Two spoiled nobles squabble over the proper use of magic in the shadow of a war. Ettael and Setua might just be my favorite couple, from childhood antagonists to very adult arguers. TUS is a novel about responsibility, about unwanted gifts and the annoyingly redemptive power of loyalty built on common ground.
This is the childhood project for which I wrote a conlang, for which I wrote a thousand years of political maps. I like to think that TUS, the only completed project from that setting, manages to wobble upright on its own.
Excerpt
Some time later Ettael sauntered back into her personal space. His voice was pitched to carry. “I’ve sadly neglected you, my lady. Will you give me the pleasure of one last dance before we retire?”
For a moment Setua wanted to throw his request in his face. But it was late, the music was gentle, and she was feeling generous, so she settled for a firm shake of the head.
Ettael’s smarmy smile fell away. “Please,” he said quietly.
Damn him for threatening to make a scene. Painfully aware of her hostesses’ stares, she accepted his outstretched hand.
“May I confess something?” he asked once they were well onto the floor.
Curiosity traced a wary circle in her mind, then stampeded over sense. “You may.”
“You’re the only woman here who can really dance. I would’ve gone mad stumbling through another song with the others.”
“I’m pleased to be of some use.”
“I mean it. It’s a pleasure.”
“Thank you.” The acknowledgement came easily to her lips, even with such an insincere partner as Ettael.
“You’ve got that look,” he said.
“What?”
“That look you had some years ago, just before you grabbed the lead and backed me into the fountain in your courtyard. Remember?”
Not only did she remember; the memory of that triumph lit up a smile. “As I recall, you deserved it.”
“I’m sure I don’t remember what I said. But just now you looked like you were considering further violence upon my person.”
“It would be a satisfying end to the evening.”
“Not for me,” he said plaintively.
Recollection slowly followed her first emotional flush. “It was my debut. You hadn’t ruined anything yet, that night, but I hated that you were invited. Then you came right up to me and you were just such a boor.”
He nodded, but his eyes were far away. “You had some sort of jewels in your hair. Some green thing set in gold.”
Had she? If he remembered she must have, and she knew what it must be. “Emeralds.”
“Is that what they were.” His gaze returned to her face with a queer intensity. “I remember, they flashed like fire whenever you moved. It suited you. You were all fire and music that day.” Unexpectedly he spun her away, stepped around, took her back. “You always have been.”
From him this was deeply suspect behavior. “You’re uncommonly flattering tonight.” He didn’t say anything.
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