"Seems word gets around..." Sarah said giving her brother a look "I did say masks where a bad idea..."

Marcus chuckled " Careful you may be talking to the king now and just insulted him."

"I don't think so...I know voices..."

"Ah dear sister we are being rude talking amongst ourselves"

Marcus turned to the man that greeted them "Do forgive us good sir and lady I am Marcus Morgane Knight of the Scarlet Order and This.." he gestures toward his sister "is my lovely sister Sarah High Priestess and Commander of the Scarlet order."

Sarah nods then speaks " My brother does love his titles...Now I must ask who it is we have the honor of speaking too?"

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"You speak as if I'd care. You misjudge me," Beron said, feigning indignation. "Of course I think of you dancing.... You seem like the dancing type. If you wish, we can dance here or I can show you the garden. It is bare, but life is slowly returning. Or you can show me how to really dance here. Tonight, I do not much care about the opinion of those around me." He said and despite the mask, the look on Evneglina's face was clear.: Shock. How bold he'd become all of a sudden? She shook her head. It was the mask. He felt more relaxed now that he wore a mask. Her eyes cut to the King thne back to Beron. That seemed to be a thing with these Northern men it seemed, with the exception of the Prince, but truth be told, he was sick, he didin't need to hide anyhting if he didn't think he'd live long enough to see the consquences of transparency.

"Unfortunately, I do care, I need no more looks of contempt among these people, and while I won't change the way I dress, dancing that way, would cause more problems then it would be worth." She said. "However, I like this bold approach of yours, you are typically so genteel, I will dance with you, you're way." She said. "I'll allow your gamble to pay off." She said with a smile. "But only this once." She said and allowed him to lead her to the floor. A sneaky thought crossed her mind then and she wondered how the King would feel of her dancing in her native ways? What would that do?

Tamiera enjoyed seeing the contempt flash across Jordane’s eyes. She knew Jordane stayed only because he felt honor bound to her. She thought honor to be a ridiculous and archaic emotion. Lucky for her she had none, and even luckier men like Jordane felt compelled by their sense of honor. “The sickly prince?” she pouted and shook her head. “No, unfortunately that ripe peach has already been plucked. It’s a shame really, I think he would have been a good husband to me.” And by good, she meant easy to dispose of. It wouldn’t have been hard to induce a high fever to take Lelinus’ life after she was secured in her position. No, that opportunity had already passed her by.

“Don’t you think I would make a great queen?” the question was rhetorical and it was the only evidence of her schemes. She watched as the herald disappeared and waited patiently. It wasn’t long before he had returned.

“His Majesty extends his welcome and bid I show you to the ball.” The herald bowed and Tamiera slid a grin to her fact much like a cat who caught a mouse. She allowed Jordane to help her dismount the steps of the carriage. She curled her fingers around his firm bicep and the two ascended the stairs and were led through the great entry hall towards a grand ballroom.

There was a swirl of color and an animal kingdom’s worth of masks packed into the grand room. “Now behave, won’t you?” her nails dug lightly through his sleeve. “We need to make a good impression,” her lashes fluttered behind her mask and her eyes scanned the crowd for the king.

~~~

Tyr took the slippers from her hands and slid them onto her feet. She felt his fingers brush against the sensitive skin of her ankle and a pleasant tingle shot up through her leg and into her spine. She felt regret as he pulled his hand away and then mentally admonished herself for such foolish and dangerous thoughts. Tyr had never expressed interest in her before now. Things hadn’t changed between them. They were nothing more than the close friends they had been since they were children.

She laughed a bit uncomfortably and looked down at the gown. “It’s too much, and I feel a bit like a stuffed duck,” she sighed. “Brynjar requested I wear it tonight.” She bit her lip at her slip. She wished she hadn’t mentioned Brynjar. She knew the tension that was rife between the two royal men. Tyr had extended his hand to her and she quickly dispelled thoughts of the tyrant king and slipped her small hand into his larger one. She could feel the callouses from his years of sword wielding and horseback riding. They were rough but she took comfort in them. “I never thanked you for helping me with my burns after the fire.” She spoke quietly as they left her rooms and made their way to the masque. “Actually, I’m quite glad you came to escort me. I’ve only just realized I may stick out like a sore thumb if I walked in looking like this without anyone at my side. You’ve done me a great favor,” her eyes glinted teasingly. “How could I ever repay you?” while she was trying to joke with him there was a serious edge to her words.

They entered in through the doors together and even with Tyr at her side several eyes swiveled their way and it made her feel gawky and uncomfortable.

~~~

Brynjar was pleased to see that the masquerade was in full swing as he had entered. He saw people twirling in dance with the music while others were clustered together in small groups around the edge of the ballroom floor. His eyes scanned the room trying to locate a particular person but his attention was cut short.

“Lady Tamiera,” he greeted with a polite smile as the widow approached with a strapping young buck at her side. Brynjar knew the woman liked to keep a prized pet and it seemed this poor sap was her latest model. “It is good to see you, I was surprised when my herald said you had arrived. It has been a very long time since you have been in court.”

“Indeed it has my king, and I had missed it greatly.” She curtsied politely to him. “I must say I was rather offended when I hadn’t received a personal invitation from you.” Her signature pout fell to her cherry lips.

“To my last recollection you were in a mourning state over her late husband.” Brynjar responded diplomatically.

“That is true, I must say I have the worst luck in finding young and abled husbands. These old men can’t really hold up very well with my own youth.” She laughed and waved her free hand quite ignoring Jordane at her side though she kept one firm grip.

“Come now Lady Tamiera, a woman such as yourself should not have a difficult time finding a husband who can keep you with you.”

Lady Tamiera was about to respond when Brynjar’s eyes were drawn away. She frowned as the attention was diverted from her and she followed his gaze. His eyes had settled hungrily upon a fresh arrival. Lady Tamiera narrowed her eyes and her jaw stiffened to see the swan princess step into the room. Her eyes darted to Brynjar and he seemed to be calculating.

Brynjar watched as Elska arrived though she wasn’t alone. He felt frustrated to see her already escorted by another and it didn’t take much deduction to discover who her companion was. Brynjar knew his time was running out. The secret glances the two were exchanging were evidence of something more and Brynjar had to put a stop to it.

“Excuse me Lady Tamiera,” he bowed to the woman and left without another word leaving the woman offended and frustrated.

“How terribly rude of him.” She huffed. “Who is that gaudy woman anyway?” she whined in Jordane’s ear as they watched Brynjar approach.

Brynjar reached the two who had only enough time to move out of the walkway. Elska’s eyes widened behind the blue steel mask but she offered a pretty curtsy.

“Your Majesty,” her head was lowered.

“You look more radiant than I had expected, I am pleased to see you took me up on my offer.” His words were less of a compliment towards her and more of a jab to Tyr who stood solidly at her side.

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“Don’t you think I would make a great queen?” She asked and Jordane said nothing. She didn't want an answer to that question, espeically not from him. Heavens help them all, if she became Queen. Thankfully, the herald returned granting them entry and he was spared having to listen to anymore. Something sharp pinched his skin and he looked down at his arm. Her nails.. “Now behave, won’t you?” He glared. “We need to make a good impression,” He rolled his eyes to that as they entered.

Before long, they were approached by the King himself. Jordane kept quiet, listening idly, scanning the room for exits should they need one, and knowing her, there was a good chance they would need to make a hasty retreat. His eyes noticed a dark skinned woman in a butterfly mask and wondered how she ended up here. He hadn't seen such a color in these parts.
Just then he heard the Lady say. “That is true, I must say I have the worst luck in finding young and abled husbands. These old men can’t really hold up very well with my own youth.”Jordane fought the urge to roll his eyes. He used to kill bad men for a living and even then it was never an easy thing to talk about let alone laugh about. How could something so vile dwell within such a lovely package? She was like one of those poisonous flowers. Beautiful but fatal.

They went on for a while before the King's eyes found a woman who while breathtaking looked mighty uncomfortable. His eyes went to his lady and he smirked. She hated not being the center of attention and hated it even more, when attention was taken from her. “How terribly rude of him.” She huffed like a child. “Who is that gaudy woman anyway?” She asked with a whine and Jordane chuckled. He had to admit, he was enjoying this. "Your rival, it seems." He told her then what she said registered. "Gaudy?" He asked, and gestured to her mess of a dress. He knew nothing of fashion, but she looked as if she gotten tangled in tulle.

"Yes, I suppose you are right. Forgive me." He told her. Though a servant, Beorn was still rather privileged compared to many others in the palace. Thanks to his affiliation with Lelinus and the church, he was shielded from most people who would happily squash him for any perceived slight against them, but Evangelina was both a woman and a foreigner. He sometimes forgot what that meant.

"Our ways are not so bad," he continued, placing a hand around her waist and leading her on to the ballroom floor as the music played. He smiled brightly as new notes joined the melody and in a sudden movement, he brought her into a slight dip before bringing her back up and giving her an apologetic look.

"Sorry, I should have warned you."



"Oh, this is a surprise. I had only been jesting. I am Lelinus Augustus, Prince of Byrdain and this is Princess Ingrid Jorvikdatter, Princess of Fjellborg and Byrdain, my lovely wife," he told them. It was better that he should put her heritage front and center rather than dancing around it. Knights, real knights, appreciated honesty.

"I am happy that you have decided to visit the capital. The court is awash with your legend. I hope that you may see the fruits of your labor in the this time of peace ahead," he told them with a smile. It was a calculated probe. If this priestess was willing to leave the war with Fjellborg in the past, then she could be a valuable ally indeed. She'd have to see Brynjar for what he was, however. A virtuous knight would not brook rebellion. Not without just cause.