship isn't the same thing as an engagement, not nearly. But for Father to have given his consent, it clearly meant he felt Dinn was a suitable candidate. "He's not noble-born."

Mother shrugged. "Do you really care? His position as General puts him quite comfortably on par with you." She began to scrub her left arm. "Of course, Grand is thrilled. He's always wanted you to marry a fighting man. And Dinn's very handsome, so that bodes well for my pretty grandbabies."

"Well, you two can stop being thrilled," I shot back. "We aren't married." I concentrated on scrubbing my feet. "I'm not sure I'll even accept Dinn's attentions."

"Yes, your loftiness."

I frowned. "I don't know what I did to inspire this sort of...thing."

"You like Dinn."

"I certainly like Dinn. I like a lot of people I don't necessarily want to marry."

"You like him better than Lord Volga."

I looked up, startled.

Mother smiled. "As you say, Salisha, you still have plenty of time to decide. It's just something to remember."

I went back to scrubbing my feet. So Dinn was courting me. Didn't that just ruin a perfectly comfortable friendship?

Maybe not, I amended. Maybe this was just some vague notion of his. Maybe he wasn't very serious.

...I think I can hear you laughing.