A Brother's Price

blades. It made him nervous and slightly dizzy to stare up at the spinning blades, and the sound was thunderous.
    It took an hour of cranking the machine before his hair was dry. He had to admit, as they combed it out, that it had never lain so silky straight before. They braided it then, in loose coils woven through with ribbons, strings of small glass beads, and tiny blue flowers.
    He was allowed tea. Apparently noblemen ran toward being heavyset—and considering how little activity they were allowed, it was small wonder. Perhaps with this in mind, someone had tried to change what had become Jerin’s normal tea to just dry muffins. Corelle sent a youngest Barnes off for a true tea with sandwiches made of chicken and a sweet pickle relish, and little cakes of sweet cream topped with fresh raspberries.
    Lastly came the tailors with his formal ball clothes. At all the fittings, they had allowed him to wear undergarments. He was dismayed when they explained that the clothes were to be worn without underclothes.
    “It’s the fashion,” the tailor murmured, carefully keeping her face averted as she held out the leggings. “With underwear on, you won’t… settle… properly into the codpiece. Just slip off your underwear, and into the leggings, and we’ll sew them shut.”
    Jerin balked. “I’ll feel naked. I’ll look naked.”
    “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but women like to see what they’re buying. You’ll be fine. All the other men will be wearing leggings just like these. I should know—we’ve made a goodly quarter of them.”
    Corelle scolded him impatiently. “Oh, Jerin, don’t be a crybaby.”
    Jerin supposed this was what Captain Tern had meant when she said their success was riding on his conduct. If he refused to wear the most fashionable clothing, it would be unlikely he’d catch the eye of a well-to-do family.
    I wish 1 could marry Ren.
    He bit his lip on that thought. No one would want to look at a boy with eyes full of tears. So he stripped out of his underwear, stepped into the leggings, and tried not to pout as they explained how to tuck himself into the codpiece’s pouch, and then sewed the fabric shut. The shirt had padded shoulders, curiously shaped sleeves that managed to leave his forearms bare while draping fabric almost to the floor, and a collar open to midchest. At least they let him wear riding boots, with cuffs that faired up around the knee.
    A slight gasp made him look up. Eldest stood in the doorway, looking stunned.
    “Holy Mothers,” Eldest finally murmured. “You’re beautiful.”
    Jerin ducked his head at the praise. “I feel like a midwinter tree with beaded strings and glittering ornaments. All that’s missing are the gingerbread angels.”
    “Jerin!” Eldest came across the room and gave him a quick hug, careful not to muss his hair or crinkle his shirt. “Don’t be a ninny.”
    “I’ve got bells on,” he said, taking a few steps to illustrate his point. The tiny bells sewn into the long sleeves rang as he walked, a faint shimmering sound.
    Eldest shook her head. “I don’t know if I should let you out of this room dressed like that.”
    “I look silly.”
    “You look sensual, beautiful, and erotic. We’ll be beating women off of you.”
    He blushed and went back to the mirror to consider his image. His reflection barely seemed to be him, but did look like someone who could command a brother’s price of four thousand crowns.
     
    He had been prepared for a fair: women in work clothes, men clustered together for the rare chance to talk to someone of their own sex, children moving like schools of minnows, all contained in a meeting hall, a tent, or a rough dance floor under the stars. Potluck dishes. Amateur musicians mostly playing together.
    He thought it would be like a country fair, just on a grander scale.
    They came down a dim hallway and out a side door to the brightly lit foyer. Stairs cascaded down in vivid red velvet into a ballroom, a shifting sea of the most beautifully dressed people he could imagine. Great crystal chandeliers hung overhead, thousands of candles setting fire to the glittering glass prisms. Every person was arrayed in silks and satins, diamonds and rubies.
    There were no children. There was no food in evidence. The few men were scattered and closely guarded. Music came from a small orchestra, in tune and on beat.
    Jerin froze at the top of the stairs, wanting to turn and escape back to their rooms.
    Eldest checked at the