Sourcethief (Book 3) by J.S. Morin Read Free Book Online

this a splendid party?
I'm sure it's all stale bread to you by now, but I can't get used to all this
finery," Abbiley turned about as she spoke, gawking at the surroundings.
It was the same manor that Abbiley visited regularly, just filled with wealthy
personages, extra servants, and more food and drink than usual.
    "I don't suppose that I've ever gotten used to
these affairs," Soria admitted. "It's the clothes, the dressing up
special, pretending that's what is important, trying to impress everyone else
while they try to impress you in return. Too often I spoil the effect by
failing to act snooty enough to match my dress. Everyone else wishes they could
act like normal folk too, but they all cluck their tongues like it’s some
serious offense."
    "Well, everyone has been very kind to me. If I
have been spoiling anything they have yet to mention it," Abbiley replied.
    Of course not, Soria mused. You are lowborn,
so they expect it of you. They overlook it all for the novelty.
    "I am sure you are just naturally suited to
these affairs," Soria replied. She gave a little nod to indicate she would
be continuing along to other parts of the gathering and managed to avoid
Abbiley for the remainder of the wait until the servants gathered them to the
table for dinner.
    "How are you holding up?" Brannis
whispered in Soria's ear as he pulled out her chair and helped her to her seat.
    "I played nice with your peasant girl,"
Soria whispered in reply, using Kadrin in case anyone overheard. It was a
fringe benefit of being a bit exotic; her Kheshi accent made it perfectly
plausible for her to be speaking in a foreign language in hushed conversations
at the table. It might have been considered a bit rude, but far less so than
what she had actually said.
    The conversation improved over dinner with the
mixing of the sexes. Lord Harwick in particular knew everyone, and his voice
carried the length of the table, allowing Brannis and Soria to hear him from
the far end where they were seated. Still, it was a dinner party; there was a
limit to how interesting conversation was allowed to get.
    After a fine dinner of Feru boar—imported live and
butchered just that morning—the servants came and refilled everyone's
wineglasses. Lord Harwick rose to speak, and his guests fell quiet.
    "Lords and Ladies, if I might have your
attention for just a moment." Lord Harwick paused for form's sake, since all
eyes were already turned his way. "This gathering tonight was at the
behest of my son Tomas. Lest I use up all the wind in the room first, I will
allow him the chance to speak."
    "Thank you, father," Tomas said as he rose
and Lord Harwick sat. The boyish nobleman's face was plastered with a goofy
smile as he stood for a moment, looking out over the guests. Soria looked
sidelong at Brannis. She knew he could not see what was coming. She took his
hand under the table. "Thank you, everyone, for joining us tonight. I look
out and see friends old and new, and no finer friends could a man wish for.
Thus it is before all of you as witnesses that I ask," he turned to
Abbiley, "Abbiley Tillman, would you marry me?"
    Abbiley froze, her expression blank. When the realization
dawned, she said nothing, but leapt from her seat to wrap her arms about
Tomas's neck. Tomas laughed as he recovered from his surprise and wrapped his
own arms about her waist to keep them from overbalancing and toppling to the
floor.
    Soria felt Brannis's hand tighten around hers; she
squeezed back. She knew it was Kyrus's memories making it hard on him, but also
that he had been growing to see himself and Kyrus, more and more, as the two
sides of a coin, just the way she saw Juliana. Both sides of her had been in
love with Brannis as far back as she cared to remember, but it was still new to
him, and he struggled with conflicting feelings about Abbiley. Soria hated it.
    "I shall take that as a 'yes' then?" Tomas
said, still laughing.
    "Oh yes, yes!" Abbiley gushed. There was
cheering and