“Ah…yes.” Her cheeks must be pouring out nova heat, she thought.
“Do you think you have a chance?”
There, Sula reflected, was the key question. The cadet who achieved a first—the highest score of all lieutenants’ exams given throughout the empire during a year—was almost certain to acquire a name in the service, and very possibly some patrons to go with it. She wouldn’t be dependent entirely on Lord Richard for promotion: with a first, many more doors would open to her.
“I’ve been working the practice exams and doing very well,” Sula said. “Though of course a first is, ah…well, it’s unpredictable.”
“Yes.” He knit his brows. “Well, the exams are in a mere ten days or so, correct?”
“Yes, my lord.”
He gave a modest shrug. “My offer will remain open, then. I won’t need a lieutenant in the next ten days, and if I get someone who was first in the Year 12,481, thenDauntless will only gain by the prestige.”
“I—thank you, my lord.” Gratitude still had her tripping over her tongue.
Lord Richard took her arm again and steered her for the door. “Good luck with all that, Caro—Caroline. I was never very good at exams—that’s why I was happy to take my uncle Otis’s offer of a lieutenancy.”
Sula paused in surprised contemplation at the thought of a Lord Richard who wasn’t good at something, then dismissed the thought as modesty on the captain’s part.
She and Lord Richard rejoined the reception, Lord and Lady Chen and their twenty-two guests. Terza floated toward them, looked at Sula and said, “Is it decided?”
“Lord Richard has been very kind,” Sula said.
“I’m so pleased,” Terza said, and clasped her hand.
Suddenly Sula knew that the offer of promotion had been Lady Terza’s idea.
“He’ll be able to set you on your career,” Lady Terza said.
“Well, turns out it’s a little more complicated than that,” Lord Richard said, “but Lady Sula will be set on her career one way or another, and very soon.”
Terza hesitated, then decided to smile. “Well,” she said, “that’s very good.”
Sula’s nerves gave a warning tingle as Lady Vipsania Martinez walked into sight on the arm of a exquisitely dressed man with a receding hairline. Lady’sVipsania’s eyes widened slightly as her eyes met Sula’s, then she strode toward Sula with impressive dignity, the man following in her wake.
“Lady Sula,” she said, “I’m sure you remember Sempronia’s fiancé, Lord PJ Ngeni.”
Sula didn’t remember Lord PJ at all, but she said, “Of course. Is Sempronia here?”
Melancholy touched PJ’s long face. “She’s over there.” He nodded toward a corner of the room. “With those officers.”
Sula turned to see Sempronia speaking to a pair of men in civilian suits. “They’re officers?” she asked. She didn’t recognize them.
“They’realways officers,” PJ said, his melancholy growing.
“Go and fetch her, my dear,” Vipsania advised. “I’m sure she’d like to speak to Lady Sula.”
“That’s a lovely gown,” Sula said. It was too. Some elderly seamstress had probably grown blind sewing on the thousands of beads.
“Thank you.” A look of modest concern knit Vipsania’s brows. “We’ve been sorry you haven’t been able to attend our little get-togethers.”
“I left town,” Sula said. “I was cramming for my exams.”
“Ah.” She nodded in apparent satisfaction. “It hadn’t anything to do with my brother, then.”
Sula’s heart gave a jolt. “Lord Gareth?”
“He thought he might have offended you in some way. He can be a dreadful idiot sometimes.”
“Dreadful idiot?” queried Sempronia as she arrived with PJ. “We’re talking about Gareth, I presume?”
Sula decided to set the record straight. Or straighter, anyway. “He hasn’t offended,” Sula said flatly. “And he’s quite the opposite of an idiot.”
Sempronia narrowed her hazel eyes. “I hate him,” she said. “I refuse to hear a word said on his behalf.” She smiled as she said it, but those narrowed eyes weren’t smiling.
Lord Richard seemed both amused and a little discomfitted to find himself in the midst of this family drama. “What do you have against my brother officer?” he said finally.
Sempronia gave PJ a flicker of a glance. “That’s between me and Gareth,” she said.
“Sometimes I feel as if I’m marrying into a pack of tigers,” PJ said. “I’m going to have to watch myself night and day.”
Sempronia patted his arm. “Retain that thought, my dear,” she said, “and we’ll get along fine.”
PJ adjusted the line of a lapel, then gave his collar a tweak, as if suddenly finding himself a little warm.
“Lady Sula,” Terza said in her soft voice, “Richard tells me that you’re interested in porcelain. Would you like to see some of our collection?”
“I’d love it,” Sula said, happy for Terza’s tactful shift of subject. “And I wonder,” she ventured, “if I might glance at some of the books as well.”
Terza was mildly surprised. “Oh. Those. Certainly. Why not?”
“Do you have any books,” Sula asked, “that come from old Terra?”
“Yes. But they’re in languages that no one reads anymore.”
Sula gave a contented smile. “I’ll be very happy just to look at the pictures,” she said.
The case of the missing wardroom supplies was solved when Martinez went into the wardroom that evening for a cup of coffee and found Lieutenant Captain Tarafah rummaging through the steel-lined food locker. Tarafah had just returned with the team after a day’s practice, and he was placing a couple of smoked cheeses in the hamper carried by his orderly. Martinez observed that the hamper already contained three bottles of wine and two bottles of excellent brandy.
“My lord?” Martinez asked. “May I help you?”
Tarafah looked over his shoulder at Martinez, then nodded. “You may, Lord Lieutenant Martinez.” He reached into the locker and withdrew two bottles of aged cashment. “Do you prefer the pickled or the kind soaked in vermouth?”
“The pickled, my lord.” Martinez hated the stuff and would be glad to see the last of it.
The pickled cashment went into the hamper, followed by some canned butter biscuits, purple-black caviar from Cendis, and a wedge of blue cheese. “That should do it,” Tarafah said with satisfaction, then closed the heavy doors and locked them with his captain’s key.