Petrea nó Cereus stood in front of the full length mirror as an adept of Eglantine House busied himself around her with fabric and bric-a-brac, sketching and stitching the beginnings of her costume for this year’s Midwinter Masque. She frowned at the mirror, unhappy with her reflection. She was getting on in the years, the beauty of her youth seeming to fade faster and faster every day. But wasn’t that almost the point of Cereus House – for one’s beauty to fade? How was that supposed to be something to be admired? Petrea sighed. How had she ever risen to Second of the most glorious and noble House of the Night Court with thoughts like that?
Outside the room, Petrea could hear adepts gossiping in low tones. Of course, no one could stop talking about the affair between the Dauphin and Odilia nó Dahlia, and certainly not in the Night Court. The mood in Cereus House seemed to be one of the biggest topics of discussion and whether or not the Prince choosing a Dahlia was seen as a slight to the oldest and most noble House. Petrea shook her head and absently stroked the Eglantine adept’s head. Did people really think that the Prince had purposely fallen in love with Odilia out of spite? The social politics of the Night Court – and noble Court, for that matter – drove her practically to madness at times. But gossip as thou wilt was practically a second tenet of the City, so she could not ignore it, lest she look foolish to her patrons and bring dishonor to her House.
Turning her thoughts back to the grand plans for the Masque, Petrea reminded herself to make sure her private invitations had been delivered. The position of Second did allow her certain privileges and she didn’t hesitate to take advantage of them when it suited her. It had been a difficult year and she planned to enjoy every moment of the Longest Night.
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