Alana hurried down the wide stone corridor of the students' wing, clutching her books to her chest. Although she was beautiful, it was not a romantic scene. Her softly curling golden hair was pulled back in a severe braid, and her gown was plain grey Collegium garb. She was simply a schoolgirl who had lost track of time and was going to be late again. She grimaced. Master Elgan would be angry, in the scathing, sarcastic way that she hated. She never meant to make him lose his temper, but lately it seemed there was always something in her dress or demeanor to upset him.
The girl turned a corner and darted into one of the smaller schoolrooms along the hallway, the one reserved for the selected students. The others in her class were already there, three boys whom Alana had grown up with during their years in the Collegium. Master Elgan was nowhere in sight. With a sigh of relief, she slipped into her place on the bench and arranged her gown and papers, ignoring the furtive glances of her schoolmates. It seemed that for once she had been lucky.
Then the heavy door at the head of the class swung shut with a crash, and Alana realized that Master Elgan had been beside it the entire time. He stood now against the wall, leaning casually against the rough stone with one foot crossed in front of the other. He was a young man, only thirty-five, and attractive in a harsh kind of way. He fixed his pupil with an intent gaze that Alana recognized, with a sinking heart, as the precursor to a tongue-lashing. She took a breath, laid down her pen, and waited. The other three managed to find their essay-books extraordinarily fascinating.
Master Elgan strode forward slowly and paused in front of the girl. She returned his glance evenly, the twisting of a handkerchief in her lap the only sign betraying any lack of composure.
"Your mother came to see me this morning, my young countess."
"Sir?" Alana was at a loss.
"Are you aware that you turn eighteen next week?"
She blushed. "Yes, sir."
"You did not see fit to mention this to me?"
"I thought you knew, sir. It is hardly a state secret."
"No, Alana, I did not know, so keep your pertness to yourself." Elgan began slowly pacing back and forth in front of the long desk. "I had no idea, until your mother informed me that today would be your last day in class. It appears she requires you for dress fittings and social engagements for the next few days, until your presentation at court. You, and to some extent the other three louts with you, have been permitted to remain at the Collegium this long because you demonstrate some glimmerings of intelligence—but attain that crucial year, and there is no recourse. You shall be torn from the sheltering bosom of academia and thrust into the pitiless world of courtiers and courtesans. Of course, your parents fully expect, and lose no opportunity of reminding me, that in return for sacrificing two years at court, you are expected to be fit for the social life of the nobility as soon as you enter it.
"And yet, my dear child," he continued, pausing in front of the girl and raising his voice, "and yet, despite your mastery of language, despite your insight into literature and history, despite your unparalled appreciation of art, despite the intelligence approaching genius with which you taunt us every morning, you are yet incapable of arriving at a given location at a given time!"
He paused, nostrils white, and Alana looked down to avoid his scathing glare. She could not help smiling slightly to herself. Master Elgan had been her tutor since before she could remember—he had taught her to read when she was three and started her on languages when she was five. Getting a compliment from him, no matter how backhanded, was like wringing blood from a stone, so his words pleased more than they hurt.
Truly, Alana was only half-conscious of how much it meant to her when she earned her tutor's praise. She only knew that she was shamed when she disappointed him, and delighted when he cast a kind eye in her direction. She was conscious, however, of how attractive she found the man. There was plenty that went on in the dormitories that the advisors turned a blind eye to, and Alana had had her fair share of play and could recognize the excitement his presence caused. But she never voiced such thoughts, and indeed sternly repressed them, knowing that those around her would think it absurd and unwise for a countess to consider dallying with a schoolmaster.
Meanwhile, Master Elgan was still glaring at her. "I find it incredible that I suddenly have one class period in which to complete your preparation for the world of the court." He paused, drumming his fingers on her desk, then came to a decision. "In fact I do not think it even remotely possible that I could do so. Kindly compose an essay that I might conceivably enjoy reading, exploring the virtues of a social system tied to age, and deliver it to me immediately after supper. Perhaps that will shed some light on exactly how important it is that you begin to act like an adult. For now, Len, please refresh our memories as to where we left off in
Rothagan
, along with your opinion of why I assigned the reading. Try to be rather more lucid than last time."
As soon as the four were released from class, Alana took herself to the palace's vast library, avoiding her friends' invitations to lunch or bathing. Secluded in one of the library's vast, cushioned bay windows, she wove her thoughts together into a witty and engaging little essay that claimed, rather facetiously, that maturity was a biologically determined phenomenon, so that all decisions regarding a person ought to be based solely on their age, with a side-note to the effect that her words would have no influence until her eighteenth birthday, whereupon they would instantly be invested with authority. She knew that Elgan would enjoy tearing her argument to pieces, and she knew also that the cleverness of the writing made the lack of logic in the essay completely irrelevant. The countess-to-be copied it neatly onto heavy parchment, tied the whole with a ribbon, and then suddenly realized that she barely had time to dress for dinner. Again she rushed in haste through the halls, stopped at her room to change, and only caught her breath when she was finally seated among her fellow students in the dining hall.
Yet after dinner, on her way to deliver the essay, she felt obscurely pleased to be in formal wear. Master Elgan had never seen her in anything other than schoolroom clothes, and though she was sure he had never once thought of her as a woman, it would do no harm to point the fact out to him. She paused in front of an alcove with a full-length mirror and examined her appearance. Extravagant gold slippers, a present from a bachelor uncle, peeked out from beneath a full emerald skirt of velvet. The low-cut satin bodice, in emerald and cream and embroidered with gold, fit tightly and was laced over her chemise and corset at front, back, and side seams. She wore a green-and-gold band in her hair and a sash of the same material at her waist. This, she reflected contentedly, was altogether an entirely different person from the demure girl of the schoolroom. Master Elgan would be surprised—if he were in his room at all.
For the tutor kept unusual hours. He had never been in his quarters when she chanced to stop by before, according to the pageboy who took care of his clothes and boots and ran his errands. Alana really expected only to give her packet into the hands of the servant and be on her way. Thus she started back when Elgan himself opened the door of his antechamber, and the blood rushed to her cheeks as he took in her appearance. One lifted eyebrow was the only reaction she got, but it was enough to make her heart race. He had noticed.
"You are early," he said, still standing in the doorway. "What a surprise. I did not know you were capable of it."
Alana smiled. "I expect I could surprise you more often, if I put my mind to it," she said, holding out her essay. Elgan did not take it. His mouth twisted and he looked her up and down once more before saying, "Won't you come in?" Without waiting for a reply, he placed his hand on the small of her back and firmly drew her inside.
Alana had imagined that her tutor's quarters would be small, bland, and sparsely furnished. Instead she was met with a vast room that was clearly a living area, with many other doors leading off it into other rooms in the apartment. The furniture was ornately carved cherry wood and the hangings were russet and olive. Art lined the walls and curios glittered on the shelves. The room was dark, lit only by a great curlicued candlelit chandelier in the center, and by the fire on one side, around which was clustered an overstuffed sofa, several padded armchairs, and a plush ottoman. Books were everywhere, both in bookcases and piled on side tables and the floor. Alana smiled at that.
Suddenly shy in such unexpected surroundings, she paused in the middle of the room, standing on an extravagantly plush carpet and fiddling with the ribbon on her essay. Elgan moved past her to the sideboard and there was a clinking of glasses. "Wine?" he asked, and again did not wait for a response, but came up to her with two goblets and pressed one into her hand.
"Thank you, sir," Alana said. Elgan smiled.
"Come, then," he said. "Sit by me as I wade through this essay of yours. If it is not of surpassing brilliance, I shall be most upset, and you shall have to answer for it." He threw himself into one of the armchairs, one leg hanging over the side, and drew her to kneel at the cushions beside him. One of his hands rested on her head as he scowled at the pages, tossing each one to the floor as he was finished. The longer she knelt there, acutely aware of his touch, the more Alana's breathing quickened. Was this a test? Was he pushing a boundary, or simply unaware of the effect on her? Elgan appeared to be fully absorbed in the essay, but when Alana made as if to move away, he twisted his fingers into her hair to keep her by his side. Surrendering, she leaned into his hand and he began absentmindedly stroking her cheek. Part of her was appalled at her behavior, but on the whole she wanted nothing more than to see what would happen next. Master Elgan had barely ever touched her before, and now he was caressing her as though it were of no importance at all.
You're being terribly foolish
, Alana told herself sternly.
Likely this means nothing to him at all. And even if it did, you know you're being ridiculous. Flirting with the schoolmaster? You ought to be ashamed of yourself. So let him finish the essay, then make your excuses and leave. You have no business here. He is a tutor, and he is not interested in you.
She was becoming quite pleased with her self-control when Elgan's thumb brushed her lip. Her breath caught, and she guiltily realized she wouldn't have the courage to leave at all.
The last page drifted to the floor. The silence lengthened. Alana had expected either a tirade or a word of grudging compliment. Instead, he said nonchalantly,
"You can write, you know."
"I know," she said.
The silence grew uncomfortable once more, and Alana pulled herself together, determined to be responsible. She began, "I ought to be going now—"
"You're also very beautiful," Eglan interrupted, cupping her chin to lift her face to his.
Alana blushed. "Thank you, sir, but really I should—"
"You're not going anywhere at the moment," he interrupted again. In one quick motion he pulled her up and pinned her waist between his knees. "Despite your charming little essay, I am still vastly displeased with you."
"Sir?" she asked, too surprised to pull away.
"I am displeased because you are leaving my class so soon and so suddenly. It really is unconscionable of you to disappear so callously. Do you realize that after tonight I will never see you again? You will not be permitted into the Collegium, and I am hardly able to tarry in the palace proper. Yet off you go, without a word of regret." He ran his fingers through her hair. "I have you only for tonight, and let me assure you that you will not be leaving my quarters without my consent. I hope you will not mind if I take a few liberties tonight, my dear countess, but I simply cannot let you out of my life without fulfilling just a few of the many dreams that have plagued me in recent years."
Alana trembled and her entire body tingled. She found herself for once without a smart remark. "This is absurd," she protested weakly. She tried to twist away, but Master Elgan grabbed her wrists and pinioned them behind her back with one hand.
Elgan continued calmly, "I am stronger than you. You are in my quarters at night, of your own free will, in a garment calculated to make every man between here and the Pautrine Gate vastly uncomfortable. Do not think you will leave here without giving me some satisfaction."
The man was in deadly earnest and Alana tried to get her breath back. Part of her mind pointed out that she wanted this, that she would do anything he asked with pleasure, would even beg to be allowed to do anything he asked. Another part of her mind insisted that this was wrong, but at this point, it didn't seem too clear on why.
