The Shape-Changer's Wife by Sharon Shinn Page A

What have I done to offend you?”
    He heard the words but it took him a moment to sort them out and even longer to respond. This girl he had admired just a moment ago suddenly seemed to him shallow and formless, constructed of meaningless bright pastels and breathy laughter. Against Lilith’s darkness, she shone too metallic; against Lilith’s stark beauty, she was as insubstantial as water.
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    SOMEHOW HE MADE it through the meal. If Mirette’s continued light laughter was any gauge, his sudden conversion was not noticeable, and indeed he struggled to keep up an appearance of gaiety. He wished he had not been so successful, however, when the woman on his left turned to him as the meal ended.
    â€œTonight we have dancing,” she said. “Faren loves to show off his ballroom. You must excuse my forwardness on the grounds that I am so much older than you, and tell me please if you would be willing to lead me out for the first waltz?”
    He had wanted to make his way immediately to Lilith’s side, but courtesy forbade him to refuse his dinner partner. “I would be delighted,” he said. “You anticipated my own request.”
    Mirette could hear every word; there was no help for it. “And you, most lovely lady,” he said, hoping he disguised the effort it took to speak so lightly. “Would you honor me with the second dance?”
    She gave him her pretty sideways smile. “I would. Thank you very much for saving me the trouble of asking.”
    In a relaxed, disorderly fashion, the guests rose to their feet and strolled to the ballroom, then stood around gossiping as the orchestra members worked together to find a common pitch. Lilith somehow was on the opposite side of the room, alone, her back resting against the painted marble wall. She stood absolutely motionless, her eyes fixed on some point halfway across the ballroom floor. Her hands were behind her back, as if she crushed them between the wall and her body to keep herself from reaching or gesturing. Her face, tilted slightly downward, showed no expression that Aubrey could read. People brushed by her and did not see her; no one spoke to her at all.
    Aubrey almost started across the room to her side, but just then the music began. His promised partner took his arm. “Ah, ‘The Dance of the Naiads,’ ” she said, naming the piece for him. “It is one of my favorites. I feel certain you are an excellent dancer.”
    In fact, he had only average skills, but this woman was so good, his own deficiencies were unnoticeable. Mirette, too, proved to be a flawless dancer, one who had moreover perfected the art of flirting with her partner without missing a step. He hoped he did not disappoint her. He answered most of her sallies wholly at random, and paid compliments so pallid as to be worthless, or so extravagant as to be completely incredible. Nonetheless, when their dance ended, she honored him with a smile and a deep curtsey.
    â€œPerhaps later in the evening—?” she began, and paused delicately.
    â€œI will live for the hour,” Aubrey said, bowing. Her hand was still gently clasping his when three young men elbowed each other out of the way to present themselves to Mirette as possible partners, and Aubrey escaped.
    Lilith. Where was Lilith?
    When he saw her, he endured his second profound shock of the night. She was dancing with her husband; his arms were twined tightly around her green silk-covered waist, and her hands rested languidly upon his thin shoulders. Her face was turned into his chest, but Glyrenden’s expression was plain to read: exultant, possessive, enamored. Aubrey turned away, sick with an unexpected emotion. He had, how odd, forgotten that Lilith had a husband, and that her husband loved her.
    Nevertheless, there was no one else in the crowd of one hundred with whom he cared to speak or dance. Like Lilith before him, he found a convenient, empty stretch