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rarified atmosphere of Highton intrigue herself. If Corbal thought he could trifle with her, he would soon discover otherwise.
    She wondered at his white hair. Many Aristos would do away with that sign of age, believing it marred their Highton perfection. But others thought the white accented Corbal’s authoritative presence. Tarquine took a tendril of her own hair and wound it around her finger. White threaded the black. Although she had considered having it treated, she had decided to leave it for now, to augment her aura of experience, a reminder that she was no untried youth but a force to deal with. Or so she let others believe. And it was true. But her hair hadn’t turned white because of age.
    Had Corbal’s whitened for the same reason as hers? She would probably never know; if he was hiding a secret as dire as her own, he would certainly never reveal it to her.
    Tarquine looked around at her guests. Most were watching the broadcast, but a few had remained in alcoves or shadowed corners, enjoying themselves with the providers she had made available tonight. An atmosphere of sensuality overlaid the dimly lit banquet hall as the night receded into its latest hours. If not for the broadcast, most everyone would have been asleep by now.
    She was the only Highton present; her guests were all Diamonds. As the caste involved with commerce, they were intimately tied to the economy; as Finance Minister, it behooved her to maintain profitable relations with them—and to keep abreast of whatever schemes they hatched.
    Tarquine was sitting next to Kiv Janq. Sleek black hair swept back from Kiv’s forehead, accenting the icy severity of her features. The Janq Line owned one of the largest Eubian banks and had great influence over the flow of credit throughout Eube.
    When she noticed Tarquine watching her, the banker curved her lips in a cool smile. “So. The emperor had an heir after all.”
    “Apparently so,” Tarquine said.
    “A delectable young piece, eh?”
    Tarquine held back her laugh. “I would hardly presume to call our esteemed emperor a ‘delectable young piece.’” In truth, though, Kiv had it right. Eligible young Highton women would soon be throwing themselves at this scrumptious boy, seeking to become empress. It promised to be immensely entertaining.
    Corbal Xir would undoubtedly sidetrack the young emperor with the flower of Eubian femininity. The more time Jaibriol III spent distracted by their charms, the more freedom Corbal would have to scheme. Tarquine considered the idea. Amorous pursuits might keep Jaibriol III’s attention away from finances as well. The last thing she needed was an emperor who paid attention to what she was doing. She could think of a few charming young Iquar women with political acumen. Perhaps she would send them his way and see what they could learn while they kept him diverted.
    Tarquine knew the game well. In her youth, she had fended off many ambitious Highton men bent on becoming consort to the heir of the Iquar bloodline. After she had come into her title as the head of her line, she had done her duty and accepted an arranged marriage. It had been worse than prickle-heat in the summer. She had soon sent her esteemed husband away, much to their mutual relief, and they had divorced several years later. So it was that she had no legitimate offspring. No heirs.
    She did have several children whose fathers had been her pleasure slaves. Although she had given her progeny wealth, status, and education, none could inherit her title. Long ago, she had frozen some of her eggs but she had no interest in conceiving any more children. Nor did she desire to let a cold Highton man share her title and her bed. Pah. Never again would she tie herself down that way. When she died, her title would go to her younger brother, Barthol Iquar.
    Tarquine looked down the length of her banquet hall. On the raised area at the far end, Kelric was sitting on the top step, watching the broadcast. He