Alia had been hanging back, watching. This type of social interaction was strange and new to her, so unlike the balls, and grandeur of her palace life. But music... music she understood.

When Matt finished she could not help but clap feeling a strange kinship to the lyrics, but the instrument enthralled her. So like a baliset, and yet... not, for a moment, her mind flashed away to Arakkis, listening to Gurney play in those quite evenings in the seitch, but her whiteless yes remained fixated on both Matt, and his guitar.