Alaras' relative silence had Basren vascillating between wondering if he'd been lying, if he really was upset with Basren after all, and knowing that he was likely lying low, parsing out how things with Sovele were going to go. Sovele had not called on him the whole time. What mood would he be in? Even if Sovele eyed Alaras the whole time, would he call Basren to him at the end of the night, press his displeasure and his jealousy into him as a reminder?<br/><br/>But when Alara finally arrived, and he really<i>did </i>look fine, Basren attention narrowed down. As much as he couldn't afford to rile Sovele's temper, neither could he fuck up with Alaras like the week before. He was determined not to upset him again. He would be cheerful and attentive and he would help wipe the awkwardness from Alaras' interactions, so that no one would question why Sovele was foisting Basren off onto someone destined to go back to a backwoods estate, no matter their high content.<br/><br/>The flowers he'd sent ahead were all bundled up in Alaras' hands. Basren could still smell the drift of cold air from the enchanted box on his hands, the soft greenery bright and fresh.<br/><br/>"They're for you," Basren said, with a small smile. "I'll get a pin. They'll look lovely on your vest."<br/><br/>He didn't have to turn far. He'd been waiting for Alaras to arrive, and the pin set was on his receiving table. It was a simple, round metal brooch with a line across it like a buckle. He had Alaras stand still while he carefully threaded the stems through, trimmed them, tweaked their placement, and then pinned it into his vest.<br/><br/>No one would deny that Alaras was handsome. He would be the talk of the gala even before he made his intentions known to everyone. Basren flushed a little, even though anxiety leaked through to his stomach. Whatever was to come tonight, he could keep this moment. His suitor in his foyer, Basren's hands against the fabric of his vest, the scent of the flowers in the short space between them.<br/><br/>He nearly missed what Alaras was saying. Keeping each other occupied.<br/><br/>"Yes," Basren said, careful not to break out into too wide of a grin. He didn't need to look drunkenly happy in front of the whole court. "I--I can lead us, if you'd rather."<br/><br/>There was no need to sort it out then. Basren's thoughts were all on the dancefloor, about the moment when the third waltz would strike up, and Alaras offered his hand. Court would be watching. Basren had had plenty of dance partners, and never Sovele except once or twice on his birthday, but they'd been careful. Tonight, there was no caution of that.<br/><br/>He said, "I'm ready."<br/><br/>It would've been unseemly to arrive together if anyone had known what was planned. But everyone knew of Alaras' arrival to court, and Sovele had charged him with befriending him. Anyone with spies likely knew.<br/><br/>Basren tried not to sink into a daze. The royal carriage was filled with soft cushions, the velvet curtains drawn and spelled lights winking in the corners. The gravel of the road rolled away under the wheels as they left the palace. Basren could tell the shift, drawing them closer to the gala, when hooves echoed on cobblestone.<br/><br/>He babbled. About the garden, mostly, and the plant that Alaras had brought with him when they'd first met. He'd repotted it and it was doing well, and for a moment, they just chatted about plants. It was safe, and a little bit lovely. No one Basren knew liked to talk about his plants except the gardeners. They weren't his equals.<br/><br/>The sound of the road shifted back to gravel, the ringed driveway clogged with arrivals to the Duchess Rialt's party. They sat in the carriage while Basren's thoughts crowded in, choking his voice off until his slow, careful way of speaking had drifted to a halt. He fumbled at the buttons on Alaras' sleeve, attaching the dance card, and then attaching his own. The ink from the three claimed waltzes glinted in the light, black gilded in soft, risen amber.<br/><br/>Rialt's chateau was not the palace, but the grounds were extensive as befitted her station. She was Sovele's relation from a second son not far long off, and it showed. Beautiful sandstone gleamed like honey in warm light. The servants who handed them down were professional, courteous. Basren ignored his lightheaded as they made their way inside.<br/><br/>They were announced separate of one another, of course. When Basren stepped between the big doors, his name boomed out to the ballroom below, everyone seemed to take note. Basren, arriving before the royal family, without them.<br/><br/>He stepped down the plush carpet of the stairs, wound his way to a quiet corner, and waited. No one else was going to ask him for a dance. Their waltzes weren't until after the royal family arrived, and they were always last to arrive. Basren had nothing but the placid calm plastered over his face and the anxiety rippling underneath.<br/><br/>Was Sovele wondering where he was? Would he show his face at all, when he knew that Alaras was declaring his intentions?<br/><br/>A whore and a healthy child. He would come, wouldn't he?<br/><br/>Basren tried to catch Alaras' eye in the crowd. No one would introduce themselves without someone being able to introduce him. The ballroom could hold five hundred, the biggest outside the palace. The floors were black marble, studded with silver, polished like a glassy, star-filled lake. The colonnades above them were stark white in contrast, and it made Basren feel like he was floating.<br/><br/>He drifted over to take Alaras' arm, and immediately they were converged on. Everyone knew Basren. He could make introductions, and he began as many as he thought Alaras could stand, until they were begging off for wine for talking so much.<br/><br/>Just as Basren lifted crystal into Alaras' hand, the king's name called out over them all. Basren's gaze was drawn, along with everyone else's, to the king. He evened his breath as Sovele descended the stairs, and kept his ground next to Alaras, even though everything was screaming in him for distance. Sovele would finally meet Alaras, and Basren would do his best to be worthy.<br/><br/>"You don't have to speak," Basren said quickly, under his breath where only Alaras could hear, "unless he directs questions at you. I can talk to him instead, if you prefer. Leave it to me."