“I apologise, Your Highness,” he said.“My dear Sir August,” the princess smiled, “I cannot find fault with your behaviour.”The conde’s eyes bugged at this sting from his promised, but she smiled sweetly.“Lady Carter, may I ask the pleasure of your company for a few moments?”“Certainly,” Harriet responded, rising from her chair.Tony and the prince stood immediately, but the conde mulled the issue for a moment before he, too, rose. Perhaps it was the look Tony had cast at him. He had felt annoyance at the rudeness of this so-called nobleman and without him being aware of it he had fixated the Spaniard with a stare that had obviously conveyed a message. Once Harriet and the princess had left, there was a strained silence. Tony broke it.“Your Excellency, Captain, I hope that I shall not have to witness another such undignified outburst. His Majesty’s Secretary for Foreign Affairs has assured me that we are allies in the fight against the Corsican usurper. I must ask both of you not to. Ana strolled up to Azhnia, and greeted her with a theatrical show of familiar amiability. She could see Azhnia's eyes examine her from eyeliner to high heels: clearly disturbed by the blatancy of her appearance. Ana had never seen a woman dressed like Azhnia before: the nearest to her in appearance was Zabba when not at work, but Zabba's appearance was still within the parameters of dress acceptable in the City of Blad. Azhnia's appearance was no more confrontational than Zabba's but it suggested a self-confidence rare in Alif women.Ana sat next to Azhnia, who stared at her. When she spoke, her voice was somehow more languid and relaxed than normal for Alif; and the vowels appeared contorted and tortured to her ears. Nobody could ever mistake Azhnia as a native to Alif however fluently she spoke the same language. "Well, Ana, isn't it? How're you hanging? 'Sreal neat to see ya. 'N' this's where you work? 'Sreal weird! Quite freaky, in fact. You guys're in the weirdest setup I could.
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