A Brother's Price

sight of the whirling dancers, then, hooking her arm with his, led him down the stairs, murmuring, “We’ve got the blood of Queens in us. We’re just as good as they are.”
    Corelle and Summer trailed wordlessly behind, Summer wide-eyed and Corelle looking sour, as if it all was putting a bad taste in her mouth.
    Behind them, Barnes announced loudly, “Miss Eldest Whistler, Master Jerin Whistler, Misses Summer and Corelle Whistler.”
    A handful of women turned at the announcement, glancing up at the Whistlers as they descended the stairs. The women’s gazes flicked over Eldest, then settled on Jerin and stayed. In ones and twos, others glanced their direction and didn’t look away, until dozens of eyes were focused on him.
    “They’re staring,” Jerin whispered.
    Eldest tightened her grip on him. “Of course they are. You’re beautiful. Smile. It’s not like they’re going to eat you.”
    “How can you be sure?”
    “I’ll rip the heart out of anyone that lifts a fork to you,” Eldest said so only he could hear, all the while giving a tight smile to those looking in their direction.
    “Holy Mothers!” Summer gasped. “Cullen!”
    Jerin missed Cullen at first, expecting to see the boy that climbed in through his window. After a minute of futilely scanning the crowd, he realized that the young man standing demurely behind Eldest Moorland was Cullen. His muddy blond hair had been dyed to a deep rich honey, interwoven with strands of gem-encrusted gold threads, and gathered in loose falls by green silk bows. Eyes down, head slightly bowed, hands clasped before him, his clothes falling in elegant unwrinkled lines, it seemed as if all of what was Cullen had been stripped away and a soulless doll stood in his place.
    Then Cullen lifted his head slightly to peep around, noticed Eldest Moorland was distracted, and saw them watching. He made a face, sticking out his tongue and rolling his eyes, then ducked his head again. His fingers, though, wiggled, indicating that they should join him.
    “Scamp,” Eldest Whistler’s tight grin relaxed into a true smile. “Let’s rescue him from his family.”
    “Ah, a husband raid,” Jerin whispered. “What us Whistlers do best.”
    Eldest Moorland greeted them with a nod. “Whistler.”
    Cullen flashed a grin at them and then returned to his demure mask.
    “Moorland.” Eldest Whistler started the social dance. It had been explained to them that by protocol, any woman that wanted to speak to a man had to talk first to his sister. Cullen and Lylia had gone over the accept-able topics for the conversation, and the length needed prior to addressing the brother.
    Luckily, there were no limits set on conversation between men.
    “What happened to you?” Jerin whispered to Cullen.
    “Eldest heard about our walk in the garden and gave me a blistering with her tongue.” Cullen whispered back. “She called me a Dru Hightower. Ha!”
    “A what?”
    Cullen risked glancing up to scan the room, then pointed out an elegant-looking young man, slightly older than the two of them. “In the east corner, in white—as if wrapping dirt up in clean linen could save face.”
    “He was caught kissing a girl?”
    “Worse. He was caught tumbling his betrothed wives’ servants during the betrothal period. It was a huge scandal—not that anyone really blamed him. His betrothed are all bloated toads, warts and all, but his betrothal contract had been signed, his brother’s price paid, so his betrothed had possession of him and everything. All the deal needed was the wedding—and a massive one had been planned. His betrothed hauled him back to his sisters and demanded a repayment.”
    “Did they get it?”
    “Of course. Damaged goods! No way to prove he was clean before the betrothal, and certainly they didn’t want to risk infecting the whole family. They say that one of the servants had been to a crib and caught something other than a baby. They say on his first night with one of his actual betrothed, his Eldest wife discovered sores all over his you-know-what.”
    “Really?”
    Cullen shrugged. “Who knows? People start making stuff up after a while.”
    “I didn’t know wives could demand a repayment.”
    “Happens all the time.”
    Eldest Whistler turned to Cullen. “Your sister has given me permission for this dance.” She held out her hand, palm up. Cullen brightened and reached out to rest his fingertips on hers. They went out onto the dance floor, where