Chapter 11: First Snow

It snowed all day.

By the First Snow Ball it lay a hand deep on the palace steps.

The courtyard outside the ballroom was ringed with torches.

They had set a post in the middle of it, with an iron ring.

Ianthe could see it through the tall windows from where she stood.

She hadn't slept.

She was wearing dark red velvet the Dowager had sent round in a box.

The note said, "His mother's. She'd want it worn to something awful."

"Chin up," the Dowager said beside her. "They can smell it when you look at the floor."

"I'm not looking at the floor. I'm looking at the post."

"Look at the Prince instead. He's much easier to hate."

People were staring.

The cheat, they were saying behind their fans. The wolf girl. The one with the glass pearls.

Orlian came across the floor with his banker's daughter on his arm.

He had brought a folded paper.

"It's snowing, Ianthe," he said pleasantly. "In case you hadn't noticed."

"I noticed."

"The bailiffs come at noon tomorrow." He handed her the paper. "The harp will be in my betrothed's music room by supper."

Ianthe took the paper and didn't open it.

"Thank you, Orlian. You've always been very thorough."

The music stopped.

At the top of the room the Crown Prince stood up, holding a glass.

"Friends! It's snowing, and my hunt is unfinished. Morcaine, where's my wolf?"

Every head turned.

The Marquess of Morcaine stepped forward from the wall.

There was a muscle going in his jaw that Ianthe had never seen before.

"I'm afraid I have sad news, Your Highness," he said. "The beast died in the night. Its wound went bad."

The ballroom laughed.

Somebody near Ianthe said, "The wolf girl's a widow!"

The laughter got louder.

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