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The first time she noticed it, Alys thought she must be imagining things. The political dinner was ending and everyone was rather drunk, and she'd put Aral's unsteady voice and inattention down to that. Then she saw that Cordelia, sitting beside him, was looking very pleased with herself, and her hand--the one nearer Aral--was occupied below the tabletop. Alys frowned perplexity. Then Aral covered a gasp with an unconvincing cough, and Alys kicked Cordelia under the table. Cordelia grinned at her, but didn't stop, and Aral gasped again. Grimacing, Alys signalled to the waiter to pour more wine.
*
It was, Alys knew, traditional among some of the wilder young folk to misbehave at the Emperor's Birthday Ball, but she considered it part of the older generation's duty to discourage such wantonness. But Aral and Cordelia were not setting a very good example tonight. They were finally dancing together after separately working the party all evening. At least, Alys had to call it dancing, since they were on their feet in a ballroom and there was music playing and they were moving, but the dance they were doing was most assuredly not the one Alys had learned at school.
*
They were all very pleased that Aral had won the vote, of course, but to Alys's mind that was no excuse. As the Council Chamber emptied, Cordelia went down from the gallery to the chamber floor, straight to Aral on his campstool next to the Imperial dais, and kissed him in full view of everyone. That would have been bad enough, but then Aral pulled Cordelia onto his knee, facing him, and they carried on until Aral abruptly stood up, holding Cordelia tightly, and departed the chamber for the private office behind the dais. His Armsman expressionlessly stood guard outside.
*
It was fortunate that the Director of the Imperial Science Institute was absorbed in his scientific brilliance and was also rather short-sighted. Aral and Cordelia had their arms around each other as they listened to him expound upon his research, and this time Alys thought they were almost unconscious of the way their hands kept stroking each other. At least, until Aral's hand actually slid down Cordelia's bodice, and she snuggled against him. Feeling like a harrassed nanny with a gaggle of wayward children, Alys went to rescue the Director. It was absurd. Anyone would think they were still newlyweds.
*
Vorbarr Sultana society was, Alys knew, genuinely happy and relieved to see Aral back on his feet. He'd danced twice with Cordelia tonight, and Alys had watched him closely and seen that he was leaning on Cordelia by the end of the second dance, and she'd helped Cordelia coax him to sit down. Cordelia perched on the arm of Aral's chair, and Aral had suddenly grinned and pulled her into his lap, nuzzling her neck, and Cordelia took his hand and began to kiss it, lips moving over his fingers. Alys smiled indulgently.
"This time," she murmured, "I'll forgive you."
*
"Well, well."
Alys could hear the smirk in Cordelia's voice even without turning around. Which she had no particular wish to do right now.
"The tables turned at last, I see."
Simon tried to pull back, but Alys captured his leg between hers. "I suggest," she said with as much dignity as she could manage under the circumstances, "you find your husband if you're bored. We're busy."
"So I see." Cordelia frowned at them, then suddenly began to laugh. "Oh, I can't do the disapproving thing as well as you can anyway. Enjoy yourselves, both of you. You've earned it."