Even Chaol was wearing red, and he was unhappy about it.
"It isn't like you're standing out," Dorian pointed out. "You'd be standing out more in black."
Chaol would have looked good in red, Lillian reflected, if he didn't look so uncomfortable about it. Dorian looked fine if not stellar, and Elaine had contrived to embroider a beautifully detailed wyvern in white over his heart. She and Lillian had decided after some debate on the old fashioned design where it was curled in a circle, tip of its tail just ahead of its snout and wings folded loosely. Dorian had once said that when he was a child he'd thought it looked like the wyvern was chasing its tail and having a good time.
"Like a puppy," he'd admitted somewhat abashedly.
It had been too adorable an opportunity for Lillian to pass up, though she could understand why King Roland had gravitated towards the warlike, screaming wyverns that currently adorned the palace.
"Maybe we can just add red embroidery to one of your uniforms next time," she suggested to Chaol. "Red trim. An earring?"
"Nobody is putting a needle near my ear," Chaol said flatly, and Lillian and Dorian, both of whom had pierced ears, shrugged at each other.
The Summer Solstice celebrations were in the same royal garden as the banquet where Desmond, one of Dorian's cousins and short-lived rivals for the position of Crown Prince, had been murdered by Celaena. Lillian still hadn't figured out how exactly - poison seemed likely, given the givens, but what poisons and what sort of slight-of-hand remained unproven and to all appearances unexamined - and Celaena had been reticent on the subject.
Chaol, Dorian, and Lillian waited in the same side hall they had then to be announced, though this time Lillian wore cloth-of-gold-covered leather flat slippers with red glass beads instead of clear glass heels and tiny mirrors.
Faintly through the doors they heard, "Her Highness Nehemia Atarah Ytger, Crown Princess of Eyllwe."
"That's new," Chaol said, and Lillian frowned. The only other time Nehemia had been announced with the royals was the stageplay of a royal audience after the Calaculla massacre. What was the king planning?
"His Highness Hollin Havilliard," the herald continued.
"Have you spoken to Hollin at all?" Lillian murmured.
"No," Dorian said, and plastered a smile on his face as the doors swung open.
"His Highness Dorian Havilliard," the herald said, and nothing else.
Since at all other formal events he had announced Lillian, it took them a split second to realize he wasn't going to this time. Dorian shot a glare the herald's way as Chaol gave him and Lillian a tiny push to set them in motion, and they went down the stairs and into the sea of red.
Lillian fought the unreasonable pique at being ignored - by the herald, not by anyone else, everyone shot sideways looks at her now over the slight - and smiled at everyone until her teeth hurt. It was most likely not the herald's fault. Some organizer somewhere had handed him the list, and that organizer had probably received instructions from someone.
The king was making some sort of statement. Lillian wished she knew what it was: this seemed especially petty.
"His Majesty the king," the herald said after an appropriate interlude. "Her Majesty the queen. Lady Remelle."
Lillian, who had sunk into a deep curtsy with the rest of the non-royal members of the court, snapped her head up. On the king's right arm was, appropriately, Georgina. Her red dress' neckline rose to her chin and let the clinging fabric and gold and white embroidery emphasize her figure.
On his left arm was Remelle, resplendent in shining red silk embroidered with more red silk, only glimpses of gold winking in the tips of the wings of countless tiny birds worked in swirls all over the body of the dress. Her neckline was lower than Manon's had been the night before. Presumably the fact that her loose sleeves looked about to fall from her shoulders and down her arms was a skillfull illusion on the part of her seamstress because everything else fit perfectly, down to the way she had definitely been sewn into her bodice as Lillian had.
What kind of undergarments gave her that bosom, Lillian wondered, and where could she get some? Lillian herself usually liked her small chest, but there were some dress styles that looked better with -
Everyone rose and stood aside for the royals and Remelle. There were no smiles for them.
Lady Amerie of Meah said in an undertone behind Lillian, "No one can say this wasn't a possibility. Maybe Georgina will put herself away with the Maidens like Adeline."
"Georgina isn't involved in treason," Dorian hissed.
Amerie said pityingly, "You thought Leanne was?"
"Later," Lillian said as forcefully as she could without it carrying. Chaol gripped Dorian's elbow.
At least the formal announcements were over. "Mingle," Amerie suggested. "If anyone makes any comments about Lillian's lack of introduction, make a joke."
"I thought you all knew who I was by now?" Lillian suggested. "Something like that."
"She knows it's Remelle's first formal occasion," Dorian added, face still tight. "She didn't want to overshadow her."
"Don't be mean," Lillian said. "It's not Remelle's fault."
"Her fault or not, the fact that she's here is at least a threat to Georgina and you," Amerie replied before Dorian could. "Georgina can take herself to the Maidens with relative ease - as queen, she's already a benefactress. Will they take you in if you throw yourselves on their mercy?"
Lillian grimaced. They should - the Maidens of Deanna were ostensibly the protectors of all women - but they still seemed to protect a disproportionately large number of rich noblewomen.
"We have all noticed the resemblance," Amerie said. "Even the men have noticed something's off about it."
"Thanks so much," Chaol said.
"Sorry, if she didn't look like your lover would you have noticed before now?" Amerie asked.
"Gavin Havilliard married Elena and Rhiannon at the same time," Lillian said to spare Chaol Amerie's attention. "It's why the northern fiefs are part of Adarlan. Your father's so fond of tradition, why hasn't he married more than one woman at once?"
"He married Elena when Rhiannon left him," Amerie said. "It's not the same thing."
She smiled crookedly when they all three looked at her. "I'm not saying a case couldn't be made - King Durand married two women, though the council made him choose which one would be Queen in full and which one was just a consort - but that didn't end well either."
They stared.
"Read some history why don't you," she said. "I know your father likes to burn other people's libraries, but it isn't as if your cousins didn't get some special privileges."
"Do you read a lot about Elena?" Lillian asked too casually for Amerie to be fooled.
The elderly lady sighed. "I will endeavor to send you relevant texts. Some of the provenance is admittedly fishy - our nobles have over the centuries done a surprising amount of vanity publishing. I suppose that did make it difficult to track down every book with something different monarchs haven't liked."
She snorted when they continued to stare. "Did you think your father was the only autocrat in our history? Kings don't like books that say unflattering things about them or their ancestors." She poked Dorian in the chest. "Don't be like that."
"I don't think Lillian would let him," Chaol said.
Amerie shook her head at them. "Mingle!"
They obeyed.
Lillian found Hollin first. He stood stiffly beside Manon, who held a wineglass in one hand, carelessly loose as if daring it to spill on her sleek and trailing velvet skirts. Her nails were still deep red but the lip paint was lighter, making her look younger.
Manon did not appear to be doing anything, but Hollin had the same air of hunted nerves that Dorian did sometimes after a conversation with the king. Lillian cut through the remaining crowd and faked a stumble into Hollin, making him step back to more effectively catch her and leaving her between him and Manon.
"This gravel is awful," Lillian said cheerily. "Thank you for the rescue, Hollin. Who's this?"
Up close, Manon's eyes were a darker brown than Chaol's and her eyebrows arched in an apparently permanent expression of amused disdain.
Lillian was impressed. Few could pull off the expression as well as Erick Rompier, but Manon managed: maybe the two of them deserved each other.
"Oh," Hollin said. "Lillian, this is Lady Manon. Lady Manon, Lady Lillian. She's..."
There was a pause when Hollin trailed off, reluctant to introduce his brother's mistress as his mistress to his brother's former betrothed.
It was possible Lillian hadn't thought this through entirely, but she took comfort in the brief flash of irritation on Manon's face over being introduced as the lower-ranking lady.
"I've heard so much about you," she said politely, giving Manon the tiniest acknowledgement curtsy she could get away with.
"Only good things, I'm sure," Manon said dryly.
"Of course," Lillian replied, refusing to acknowledge the sarcasm. "Dorian says you're funny. Hollin, would you mind helping me get across this gravel to Nehemia?"
Hollin obligingly offered his arm, and Lillian gave Manon a little wave as they moved off.
"You don't need my help," Hollin said flatly. "You don't need anybody's help."
"Untrue," Lillian said. "Everybody needs help sometimes."
His face set stubbornly, but he didn't say anything for another moment. Lillian waited as they wound their way through greenery and knots of people.
"I didn't need help with Manon," he said finally.
"If you want to go back, be my guest."
He frowned. She sighed. "My friends rescue me from situations I don't want to be in all the time, even if I don't necessarily need them to."
"We aren't friends."
"Okay," Lillian said.
He frowned harder. "We aren't."
"Okay," she said again. "I'd like to be, though. Would you?"
He stopped walking, which made her actually stumble instead of faking it. Gravel really was the worst.
"That's not how it works," he said irritably. "You don't just ask people to be friends."
"Is there another way that's worked better for you?" Lillian asked, honestly curious.
Hollin opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and snapped it shut a final time, looking bewildered.
"I didn't think so," Lillian said. "Friends?"
"Where did Dorian even find you?" he demanded.
"I'm taking that as a yes," Lillian informed him. "Come on, I want to introduce you to Nehemia."
Hollin followed when she towed him along.