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exaggerated.”
    Danilo was frankly and thoroughly puzzled. “Arilyn has been my companion for more than six years now, and apart from the debacle at the Gemstone Ball four years ago, you’ve made no real objection. Why now?”
    “Why indeed?” the woman retorted. “As a hired sword, she was more than competent, and when one hires persons with such skills, one must endure the occasional inconvenience of unexpected battle. No real harm was done at the Gemstone that year. This year is another matter entirely. Do not think I have not heard the young women sighing over your elven garden. A man does not gift mere hirelings with a fortune in sapphires and blue roses.”
    “Arilyn was never a mere hireling.”
    Cassandra sighed through clenched teeth. “Then it is true. Danilo, it is time you considered your position. You are not a lad, to waste your time with trifles and trollops.”
    It took every ounce of discipline he possessed to hold back the anger that rose in him like a flame. “Have a care, Mother,” he said softly. “There are some things I will not hear, even from you.”
    “Better you hear them from me than another. This half-elf is unworthy of your regard, and there ends the matter.”
    Danilo studied the dancers for a long moment before he could trust himself to speak. “No, it most assuredly does not, but this discussion ends now, before matters between us are beyond repair. With all respect, my lady, if you were a man, I would be obliged to call you out for such statements.”
    “If you were a man, there would be no need for this
    discussion!” she snapped. Her anger cooled as quickly as it flared. “My son, I must be frank.”
    “Imagine my astonishment,” he murmured.
    Cassandra let the comment pass. She accepted a glass of wine from a passing servant and used it to make a sweeping gesture that encompassed the sparkling throng. “Look about you. Have you never noticed that there are no elves among Waterdeep’s nobility?”
    He shrugged. “Yes? So?”
    “Perhaps you should ponder that.”
    Danilo snapped his fingers. “What about the Dezlentyr family? Corinn and Corinna are half-elven, and Corinn stands to inherit the title.”
    “The title will be challenged, of that you may be certain,” she said in a distracted tone. “These are the children of Lord Arlos’s elven wife. His first wife,” Cassandra stressed. “Do you remember the circumstances of her death?”
    A story Danilo had heard in his youth, long since forgotten, floated to the surface of his mind. “She was found dead in the garden,” he said slowly. “If I recall aright, Lord Arlos insisted that it was the work of assassins. He claimed that his enemies were loath to see races other than human introduced into the Waterdhavian nobility and that his lady’s death was the result. Surely, though, this was nothing more than the raving of a grieving man!”
    Cassandra met his eyes once more. “Was it?”
    A long moment of silence passed between them, for Danilo could think of nothing to say in the face of such absurdity. Before his wits returned, his mother glided away, and was swept up into the circle of dancers.

    Arilyn stalked down the gleaming halls, ignoring the thorns that had pierced her too-thin slippers. At the
    moment, she would have happily traded her best horse for a pair of stout, practical boots. Not only would they have saved her feet from the skyflower thorns, but they would also lend conviction to the kick she longed to deliver to Danilo’s backside.
    Whatever had come over the man? Granted, he was fond of pranks. True, he worked behind the carefully constructed façade of a shallow, silly fop. She could accept that much. Much of the time, she derived a considerable amount of secret amusement from his contrived foolishness. She had learned to look behind the jest to the intent, and usually found herself in full agreement with Danilo’s goals, if not always his methods. This stunt, however, was utterly beyond