When Viola caught a glimpse of herself in the tall mirrors lining the drawing room she had to look twice. That slender youth in the blue and gold uniform of the Duke's household was truly her.

She squared her shoulders and lengthened her stride toward the far end of the room. Duke Orsino stood there, the focus of his retainers as a planet was the focus of its moons.

Unlike some of the tasks that had already fallen her way in the Duke's employ, those involving tobacco, guns, or dice, waiting upon Orsino was effortless. Viola could've stood all day at his elbow, feasting her eyes on his profile, clean as that on a Roman coin, or listening to his firm but melodious voice.

The gold braid on his collar set off his tanned complexion. His crisp black hair was cut short in the new fashion that rejected the elaborate powdered wigs of an earlier generation. When his guest Captain Bassanio bowed deeply, Orsino inclined his head in a nod so gracious, so polite, it was hard for Viola to envision him leading his ships into the fire and storm of battle. Warriors of old, though, were known for their courtesy as well as for their prowess on the battlefield.

"My thanks, Captain," said Orsino, "for allowing your nephew Cesario to join my household."

Bassanio's eyes twinkled in his weathered face, but his gesture toward Viola was carefully neutral. "So young a lad needs a protector, my lord. My thanks are due to you."

"I'm sure," said Orsino, "we'll get on famously."

She almost ducked, sure that intelligent gaze would see through her disguise. But his blue eyes touched hers, light as a feather, and returned to Bassanio's guileless smile without changing their expression.

Viola didn't dare present herself in this strange land in her true female form. Her respectable name, her blameless ancestry, would count for nothing without the income to shore them up. Making her way as a man, no matter how young, was infinitely preferable to the life she'd have as a woman lacking friends, family, and dowry.

She and her brother Sebastian had planned to make a new life after their father's death in Messaline. Even though many of their father's former patients conveniently forgot how he'd treated their ailments for promises rather than payment, still they'd managed to put together a meager purse. But that purse, and, much more importantly, Sebastian himself, had been lost in the shipwreck which cast Viola, Bassanio, and handful of crew members onto the shores of Illyria.

She tightened her lips. No, she wouldn't cry for her brother, not here, not now. He was gone. She had to make her own way in the world, without a father, without a brother, without a husband.... Not that she had any objection to taking a husband when the world held men like Orsino.