It was midsummer, and Petrea still felt unsettled in her position as Second of Cereus House. Aliks had named her in early spring, and yet still she did not feel secure. To be sure, she had worked hard to put on a good face for the House, meeting with other Dowaynes and Seconds, as Aliks buried herself in paperwork and ledgers, meetings and politics. Petrea met with patrons and arranged assignations for adepts. But there were things that were holding her back. One of which was Aimée.
Petrea suspected that Aimée had hoped, at least in some small way, to be named Second. She and Aliks were romantically involved, so it wouldn’t have surprised Petrea for Aliks to name Aimée to the position. Even if the relationship wasn’t exactly common knowledge, and senior adepts weren’t supposed to be emotionally involved with subordinates. Aimée was responsible, organized, and logically minded. The younger adepts trusted her. She had all of the qualities that Petrea feared she did not. Yet, Aimée was quite young. Many years younger than both Aliks and Petrea, and Petrea suspected this was the reasoning behind Aliks’s decision. But Petrea knew that, as much as the decision made sense, and as much Aimée understood the decision in that logical mind of hers, it would still have hurt. And Petrea felt a deep sense of empathy for her. And perhaps even some guilt. Was she truly suited for the position? Could she honestly say that she was up to the task of Second of Cereus House? It was a heavy mantle. Could she wear it? Would young Aimée have been the better choice?
It was on a hot and damp afternoon that Petrea finally decided she was finished navel-gazing over this. She had been lying on the wood floor of her new apartments, wearing only a dressing gown, furiously fanning herself in a desperate attempt to cool off and failing miserably. Lying on the floor and wallowing in self pity would resolve nothing. It was time to gather her wits and actually speak with Aimée. Petrea had often seen Aimée walk in the large gardens behind the house, so she decided to find her there and talk things out.
After a quick bath, Petrea made her way through the gardens to the tall shade trees. The temperature felt significantly lower, and Petrea began to understand why Aimée felt comfort here. It was a tranquil and protected space, far from the oft chaotic life inside their home. After walking for several minutes, she found Aimée sitting on the lip of one of the fountains, dangling her feet in the water.
“Aimée?” Petrea approached slowly, as one might do a frightened animal.
Aimée jumped up, startled. “Oh! Petrea! I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you approach.”
“Oh! No! I apologize. I didn’t mean to scare you. I know you often come to the gardens, and I thought that, well, I had hoped that we could speak, in private—” She gestured to the large, imposing Cereus House behind them. “—in a less formal place, perhaps away from prying eyes and ears, and be more plain with one another?”
Aimée looked at Petrea and gracefully made a welcoming gesture to the space beside her. Her face had subtly slipped into the perfected mask every senior Cereus adept cultivated. Petrea felt a small twinge of disappointment at the shift in demeanor. She had hoped that Aimée would be more comfortable in the botanical sanctuary.
Petrea sat down on the edge of the fountain and trailed her fingers through the cool water, watching the ripples lap at the stone. “I can see why you came here today. This water feels lovely.” Petrea shook off her shoes and gathered her skirts, tucking them under her lap. She plunged her feet into the water and sighed. “That feels incredible.”
A small hint of a smile teased at the corner of Aimée’s mouth as she replied. “It’s the best respite from the heat. One would have to go to Balm House to find anywhere more refreshing for the body or soothing to the soul than this little corner of Cereus.” Her shoulders loosened almost imperceptively. And she turned to gaze at the fountain and the garden beyond.
After a moment of silence, Petrea cleared her throat and began speaking. “Aimée, I feel as though things between us are tense, to put it mildly, and I don’t like that. I feel that, well, I feel that you may resent me for being chosen as Second when you were not. I want you to know that I firmly believe that I would have been just as happy if you were chosen.”
Aimée’s head snapped toward Petrea; her face had lost its trained air of nothingness. Petrea couldn’t quite decipher the meaning painted upon her features. A mix of shock, defensiveness, anger, hurt…all emotions that Petrea watched pool into a general upset of Aimée’s practiced air. In a second, Aimée forced a roll into her shoulders and several deep soothing breaths in and out her lungs. Petrea waited as Aimee tried to reclaim some of calm. “Petrea…if I have done anything to give you the impression that I am anything other than genuinely pleased for you, I apologize. I always knew that Aliks would choose you for the role. There was no question in my mind that you would be her Second,” Aimée stated. Then quieter, in almost a whisper, “But I did, very briefly, hope.”
Petrea saw Aimee’s posture soften, like a huge weight had been lifted with the admission.
It was then that Petrea finally felt she could share. “I often feel as though you would be a better Second than I am. That the House would be better served if you were leading it.” She spoke her fears in the same hushed tones they had once used to share midnight secrets in the novice dormitory. She locked eyes with Aimée, needing the other woman to understand the seriousness of her next words. Her voice was strong. “I am sorry, Aimée. I think that perhaps I should have told Aliks no and pushed her to name you.”
“What!?” Aimée gasped. “You are more than qualified, you have the skill, the connections, the years of service…”
Petrea swung her feet out of the fountain, using the momentum to swivel her body to face the opposite way and placing her feet firmly on the garden path. She stood and began pacing. She dug a bare toe into the dirt and shook her head before interjecting. “But, Aimée, don’t you see? I am missing things! Aliks spent years being groomed to be Second, while I was nothing but an adept. We all knew she would be Second and then Dowayne. But me? This was a surprise to everyone, myself included! And I know nothing of leadership. For certain, I can pour wine and play the lyre. I know that I am a favorite among several patrons! But I was never trained to be Second! Or, Blessed Elua forbid, Dowayne! I have signed my own assignation contracts, but I do not know how to write them! Patrons are coming to me to negotiate for adepts’ time—what do I know of that? What do I know of drawing other Houses to allyship?” Petrea slumped back against a tree trunk, falling to the ground, giving no care for dirtying her fine clothes. “My days are filled with tasks I know nothing of. My only…my only escape is my time with Santiago.” She smiled sadly.
“I know. Sometimes I see you more often returning from Orchis House than from your office.” Aimée teased. She immediately realized her attempt at levity had the opposite effect.
Petrea’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Precisely. You see, I am failing,” she said in a quiet voice. “It feels as though no matter how many tasks I complete, there is always another. And I know, I know, that I am missing things. I know that there are happenings in the House that I know nothing of.”
Aimée removed herself from the fountain and walked to Petrea to sit with her under the tree. Aimée waited until Petrea looked toward her. “I will be honest with you, things are falling through the cracks. The younger adepts and novices are coming to me to put out spot fires. By the time you smell the wisps of smoke, the proverbial fire has been doused. Sometimes it’s been out for hours or even days.” Petrea sunk into herself. She knew the situation had been bad, but it was somehow worse than she had anticipated. “Every time you leave for Orchis, yes, you have completed your formal tasks, but there are a thousand unwritten responsibilities and unexpected problems that need to be handled.”
A deep sense of shame filled Petrea’s chest, and she felt blood rise to her face. “And a good Second would know these things,” she whispered, unable to meet Aimée’s eyes. She had been right. Aimée did resent her. Aimee was taking care of all of these responsibilities that she was not. Aimee knew all of these things. And she did not.
“I understand now why you resent me so. Here I am, off at Orchis House while you are stuck here cleaning up behind me. I am so sorry, Aimée. I should have known these things. I should have been more aware.” Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked hard to keep them from falling.
“That…This…” Aimee’s arm made an all encompassing movement. “Is. Not. Your. Fault. And I have never resented you,” she stated emphatically. “The plague has caused nothing but chaos. The Court, the City, Terre d’Ange itself is struggling to reorganize and bring back some order. Aliks is completely absorbed with her duties as the First and Foremost Dowayne of the Night Court, the Council to House Courcel, and any House responsibilities that absolutely require Dowayne,” Aimée laid out. “You are not handling the responsibilities of merely a Second. You are dealing with more than half of the responsibilities of a Dowayne and all the requirements of a Second. All while the kingdom is recovering from one of the most destructive plagues in our history.” Aimée sighed. “And you have not been trained for either position. I wouldn’t have known what to watch out for had I not been…” Aimée nearly trailed off into silence. “…with Aliks.” She shyly summed up.
Petrea looked at Aimée, her eyes wild and desperate. “Will you help me? Please. Please, help me. I know the topmost bricks, but you are the expert in the building blocks. You know everything that happens within the walls of the House, and I know that I can talk my way through political meetings and afternoon teas. Aliks was left with mountains of backlogged papers to sift through and piles of scrolls to read, most from before Dowayne Geraunt’s passing. It’s so much. So much…it’s too much. Everything is falling to the Second.” Petrea shrugged and gave Aimée a wry look. “Perhaps—together—we would make a superior Second?”
Aimée gently took Petrea’s hand between her own. “Do you remember when I first entered Cereus? I was a scared little reject from Bryony House. ‘All of the talent, none of the passion.’ They only sent me here because my looks matched the canon of Cereus House. I was certain Cereus wouldn’t keep me either. You held me as I cried those first nights. You told me, ‘All Loveliness Fades, but what doesn’t fade is our bonds to each other. We are desert flowers. We survive.’ Cereus House is my family. You are my sister. You always were; you always will be.”
Petrea threw her arms around her friend. “Thank you, Aimée,” she said quietly into Aimée’s hair. “You cannot know how much your love and support mean to me.” Her voice grew firm as she clutched her friend. “We will do this together. Together we will rise.”