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I stepped out into the darkness, the mist swirling around my legs, just starting to appear. Asmund appeared at my side, looking as put together as ever. We walked into the keep, my mind still ringing from the yelling at our latest meeting. I checked my pockets to make sure I had a book to read, and continued on my way, Asmund trailing behind me.
“Az,” I said as we walked into the ballroom, “You can go on to your dinner, I’m going to be on the balcony.”
“Sir,” he replied, “If I might be so bold as to say that your father will not appreciate it if you refrain from socializing, especially since Lady-” I cut him off, “Az, I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself. Now, go on to your meal.”
“As you wish my lord.” And with that, he swept away to the back room where the servants ate. I walked along the wall furtively, hoping my father wouldn’t spot me. No matter what I said to Asmund, I did not want to encounter my father tonight. I sat at a table, looking around. I noticed a new girl, sitting alone with her terrisman still there, obviously nervous. I watched as three men approached her, and she smiled and graciously turned them down. Her slight build and short black hair reminded me of a sparrow, preparing to take flight. Though I could not see her face, I could tell she was beautiful, if in an unconventional way. I returned to reading my book and was sucked in for quite a while. Finally, I decided it was time to get away from all those aristocrats, and walked towards the staircase leading to the highest balcony.
I walked up to the stairs, taking them three at a time to reach the top. As I reached the last step I stopped and looked around to see if anyone was there. Damn, I thought, spotting a figure, No one is ever up here . I walked closer quietly, trying to get a closer look at the girl standing against the railing. It was the girl from below, and I was correct in thinking she was beautiful. She was radiant, her eyes were wide, looking down on the ball with a look of amazement and wonder, as if it weren’t the awful dance of politics and cruelty that I saw. I had to think of a reason to go up and talk to her. What could I do? I looked at the cup of wine that I had grabbed from a waiter downstairs, and an idea popped in my head.
“Now, see, here’s the problem with going to refill your cup of wine.” She jumped like I had a knife to her throat, and looked at me bewildered. I finally got a real look at her. She was so different than all the other women downstairs. Not caked in makeup, hair towering above her head, giant frivolous dress beautiful, but actually beautiful. Her hair was ink black and cut short, olive skin tanned and shiny, and her eyes a startling green.
“The problem is,” I said, still trying to engage her in a conversation, “you return to find that your favorite spot has been stolen by a pretty girl,” more like the most incredibly beautiful girl I have ever met I thought, “Now, a gentleman would move on to another place, leaving the lady to her contemplations,” I remembered her look of wonder, “However, this is the best spot on the balcony-it’s the place close enough to a lantern to have good reading light.” Her face still showed her shock at me being there, but then another emotion began to surface, embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” she replied. I was incredibly confused. I was flirting, couldn’t she tell? Instead, she acted subservient and small. I tried again.
“Ah, now I feel guilty,” I said, hoping she would realize I was just joking, “All for a cup of wine. Look, there’s plenty of room for two people here-just scoot over a bit.” I sidled up beside the beautiful girl and pulled out my book, waiting for her to speak to me again. She said nothing, so I looked down and began to read. Why doesn’t she talk? I wondered as I pretended to focus on the pages. My book was enjoyable, but what I was really hoping for was a conversation with the girl.
Finally, she spoke up.
“Do you always read at balls?” she asked me. I thought of the countless beatings on behalf of my father for behaving this way, and my mother standing behind him, doing nothing. She doesn’t need to know that I thought to myself, and replied simply with, “Whenever I can get away with it.”
“Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of coming?” she asked, seeming innocently curious, though if anyone else asked me that question I would snap at them, “Why attend if you’re just going to avoid socializing?” It’s not my choice, I wanted to say but knew that would take explaining, so again replied only with “You’re up here too.” She looked angry. What had I said? Women were so complicated.
“I just wanted a brief view of the hall,” she replied, getting more and more flustered, obviously I was doing something wrong.
“Oh?” I said, once again joking with her, “And why did you refuse all three men who asked you to dance?” I smiled, thinking I had gotten her attention, and played with her by returning to my book.
“There were four,” she said. One must have gone up when I wasn’t looking, “And I refused them because I don’t know how to dance very well.” Don’t know how to dance? How can you be raised in a noble family and not know how to dance?
“You know,” I said, hoping to compliment her, and honestly surprised on how brave she was, “You’re a lot less timid than you look.”
“Timid?” She asked, sounding offended, “I’m not the one staring at his book when there’s a young lady standing by him, never having properly introduced himself.” The way she said it sounded strange. It was as though she practiced these words but never had the chance to use them. Like she was trying to act like those snobs downstairs but was really a decent person. I decided to play along.
“Now, see, you sound like my father. Far better looking, but just as grumpy.” She just glared at me, not saying a word. I rolled my eyes, deciding she actually wanted my name.
“Very well, let me be the gentleman them.” I said finally, “I am Lord Elend” I searched my mind for a new lady who fit her description. There was only one, Lady Renoux. “Lady Valette Renoux, might I have the pleasure of sharing this balcony with you whilst I read?” I put on a show, being as funny as possible because it was obvious she didn’t get my sarcasm. She folded her arms, and just leaned against the railing, obviously unsatisfied.
“You still haven’t told me why you would rather read than participate,” she said, somewhat angrily. I decided on an excuse.
“Well, see, I’m not exactly the best dancer either.”
“Ah” She still looked at me warily, as if I were plotting against her or something. That idea was completely ridiculous, however, so I pushed it out of my mind.
“But” I raised a finger, “that’s only part of it. You may not realize this yet, but it’s not that hard to get overpartied. Once you attend five or six hundred of these balls, they start to feel a bit repetitive.” She only shrugged her shoulders.
“You’d probably learn to dance better if you practiced.” I raised my eyebrow, surprised at this criticism.
“You’re not going to let me get back to my book are you?”
“I wasn’t intending to.” I sighed, only slightly disappointed. She was fun talking to, much more so than those frivolous freaks downstairs.
“Well, then. Do you want to go dance instead?” I genuinely wanted to see if she was lying, as many do if they don’t want to dance. I had done so on many occasions. She froze. I realized I had just said a very good line, without realizing it. She probably thought I was smooth when all I was was socially awkward.
“That’s a no, I assume,” I said, hoping to free her-and myself- of this awkward situation, “Good-I thought I should offer since we’ve established that I’m a gentleman. However, I doubt the couples below would appreciate us trampling their toes.”
“Agreed,” she said, “What are you reading?” Finally, something I could answer with enthusiasm.
“Dilisteni. Trials of Monument . Heard of it?” I doubted she had. Sure enough, she shook her head. “Ah, well. Not many have.” I leaned against the railing as well and watched to horror below. “So, what do you think of your first experience at court?”
“It’s very...overwhelming,” she said, truth on her face.
I thought about my cruel father, hosting this party. I remembered my spot at the big table of the balcony, always set, never used.
“Say what you will about House Venture-they know how to throw a party.” She didn’t need to know my full name. She nodded.
“You don’t like House Venture then?” she asked. You have no idea .
“Not particularly, no. They’re an ostentatious lot, even for high nobility. They can’t just have a party, they have to throw the best party. Never mind they run their servents ragged setting it up, then beat the poor things in retribution when the hall isn’t perfectly clean the next morning.” I thought she would understand my sentiment. She just cocked her head at me, looking confused. Maybe she didn’t agree. “But, well, nevermind that. I think your Terrisman is looking for you.” She looked around and yelped.
“I’ve got to go.” She began to walk towards the stairwell.
“Ah, well then,” I said, disappointed that she was leaving, “back to reading it is.”