Really, of all the times for her family to send her a note asking for a visit, it had to be in the days leading up to the Longest Night when she was up to her eyes in final preparations for Valerian House. There were costumes that still needed to be fitted and finished, face paints to be purchased, ribbons replaced on masks, this was entirely too inconvenient.
But they were her family and she loved them dearly so she had the carriage summoned, her cloak brought, and she was on her way across the city to the Noble District within the hour.
The Baphinol footman opened the carriage door and helped her step down onto the street outside the Baphinol family townhouse, greeting her courteously, “Lady Rosanna, welcome. You are expected.”
“Thank you,” she said, pulling her cloak tighter around her to guard against the winter chill in the air.
The steward was ready at the door to take her cloak and usher her inside to the warmth. The floors and ceiling were done in the same rich, warm wood and the walls were artfully decorated with tapestries for the winter. In the warmer months, the tapestries were put away to reveal the beautiful frescoes that decorated the walls. Maybe she should make use of the house to host a private summer salon. She could consider that later.
Now, there was the beaming smile of her mother to contend with as Comtesse Marie-Celeste Baphinol swept down the hall toward her youngest daughter, enveloping her in a hug, “Rosanna, my darling! Thank you for coming to visit.”
“Of course, Mother,” Rosanna said, returning her mother’s embrace, “I needed the break from the Longest Night preparations.”
“Yes, you must tell us how that is going,” her mother said, steering her up the stairs, “Your father is in the library, he wanted a chat first before we have some time together as a family.”
The Comte’s library was on the first story, the doors were of dark wood carved with trees and flowers to remind the family of the country estates while they stayed in the city. The Comtesse gestured to the servants to open the doors and ushered her daughter inside where the Comte Gilles Baphinol was waiting, standing behind his desk.
He looked up when the doors opened and smiled at his youngest daughter, “Rosanna. Thank you for coming.”
The man seated at the chair by the pink marble fireplace turned, the sunlight from the window glinting on his light hair and his Courcel blue eyes.
“Your Majesty!” She dropped into a deep curtsy as gracefully as she could.
“Please rise, Lady Baphinol,” King Gustav de la Courcel said, rising from his seat, “and accept my apology.”
What was happening? The King was here? She hadn’t seen his carriage or any royal guards. Why was he here?
She rose from her curtsy and clasped her hands before her to stop herself from twisting her fingers in her nerves at suddenly being confronted with the King of Terre D’Ange.
“Your Majesty,” Gilles bowed to him, “please feel free to use the library for as long as you need. My lady wife and I will be in the family salon down the hall.”
“Thank you again for your generosity, Comte Baphinol,” Gustav said, inclining his bare head to the older man. Gilles took his wife’s hand and paused only to give his daughter a comforting squeeze of her shoulder and kiss on her cheek before he and Marie-Celeste withdrew, closing the doors behind them.
Alone with the King, Rosanna pulled on all of her training in the Night Court to keep her composure, waiting quietly to follow his lead in whatever this was.
“Please,” Gustav gestured to the seat across from him, “Relax and be comfortable. I am not here as the King but as simply Gustav. And I wanted to speak to you, Rosanna.”
Just Rosanna, not her title or her honorific as Dowayne, just her given name. She was more confused than ever as she crossed the space between them to lower herself onto the seat with a graceful swish of her skirts. “How can I assist Your Majesty?”
The King resumed his seat as well once she was comfortable, looking at her with those steady blue eyes. He smoothed his hands along the arms of the chair before he said, “Odilia told me once that you were friends.”
“I would like to think that hasn’t changed, my King.”
“I’m…concerned. For her. I had hoped to get your insight as her friend and perhaps request your help.”
“What troubles you, Your Majesty?”
His gaze slid to the fire in the grate, the metal screen set before it to catch the cinders wrought with twisting flowers to create the protective netting. His fingers toyed with the edge of the upholstery on his chair as he considered how he wanted to say this, “She is….a strong woman. I admire her fortitude greatly and I have never known her to have a temper.”
Rosanna could agree with that, Odilia was not a woman prone to outbursts of passion. That was more the Valerian’s type of expression. But there was a hesitancy in how he said it that caught her attention.
“Has something happened that would call that into question, Your Majesty?”
“No,” he said softly, “But I cannot deny that something has changed between us. We always knew that my coronation would change things, would mean that the responsibilities of the throne would take me away from her, more than either of us wanted. But she was always ready when I found time, she never refused me…”
“She’s refused you?” Rosanna was shocked at the thought. Not just because he was the King and to refuse the King was a dangerous game, but because she had thought there was something real blossoming between her friend and this man. Odilia had seemed much happier once he came into her life, there were more smiles and there was more light around her. What could have happened to so change her friend’s demeanor?
“I do not know if she has refused me,” Gustav said sadly. “I have sent her gifts and letters and she hasn’t sent them back, but she also hasn’t replied to them. I understand that the Court of Night Blooming Flowers is making preparations for the Longest Night Masque, I appreciate that this is a busy time for all of the Servants of Naamah. But…something does not feel right. I may still be young but I have worn my crown long enough to have learned to trust my instincts. And they are telling me that something is wrong.”
She hesitated before venturing, “Your Majesty….these women that have come to the palace…”
He groaned, “I know. It’s a nightmare.”
“Were you the one to tell her what was happening?”
His eyes dropped to his lap, “No. I did not want to make it seem that I was informing her to set her aside. I asked a close, mutual friend of ours to send her word and make it clear to her that my feelings have not changed.”
Rosanna was desperately curious to know what those feelings were, exactly, but she wouldn’t press. That sort of thing was private and she had a guess about what they could be based on the way the King spoke, the angle of his eyes, and the softness in his voice.
“The arrival of the ladies has been a source of gossip across the city for weeks and weeks,” Rosanna said carefully, trying to be gentle in what she was trying to say, “It could be that the news reached her before the message did. Regardless of how the message was worded, if she heard the whispers first and if the whispers were unkind…she might have gotten another impression.”
He nodded, “That is what I am guessing has happened. For her to so suddenly cut contact without an explanation? Something has gone wrong and I…I would ask you, as her friend, to see what she needs? I’m not asking you to spy on her, but she’s your friend and I want to make this right. I just….I don’t know how. And I’m worried that if she is hurt by what she heard…”
He shifted in his seat slightly, “She is clever. And she is very dangerous in many ways. If she chose to make a bold move…I am all too aware of the kind of damage she could do if she decided to listen to her heart instead of her head.”
How well he knew Odilia, Rosanna thought. And he was right. With that chessboard of hers, she was very dangerous. Surely the other nobles saw it too, and surely it was one of the reasons they were throwing women at the King to try to lessen Odilia’s influence over him and lessen some of her power. Perhaps they were right to be wary, she couldn’t deny that there had been something different about Odilia the few times they had crossed each other. She hadn’t thought anything about it at the time, all of Mont Nuit was stressed over the Longest Night, she had thought that Odilia had just been as overwhelmed and overworked as she was and had put it out of her mind. But now…now she wondered.
“I will see what I can do, Your Majesty,” she promised him, tucking her red hair behind her ear. “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that, hopefully it’s just a misunderstanding that we can clear up.”
But she knew there was the potential for so much worse. If Odilia really was hurt by what had happened, by whatever she had heard and however she viewed his efforts to reach out…Rosanna knew well that hurt people had the potential to cause the most hurt in return.
Please, she prayed silently as the King kissed her hand, Please, Naamah and Eisheth. Please let her make the smart, compassionate choice.
*
The page in the Dahlia livery made his way swiftly between the seats and sections of the Dahlia Salon, coming to the high-backed chair where the Second was currently entertaining Lady Corrian de Borlean again. He gave a crisp bow to the ladies before bending down to whisper in Odilia’s ear.
She listened, her brow lifting slightly before holding out her hand. The page slipped a tiny scroll into her palm and she unrolled it to read the words scrawled there.
Let them see.
The tiniest smile played about her lips and she nodded, more to herself than anything, slipping the scroll into her sleeve before returning her attention to the page, “Show him in.”
“Here, my lady?”
“Here.”
He bowed and withdrew. Moments later, he returned, accompanied by a servant in the Ducal Chalasse livery bearing an exquisitely carved wooden box. Whispers followed him as adepts and guests alike turned their heads to watch his path through the salon, eyes on him and on the Second that he stopped before.
He dropped to one knee beside her and said to her, “My lady Second, His Grace the Duc of L’Agnace presents you with this gift as a token from him to you.”
A token, yes, Odilia mused as she ran her fingers over the lid of the polished wooden box. A token of what, well that was anyone’s guess. By the evening meal tonight, there would be any number of rumors flying around about what happened right here and right now. She would not disappoint.
She lifted the lid of the box and it seemed half the salon was craning to see what was inside. Even Corrian leaned forward, seeing the rich brown velvet and wanting to know what it was hiding.
Odilia reached inside the box, her fingers delicately lifting the necklace from where it lay. It had been many years since she had been a jeweller’s daughter, but she could still see how exquisite a piece this was. White pearls in a gold setting, and a bold, gleaming, golden topaz right at the center. She held it up to examine the setting and the jewels and she saw more than heard the whispers, watching out of her periphery as heads turned to companions, as lips moved, as hands and fans lifted to try to disguise the gossiping.
And she smiled, “Inform His Grace that he honors me with this gift. I am delighted to accept it.”
Jocaste watched her Second from across the salon. Odilia, what are you doing?