Sophia made her way back through the palace, trying to look more confident than she felt.
From what she'd seen of the noble girls around there so far, they never admitted to a single moment of uncertainty.
It helped that she could see the crowds starting to form, drifting through the castle with a cluster of others. She caught some of the looks they gave her, and for a moment or two, she was worried they saw through her disguise.
When one of the older women came up to her, Sophia was sure that they would unmask her, and send her back to the orphanage. Her talent gave her some reassurance.
"Welcome," the older woman said, offering her hand. "I am Lady Olive Casterston."
"Sophia… of Meinhalt," Sophia said, taking the woman's hand, remembering both her adopted voice and name just in time. "I'm very pleased to meet you."
Sophia stretched her talents out as she talked, reading what she could from the woman. She didn't seem suspicious. If anything, she seemed determined to be friendly.
They chattered about nothing and Sophia used it as a moment to keep reading the room.
"Forgive me if my habits are not what you are used to," Sophia said. "Things are… very different here, I think."
"I hope not too different," Lady Olive said. "But I suppose, with the war… oh, you poor thing. Were you caught up in all that? Come on, come with me. I'll introduce you to people. Sir Jeffrey, this is Sophia of Meinhalt, you simply must meet her."
Just like that, Sophia found herself meeting a string of people so quickly that it was impossible to keep track of who was who.
Lady Olive stayed with her for the first few, presenting a picture of a girl fleeing from the wars on the continent that meant Sophia never had to tell an outright lie, just… let people go on thinking what they were thinking.
She knew what they were thinking, of course, and her powers were the only reason she kept afloat in the sea of people she had to meet.
They let her get glimpses of what these people expected, and catch fragments of information that let them think she had at least heard about the politics of Ashton.
She let the tide of people she simply had to meet carry her to the ballroom, and there, Sophia had to fight back the urge to gasp at the sheer spectacle of it all.
"Is everything all right, dear?" a retired officer asked her, clearly hoping for a chance to be gallant. Obviously, she hadn't done such a good job of disguising her shock at it all.
How could she, though? Every wall of the ballroom was mirrored, the mirrors surrounded by golden frames.
The floor was a masterpiece of inlaid wood, forming a map of the known world that even contained some of the discovered lands beyond the ocean.
There were chandeliers above that looked as though they held a thousand candles between them, while a trio of gold-clad musicians occupied a small space to one side.
There was no space on the walls for paintings, but the architects had made up for it with a fresco above them in the modern style, making it look as though the ballroom opened out onto some great pastoral landscape.
"Miss?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Sophia assured him. "It's just that I never thought I would see an occasion like this… again." Sophia of Meinhalt would have attended such things before, of course.
"Thank you for asking, though."
There was no dancing yet. Instead, those attending ate quails' eggs and wine-poached apples, drank delicate wines from goblets or took them over to what appeared to be a small fountain in one corner, flowing with the deep red of it.
Mostly, though, they appeared to jockey for position like folk at a market looking for the best bargains, or like armies seeking the highest ground.
Perhaps both, because there certainly seemed to be a little of each thing in the room. The fragments of thought Sophia grasped made it clear that there was more than just dancing going on.
How did the Earl of Charlke afford the new house he's talking about?
Will my daughter find a husband tonight? She's nearly twenty!>
Sophia had held an image of things like this as stately, graceful affairs, but the flickering thoughts of those around her made it clear just how much was going on beneath the surface.
It seemed as though every gesture, every word, was a part of some greater game of position and advancement. Everyone there seemed to be attending because they wanted something, even if it was just to show the power and position they already possessed.
There was grace there, though. Some of the girls there looked as elegant as swans in their costumes, while everyone seemed to have done their best with their outfits and their masks.
It was the kind of occasion that somewhere else might have made everyone anonymous, but here served more to show off their taste and their ability to afford the finest things.
Or steal them, in Sophia's case.
She glided through the room with delicate steps, listening to both the gossip that the nobles traded among themselves and the deeper layer beneath it that they only thought.
She heard rumors about which men and women had lost at cards or betting on horses, alongside deeper worries from those who suspected that this time they might not be able to pay their debts.
She heard the stories of affairs and infidelities, and her talent let her pick out the ones that were true from the ones that were being spread deliberately to cause trouble.
Perhaps if she'd been a different kind of person, Sophia might have tried to make her fortune by dealing in those secrets.
That wasn't what she wanted, though. She wanted to be happy, not hated. She wanted to be a part of this place, not a predator on its edges. She wanted to be more than just the gift that she had.
That meant finding a more permanent way to connect to this court. It meant finding a husband here!
Sophia swallowed at the thought of that. It was a big commitment to make, and put like that, it sounded incredibly mercenary. Yet, was it any worse than the nobles standing around trying to make good marriages with one another, or for their offspring?
It was definitely better than being indentured, whatever happened.
And, in one way, Sophia had an advantage over the others there: she could at least see what kind of people the men around her really were.
She could look deep into them and see that the upright man to her left had a streak of cruelty to him, or spot the young man thinking about the courtesan he would visit again tonight.
Sophia looked around the room, felt the eyes on her, felt the hopes of some of the men who glanced her way. Some of them felt predatory, like wolves circling a deer. Some clearly wanted to use her and discard her.
There was one young man wearing a sun mask and cloth of gold costume that only served to emphasize the handsome lines of his features. He stood at the center of a clutch of hangers-on, and Sophia knew even before she glanced through their thoughts that this was Rupert, the dowager's eldest son and heir to the realm.
A glance at his thoughts made Sophia look away. To him, she was nothing more than a piece of meat. Worse, beneath that joking façade, there was a touch of violence.
Sophia had heard that Prince Rupert was a fine soldier who liked to train alongside the other noble officers. There was more than that, though, and it was enough to make Sophia certain that she didn't want to go near him.
She started to concentrate on looking for the nobleman Cora had recommended: Phillipe van Anter. But trying to pick one specific person out of a masked crowd was difficult, even with a talent such as hers.
She looked at a tall young man with hair as red as hers. No, it wasn't him. Nor was it a man dressed in a harlequin costume or one who thought that his military uniform made a perfectly good costume.
She turned and froze in place as she saw a young man on the edge of the crowds there. He was richly dressed, in a costume that seemed to evoke the flowing water and shifting weather of the island kingdom. He wore a gray and silver tunic over a blue shirt and hose, with lightly jeweled boots that somehow managed to be elegant rather than overstated.
The mask hid half his face, but even with it, Sophia could see that he was handsome. He didn't have the hard edges of some of the soldiers in the room, but he still seemed strong and athletic.
He wasn't one of those leering at her, or at the other young women in the room. Sophia caught none of the sense of violence from him that she'd gotten from Prince Rupert, and none of the problems that she'd seen in so many other thoughts there.
There was something quiet about him, almost peaceful.
That wasn't how Sophia felt, though. She could feel herself breathing faster at the sight of him, and her eyes stayed locked to him as he moved around the room.
It was only as a man bowed low in front of him that she picked up the one thing she hadn't realized: This was Prince Sebastian, younger son of the dowager. Not the one who would ever inherit, but still far more than she could ever hope for.
Sophia started to look away, but found her gaze drawn back to him as if she couldn't stop it. On the way there, she caught sight of Lady D'Angelica and her friends, and even if she hadn't been able to read her thoughts, Sophia would have seen the hungry look the noblewoman gave the prince.
When she did look at Angelica's thoughts, Sophia froze.
Sophia made her way toward the other girl through the chattering crowd. Sophia saw her touch a pouch set at her waist.
Sophia could guess at her plan now. Angelica was planning to give Prince Sebastian some kind of sedative, then go out of the hall on his arm. She was going to trick him into bed with her, regardless of his wishes.
That intercepted thought pushed Sophia over the edge. She had to stop this. She snuck up close behind the other girl, using her talent the way she'd used it to steal on the street, watching for the moment Angelica's attention wandered, and then reaching out as calmly as waving a fan to snatch the bag from her belt.
Sophia could have thrown the sedative away, but right then, she felt that the noblewoman deserved more than that—for what she'd been like with Cora, if nothing else.
Sophia took a glass of wine, quietly adding some of the powder within and stirring it into the drink. She moved close to Angelica again, watching for the instant when she would set down her wine for a moment on one of the small tables around the room.
It was a matter of a few seconds at most, but Sophia had been waiting for it, and that made it easy to switch the wine. She walked away, sipping Angelica's drink, while the young noblewoman drank from the one Sophia had doctored.
It took a while to see any effect. For a minute or two, in fact, Sophia wasn't sure that she'd managed to do anything at all. Then she saw Angelica sway slightly, swatting away the attempt by one of her friends to help.
Sophia saw her grab at her belt, searching for the now missing pouch. Angelica stumbled then, and this time one of her cronies did catch her.
She looked as though she wanted to fight, or argue, but the whole coterie of them quickly swept her from the room, presumably looking for somewhere to rest.
Sophia smiled to herself at the thought that the other girl was getting what she deserved. She looked over at Sebastian.
Now for the part that she deserved.
Because the truth was, there was no one else in the room she had eyes for but him.