Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny

couple yet.
    The bridesmaids, twenty-four beautiful young ladies of the highest good character, dressed in acres of frothy pink, had finally rebelled against the endless wedding rehearsals, and had retired to a relatively quiet corner to get loudly and ostentatiously drunk. They'd been chosen by lot, from among all the suitable young ladies of the Clans, and it was supposed to be a great honor for them. (Traditionally the bridesmaids should have come from the bride and groom's Families, but since Clan Wolfe had pretty much wiped out Clan Campbell in a very hostile takeover, not all that long ago, it had been tactfully decided by all concerned to forget that particular tradition.) When the bridesmaids had first been selected, they'd been delighted at being part of such an auspicious occasion, but that was before they'd spent days being drilled in close
    formation, to carry out the slow-motion dances, approaches, and withdrawals dictated by the Royal ceremony. The young ladies were far more used to giving orders than taking them, they hated being shouted at when they got it wrong, and their feet hurt. But they couldn't back out now, because they knew their Families would kill them if they did. But the instructor had criticized their deportment just once too often, and they were now taking comfort in bottles of champagne purloined from the kitchens, and trying to chat up the security guards. So far, none of them had weakened. Or at least, not when an officer was watching.
    If only because they, like everyone else, knew they were always under the cold, watchful gaze of Chantelle, the Mistress of Ceremonies. Chantelle got the job partly because everyone knew she'd be good at it, partly because no one else wanted it, but mostly because no one could say no to her. Chantelle had been around for what seemed like ages, not a part of any Clan or clique, but nevertheless an essential part of the social Scene. She was that particular brand of celebrity; famous for being famous. No party was complete without Chantelle, sparkling and laughing and spreading witty confusion wherever she went. Her put-downs and barbed bon mots were legendary, but you were no one until Chantelle had deigned to notice you. She was one of those mysterious people who always knew who and what was In and Out before anybody else did, and she could be merciless with overconfident arrivistes and insufficiently arrogant artists. But for all her potential venom, she was always the life and soul of every party, and the heartiest chatter and loudest laughter always come from the crowds and gatherings of which she was a part.
    Scandals followed her like so many dogged shadows, but somehow none of them ever really stuck. She'd had affairs with everyone who mattered, and as a result had
    influence in high and low places. She'd never married, never had any children (that anyone knew about), and her own family background remained a mystery, despite many determined investigations by the holo chat and gossip shows.
    Chantelle had been heard to boast that she created herself, and many believed it.
    She was tall and fashionably slender, with long honey gold hair, and her heart-shaped face wore just enough makeup to look like she didn't need any. She was dressed in full-length shimmering gold, bold enough to attract the holo cameras without being blatant enough to distract from the bride. Her eyes were an icy blue, capable of sparkling with mischief one minute, and cutting someone dead the next. Her smile was wide, her teeth perfect, and she had a laugh that could start a party all on its own. She was beautiful, graceful, droll, and everyone adored her. If they knew what was good for them. Chantelle never forgot a slight, and gloried in revenge. She was a star, and took it as personal affront if anyone sought to shine more brightly than her.
    How fitting then, that the queen of Society should be in charge of creating the new Queen of the Empire. And the King, of course.
    She bustled back and forth across the floor of the House, barking instructions, solving problems and averting crises, and bringing together opposing factions by sheer charm and charisma. Where reason didn't work and charm failed, she settled for simple intimidation. It wasn't wise to get Chantelle mad at you. She knew things. Often very embarrassing things. No one could dominate High Society for as long as Chantelle had, and not know something about absolutely everybody.
    (Her diaries were kept in a locked