This chapter has an audiobook accompaniment! Courtesy of the lovely CarolineDonica, you can find it both above and on Youtube under the channel 'GreenScholarTales'. 

Ten years later

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The Saurivic estate fair hummed with activity. Servants swarmed everywhere, putting the final touches on this flower arrangement or that floor polish. No one even dared go near the kitchens, where the cooks were ordering everyone about with the steely authority of First Company knights. Every banister had been dusted, every window hung with the good silk curtains. Outside, the gardeners fussed over their flowerbeds and lit the lanterns lining the path to the front doors.

Tonight the Saurivic family was hosting a ball in honor of Crowning Day. Crowning Day marked the anniversary of First King Amenthis' coronation, and by extension, the birth of Goran itself. Every Gorian household marked the occasion, some more ostentatiously than others. The nobility of Vaelona made celebrating Crowning Day into something of a sport, each trying to out-do the others when it came their turn to host the party.

Upstairs, away from all the noise and activity of the household, the heir to the Saurivic family name stood bent over his wash basin, a towel draped across his shoulders. Wringing excess yellow dye from his damp hair, the young lord straightened and looked in the mirror. A little sigh of resignation escaped him. The face in the glass was the same that had always greeted him for the past twenty years.

Jatheryn Saurivic had been born as bleached white as the first snows of winter. Nothing about him had any color whatsoever, not even the rings of his eyes. If he were an illustration in a manuscript, he would have been the one that the artists forgot to color in. Nothing could have set Jatheryn further apart in a city like Vaelona, with its deep love of beauty in all its hues, displays, and extravagancies.

It was fairly common knowledge that Jatheryn's mother, Rosarin Saurivic, had been direly ill during her pregnancy with him. Somehow, no one knew how, that sickness had affected him in the womb. Whatever its cause, the Saurivic family had never lived Rosarin's illness and Jatheryn's appearance down.

Rubbing his freshly washed head dry, Jatheryn dubiously eyed the result. He had been dyeing his bone-white hair a somewhat less offensive shade of pale blonde for as long as he could remember. It did little to help the rest of him though. Why couldn't fate have been at least a little merciful and given Jatheryn his maternal relatives' square jaw and broad forehead? Instead, Jatheryn had inherited his father's precise, bony features and his mother's narrow eyes. The finished product was a razor-sharp, hollow looking face that seemed incapable of warmth.

With another sigh and a shrug, Jatheryn put aside the towel and set to work dressing himself. His private rooms were his one sanctuary, and he was loathe to go downstairs. Today was Crowning Day though, and every member of the Saurivic family was expected to be in attendance.

As he laced up the sides of his ocher tunic, embroidered with the black and gold Saurivic family crest, he paused to look longingly at his viol, where it leant in the corner. The polished wood gleamed in the late afternoon sun, beckoning him to stay and play a while. The instrument had been a gift from his grandfather, Lord Jalborn, on his thirteenth . As the heir to one of Vaelona's richest families, Jatheryn owned many fine things, but that viol was his most treasured possession.

Reluctantly turning his back to the room, Jatheryn went out into the hallway. Over the banister, he could clearly hear the servants rushing about making final preparations. Somewhere below in the house he could also hear his father's voice. No one took the public appearance of their family more seriously than Jahaelis Saurivic.

"I thought you said you were going to wear the indigo tunic, the one with the stars on it?"

Awenis Saurivic stood with her head cocked to one side, examining her elder brother's apparel curiously. Born three years after Jatheryn, Awenis was one of the select few people in all of Goran whose company Jatheryn genuinely enjoyed. That came largely from their being the only two in existence who understood the world through the other's eyes.

Rosarin's strange illness had afflicted not only her firstborn, but her second as well; Awenis was pale beyond pale, like a porcelain figurine. Unlike Jatheryn, Awenis did have some color to her. Her long, baby fine hair shone white-gold without dyeing, and her lips and cheeks hinted at just the slightest rosy blush. Awenis' eyes were a strange, ghostly shade of the lightest amber, as if they were brown being seen through several layers of frosted glass. Jatheryn loved Awenis with a fierce, protective love, and she returned his affection as only an adoring little sister could.

"I changed my mind."

Jatheryn tried to deflect the question casually. In truth, he knew what kind of disapproval he would earn from both his mother and father if he were to wear his favorite dark blue clothes to the ball. Such grim shades only enhanced his lack of color, according to Rosarin.

Awenis smiled slightly, understanding her brother without words. "Well, I suppose we ought to wear the family crest anyways since tonight is a formal affair. Do you think Gran and Grandfather Wynmyar will come?"

"Doubtful," Jath replied. "Blue Stone is a little far off to come just for one ball."

"Ah, you spoil all my wishful thinking!" Awenis pouted, but Jatheryn could easily hear the playfulness behind her petulant words.

"That's what I'm here for."

Awenis rolled her eyes dramatically. Then she turned in a sudden spin on her toes, setting the hem of her carnation-pink gown fluttering in the still indoor air. Silver birds and roses detailed in glittering thread caught the light across her tiny shoulders and torso as she spun. Awenis was small and delicately built, prompting Jatheryn to tease her with the nickname "Birdy" when they were children.

"Well, what do you think?" Awenis smiled, no doubt fishing for a compliment from her oft-obliging brother.

Jatheryn clapped, less sarcastically than he would have done in his teenage years. "Splendid. You'll have to fend off dance offers with the gardener's stick tonight." Awenis beamed.

Heels sounded on the marble staircase, click-clacking loudly as their wearer hurried up toward them.

"Awenis, Jatheryn, there you two are." Their aunt Tyene swept her hawk-like gaze over them, inspecting them from head to toe. "Awenis, go and put more blush on, and lip stain too. You don't want to be looking so pale in such a lovely gown, my dear."

"Oh, I forgot...I was just so excited to get downstairs."

Awenis flicked out her kittenish tongue over bare lips. Jenni, Awenis' maid, stuck her head out of Awenis' room, a hairbrush and jeweled hair clips in hand.

"My lady, come back! We haven't finished yet."

"Coming, Jenni."

Awenis gathered up her long gossamer dress and scooted back down the hall. Jatheryn thought she looked more than ready as she was, but held his tongue. Men learned from a young age in Vaelona that the subject of women's beauty regimes was strictly off limits.

Tyene then fastened her raptor sharp focus on Jatheryn. "You should be downstairs with the rest of the family. Guests will start arriving any minute now."

"Right."

Not giving his always watchful aunt any further chance to comment, Jatheryn hurried down the stairs, the smooth banister cold under his hand. The smell of roses filled the foyer from several carefully placed vases. Two of the servants skittered past with candles and candlesticks piled high in their arms. They nodded respectfully to Jatheryn, taking care to avoid his eye. Sometimes Jatheryn wondered if they thought he was capable of cursing them with his colorless gaze. It was a notion almost amusing in its morbid self-depreciation.

He found his mother and father in the drawing room, consulting on some last-minute changes to the evening's menu. Rosarin had her usual mask of heavy cream, oil, and lavender on her face and hands. Whenever Rosarin had to make a rare public appearance, she would leave the greasy concoction on her skin until the very last minute possible. The sickness which had nearly taken her life had also prematurely aged and dehydrated Rosarin. Without her pre-event cream-and-oil mask, Rosarin's skin would be flaking and cracking within the hour. Even with it, she was still far more wrinkled than any other woman her age. A tall glass of water with lemon sat on the end table; a constant that Rosarin was never without.

"There you are, Jatheryn. I wanted to speak with you before the ball tonight."

Jahaelis dismissed the assistant cook with a final scribble on the menu. Leaning back against the yellow velvet lounge couch, the heir apparent to the Saurivic family headship cut an impressive figure. The years had only just recently succeeded in putting a few slivers of grey into Jahaelis's hair and mustache. Otherwise he remained as slim and tall as a man closer to Jatheryn's age.

"What about, Father?" Jatheryn chose a brutally straight-backed chair and sat. The one aspect of his appearance that anyone had ever let him be proud of was his impeccable posture.

Habitually lacing his fingers together, Jahaelis peered at his son. "I know that socializing at events such as these is not your...natural inclination. Still, I would like you to at least make an effort this time. No retreating upstairs or to the gardens as soon as the music starts. I expect to be able to find you present on the main floor, inside, at any given time this evening. Am I clear?"

"Yes, I hear you Father."

"You hear, but will you listen?" Rosarin spoke from her seat in the corner of the divan. Her voice was just as rough and gravely as ever. "You must promise that you will not excuse yourself early from the Crowning Day ball."

Leave it to his mother to catch the loopholes that Jatheryn always tried to leave for himself. Shoulders sagging imperceptibly, Jatheryn nodded.

"I promise I will not leave early."

"Very good, that was all I wanted to hear." Jahaelis smiled in satisfaction.

Thinking that was the worst of it and it was over with, Jatheryn gripped the arms of his chair in preparation to rise, but Jahaelis stopped him with a swiftly upraised hand.

"One more thing; a specific request if you will. The Farakirn family will be in attendance tonight, along with their youngest daughter, Kendris. Perhaps you might make good on your promise to be social at the ball by engaging with her in conversation. I hear she's a reasonably intelligent girl, and recently come of age."

Jatheryn had to think quickly. How badly did he want to avoid a confrontation with his father today? The Farakirns were technically a noble family in Vaelona, but only just. Roughly eight years ago, a girl from the mighty Iralar family had put her foot down and demanded to marry a member of that particular family of commoners. Less than a week later, someone had "discovered" that the Farakirn family had prestigious ancestry. Still, all the rest of the nobility continued to view the Farakirns as little more than glorified working class. Weighing the circumstances, he decided perhaps it was best to pick his battles for the moment. To aggravate Jahaelis Saurivic on the eve of a large public event was to court disaster.

"Very well, I will make an effort to speak with Lady Kendris tonight as well. Is there anything else you wished to speak with me about?"

"No, but do not go anywhere. I expect the first of our guests shall be arriving any minute. Where is that sister of yours?" Jahaelis craned his neck, trying to see around the glass doors toward the foyer.

"Still getting dressed no doubt." Rosarin reached for her water. "It takes time and effort to put together a lady, Jahaelis."

"As I well should know, having been married to one for more than two-and-twenty years," Jahaelis replied with a slight quirk of his mouth.

"Here I am!"

Awenis came dancing into the room in a swirl of sheer pink skirts and silver birds. Her long corn-silk hair had been curled and loosely pinned back, leaving most of it free to cascade down to the small of her back in a shower of ringlets. Tyene hurried into the drawing room on her niece's heels just as a crunching of hooves and carriage wheels on gravel came through the open windows.

"And not a moment too soon," Rosarin exclaimed, waving to her servant. "Paulet, come help me take this mask off, and hurry!"

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The greeting line was always Jatheryn's least favorite part of any social event. With Lord Jalborn placed first, all members of the Saurivic family waited to greet each and every one of their guests at the front entrance. Jahaelis and Rosarin arranged themselves immediately after Jalborn, followed by Jatheryn and Awenis. Behind them came Tyene, her husband Randir, and their children, Myles and Taevrin. Pleasantries were exchanged, along with the traditional Vaelonese greeting, a touch of two fingers to their own lips, then to the fingertips of the other person.

It was the same as ever—a polite nod of the head, a few inane comments about the weather or politics, and then, right on cue, the slight hesitation to touch Jatheryn's offered fingertips. He was a Saurivic though, as well as a member of the hosting family. Even if they may not want to, the guests had no choice but to complete the greeting as propriety dictated. It was almost an hour of postured agony for Jatheryn.

A brief happiness came when the Shakian family arrived. A middle-status family, the head of the Shakians greeted Lord Jalborn with a deep, respectful bow. It was the middle daughter of the family, Hadriel Shakian, who brought a shy smile to Jatheryn's chalky face.

Exquisitely beautiful, tall and slender with honey blonde hair down to her waist and blue-grey eyes that seemed to see the very thoughts in others' minds, Hadriel held the interest of more than a few highborn young men in Vaelona. She greeted Jatheryn with a curtsey and a courtly smile, her cool fingers meeting his for an instant before moving on to Awenis. Jatheryn held her peach-colored gown in the corner of his gaze for as long as possible without ignoring the next person he was supposed to be greeting.

As per custom, it was not until the evening was nearly in full swing that the other two ruling families of Vaelona arrived. Gilded carriage wheels crunching over the gravel of the estate drive, the Iralar family arrived mere moments ahead of the Tremaris family. Grooms opened the carriage doors and accepted the reins of the horses from their drivers. No courtesy was missed when it came to these guests.

Gendrew Iralar greeted Jalborn with a hearty handshake before remembering himself and offering the formal greeting. Jatheryn liked the loud, boisterous head of the Iralar family.

Gendrew's daughter, Gwynnis, was married to King Mahir, a fact which infinitely increased the Iralars' status among the nobility. The king and his Vaelonese queen had a young son together, and it was widely rumored that Lady Gwynnis was with child again. Even with all this prestige to his family's name, Gendrew never looked down his nose at people, unlike Marielle Tremaris.

His thick grey mustache looking more like a living creature than ever, Gendrew greeted the Saurivic family with gusto.

"Good to see you again, Jalborn. Stars, you're getting shorter every time we meet these days!"

"No doubt you are stealing my height to add widthwise onto your waist, Gendrew," Jalborn said glibly.

The head of the Iralar family let out a guffaw that echoed off of the painted ceilings. He greeted Jahaelis and Rosarin with equal enthusiasm, wringing genuine smiles out of both of them. The other members of the Iralar clan were somewhat less boisterous, but followed their head's charismatic example.

When Gendrew reached Jatheryn and Awenis, he didn't hesitate to touch fingertips with either of them.

"The last time I saw you was at your Coming of Age, Jatheryn," Gendrew said, stroking his mustache. "No doubt you'll still be recovering from that party!" He winked exaggeratedly. "I still remember the headache I had after my own Coming of Age."

"If only your body still remembered your measurements from those days," Gendrew's wife, Alais, commented with a droll smirk from behind her husband.

"I could scarcely forget such a painful reminder." Jatheryn lied easily, feigning a wince and a chuckle. No doubt old Gendrew had been taken out on the town for his Coming of Age decades ago by a large posse of similarly boisterous young men. Jatheryn wondered briefly what it would be like to go out and get horribly drunk, surrounded by other youths his age and welcomed as one of their own.

"And young Awenis, is that you? Amenthis' beard girl, you get more grown up by the year, to say nothing of your cousins!"

Taevrin and Myles grinned and bowed, both immensely pleased at an opportunity to show off their dramatically increasing heights and first mustache hairs. Tyene was no less proud of an opportunity to show off her sons. They were, after all, the "healthy" progeny of the Saurivic family. Still, Jatheryn was the eldest child of Jalborn's eldest child. The leadership of the Saurivics would pass through Jahaelis to him one day, barring unforeseen circumstances. Trying to keep that in mind, Jatheryn squared his shoulders and steeled himself to greet one last family...the Tremaris family.

One of the oldest and wealthiest families in Vaelona, second only to the Saurivics for ancestry, the Tremaris's were famous patrons of the musical arts throughout the city. Their head, Marielle Tremaris sparkled like a chandelier with sapphires, amethysts, and diamonds. They were sewn into her gown, woven into her iron-grey hair, even pierced into the lobes of her ears. Jalborn greeted Marielle with a respectful bow.

"It is so good to see you here tonight, Lady Marielle." Jalborn touched his fingertips to his lips first, initiating the greeting.

"And you, Lord Jalborn." Marielle echoed the gesture, her chin angled upward haughtily. "Your gardens are looking lovely tonight."

"No doubt thanks to those fine southern lilacs you sent to us last summer," Jalborn demurred, a rare thing from the elder patriarch.

Marielle was well known to be a terrible gossip. The only difference between her and the old women on the city's park benches was that Lady Tremaris' word carried weight among the social hierarchy of Vaelona. Nobody wanted to be on her bad side. Those unfortunates who found themselves there usually fell victim to some vicious rumor or other within the month.

Jahaelis and Rosarin spoke with equally as much respect as Jalborn when they greeted Marielle, although Rosarin was somewhat shorter with her words than usual. After Rosarin's illness and subsequent disfigurement, a rumor had made the rounds that the sickness had been venereal in nature. The source was never confirmed, but Rosarin was a smart woman.

Smiling and greeting Lady Marielle was like trying to swallow a live spider with a straight face. Jatheryn was well-practiced in the art of ingenuous emotions though. He managed to survive the exchange without being on the receiving end of one of Marielle's famous hidden insults. After all, he had endured enough of those over his twenty years to have become impervious to veiled mockery. Still, he was the heir to the Saurivic family, and there was only so much that words could do to him.

The rest of the Tremaris family were not quite as acerbic as their head, and finally the greeting line came to an end. It was held up slightly when Darenel Tremaris, the youngest son of the Tremaris family, lingered over his exchange with Awenis. A sharp look from his great aunt called Darenel further into the house though, and at last Jatheryn found himself free. He may have promised not to leave the party, but he could at least find some camouflage among the guests now.

Everyone gathered in the ballroom of the Saurivic estate, and as the light faded outside, lanterns of red, orange, and yellow glass were lit. The ballroom became cast in a warm glow which made the golden goblets being carried around on servants' trays seem even shinier. A septet of musicians set bow to string in one corner, filling the space with the sweet music of harps, viols, and cellos. Everywhere there were noblemen and noblewomen, their jewels sparkling hotly in the aurous light. A hundred different perfumes mingled together, creating a heady bouquet.

Finding an empty chair against the far wall, Jatheryn settled into it and prepared to occupy that spot for the remainder of the evening. Soon there would be dancing, and that would at least be entertaining to watch. Unable to resist, he let his pale eyes flicker from fact to face, scanning for Hadriel Shakian.

A sudden movement beside him caught Jatheryn's wandering gaze. Lord Jalborn claimed the empty seat next to Jatheryn's and offered his grandson a glass of wine. Taking the fine crystal in hand, Jatheryn smiled and nodded in thanks.

"I hear you'll be staying with us for the entirety of the evening tonight, Grandson," Jalborn remarked casually, eyes sliding sideways to peer at Jatheryn.

"I... They told you about that, did they?"

"Yes, and I must admit to being glad of your promise." Jalborn took a sip of his wine. "It is nice to have a fellow cotton-top to sit on the sidelines with."

Somehow when his grandfather teased him about his unusual looks it never felt like an attack. Grimacing sheepishly, Jatheryn smoothed the top of his white hair. It was true; his and Jalborn's heads matched.

"You've always been an old soul, Jatheryn. In a kinder world you might have been called beautiful for that."

Surprised, Jatheryn frowned with his wine glass halfway to his mouth.

"What makes you say that?"

Jalborn half smiled, his old blue eyes sad. "I see how you look at the room, at gatherings of people. Don't resign yourself to a life alone just yet. You're too young for thinking yourself without a future." Leaning forward, Jalborn jerked his chin toward a figure in the crowd. "Your father asked you to make Kendris Farakirn's acquaintance tonight. Well, there she is. Why don't you go and introduce yourself?"

Jatheryn squirmed. He had just caught sight of Hadriel across the room. The grey-eyed Shakian girl was talking with two other noblewomen and laughing about something. She was even more beautiful when she laughed, if that were even possible.

"Well?"

"Well...it's just that..."

Kendris Farakirn was very plain, bordering on dumpy. Her bottle-green gown was brand new and suited her very well, but she was still quite plump just the same. Even the elaborate styling of her thin brown hair did little to enhance the girl's looks. Kendris was standing beside the crystal punch bowel, sweeping the room anxiously with her eyes as the first chord of a dancing song rang out.

"She does not want to be judged for her appearance any more than you do," Jalborn said sternly. "Talk to her, and you may find that you have more to talk about than just the color of her dress or the style of your shoes."

Abashed, Jatheryn nodded. "I will try, Grandfather, in a little bit. I would like to watch a dance or two first though."

Seemingly satisfied that Jatheryn had at least agreed to try, Jalborn leaned back comfortably in his chair and took another drink of his wine. Sitting in companionable silence with his grandfather, Jatheryn tried to pick out Hadriel again. Failing that, he searched for Awenis among the crowd.

He spotted Awenis at length through a gap in the dancers in the center of the ballroom. The whiteness of her skin setting her apart from the rest, Awenis danced like a snowflake in a storm of color. Her partner was Darenel Tremaris. The blue of the young nobleman's tunic against the pale rose of Awenis' gown was easy to spot. Awenis' tiny fingers clutched at Darenel's hand as he turned her, and the silver birds on her shoulders sparkled. She said something as the dance brought them back together, and Darenel laughed.

Glad to see his sister enjoying herself, Jatheryn sipped at his wine. The music was incredible, and he amused himself by guessing at the time signature and key of each song. The viol player made a subtle mistake that he thought no one had noticed, and Jatheryn smiled to himself. Next to him, Jalborn chatted with other heads of families, allowing Jatheryn to join or not join each conversation as he chose. He forgot all about Kendris Farakirn.

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