Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 245
and close her eyes briefly. She wants to recover her poise, he
thought.
His friends huddled together. "Let’s meet her!" "Lavin,
shall we?"
"We shall not!" He said it a bit too loudly, and she
looked up, her eyes widening just a bit. For the first time
Lavin had realized she might have come to rest here because
his was the only group of people at the ball near her own age.
Everyone else was middle-aged or older, a fact that had been
making Lavin’s group squirm.
So he smiled, and bowed to her, and said, "We shall not
meet the princess. If she wishes, the princess will meet us."
She smiled. Galas was willowy, with large dark eyes and
a determined thrust to her chin. She held herself well in her
formal ball dress; Lavin envied her such poise. But she was of
royal blood, after all. He was merely noble.
His companions had frozen like rabbits caught in a
garden. Lavin was about to step forward, say something else
ingenuous (although he seemed to have exhausted his
cleverness with that one statement) when suddenly Galas was
surrounded by courtiers. They had rushed, without seeming to
rush, around the edge of the dance floor, and homed in on her
like falcons.
Galas became caught in a tangle of clever opening lines.
They led her, without seeming to lead her, away to the lunch
tables. Lavin stared after her, not heeding decorum.
When they had almost reached the tables, she turned and
glanced back. At him.
He would always remember that moment, how happy he
had been. Something had begun.
Harsh shouts ahead. Lavin opened his eyes. Hesty had
led them to a deep gash in one of the hills near the city. Here,