A passing adept, a young man with golden hair and a mask to match, presented them with a tray of sparkling wine. Ever the hostess, and holy servant in her own right, Rosanna gestured to her guests first. Only after they made a choice did she take a glass for herself. “Will you be attending the prayer service and Showing to follow? We are presenting two of our finest in this year’s graduating class to begin their service to Naamah.”
Would the Dauphin take the opportunity? Not all who attended the party would watch or place wagers for the honor of fulfilling the first assignation of a newly minted courtesan. With so much to do, it was not required, but those who did were included in a great honor as well as a rare display of Mont Nuit’s finest connoisseurs of the sharp pleasures. There was a reason this holiday was so closely guarded, part of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers they might be, but every Valerian and Mandrake knew they…stood out. Not all D’Angelines understood them, and that was all well and good, they did not need to. However, power was power which took many forms. Perhaps the King-to-be would discover something useful this night. That was the purpose of his visit after all, and Rosanna would ensure he had every chance to experience whatever he wished.
Lord Garnet attempted to keep his face blank, then remembered he did not need to underneath his mask. When last he had stepped foot in Valerian House, it was for a Showing, too. He hadn’t known what to do, not wanting to disrespect the canon of the House, but he had not enjoyed the Valerian adept’s cries of pain as the Mandrake had flogged him. And the Mandrake…the bright smile on her face as she had given the pain was one he had tried very hard to forget. He wasn’t made for these Houses, no matter how his Lady Sapphire insisted he needed to learn how their kind of power dynamics worked so he could better accept the service of his people.
“I do not think we will participate in the prayers,” Lady Sapphire said evenly, surveying the golden-haired Valerian with a cool eye as she accepted her drink before turning her attention back to the russet-red of the masked Dowayne. “But I am quite looking forward to the Showing afterward. Which of Mandrake’s finest will be assisting in demonstrating their yielding skills?”
“That pleases me greatly,” the Dowayne replied before sipping at her bubbling wine. Her red lips wrapped almost sinfully around the fine crystal as if by second nature. “As to the Showing, a very talented courtesan will have the honor. Ives nó Mandrake will be providing his services.”
Not only was he Rosanna’s own preferred Showing partner, but he was also a dear friend. Tonight was not for them, however. She would facilitate the premier and Showing, he would make a marvelous display of skill, and her new adepts would shine all the brighter.
“I look forward to seeing how he will encourage his Valerian to offer the very best of themselves for display,” Lady Sapphire said. Because that was really what a Mandrake-Valerian showing did best; a good Mandrake knew all the right ways to play the Valerian until they were glowing with the unique beauty of their pain-pleasure and danced along the edge of great Kushiel’s agony itself.
Ah, there it was. Understanding. Now the pair before her made sense, at least to her unique position in the world. Odilia, even without her guise tonight, knew just what made the tug and pull of dominance and submission elevate beyond what the untrained eye could see. Oh, she did like this Dahlia, she did very much.
Lady Sapphire gestured with one elegant hand, saying, “But I understand three new adepts are debuting tonight. While my lord and I will not join in the bidding for their virgin-price, I would like to see them. Will you give us a tour of the public rooms open for the fête tonight?”
“I would be delighted. Please, follow me, they are not far.”
When she turned, it was clear that her finished marque was not on display. Not tonight, not when the evening was celebrating the new members of her House, she would not be taking any lover of her own this evening. Instead, she devoted herself to the praise of Mara, Naamah, and Kushiel, and excitedly looked forward to the debuts on schedule.
Through the guests, she led the pair, rubies gleaming on her throat and golden chain hanging in hand. It was not a crushing press of a crowd, not everyone in Terre d’Ange understood the particular gifts of Valerian and Mandrake Houses, and those that did were on a short list—many of them Kusheline. Though not all. As they walked, they saw a lord wearing a bronze mask like a priest of Kushiel and with blue-black Shahrizai hair speaking with a distinctly non-Kusheline lord. The second lord was smaller, lithe, dressed in black, with a grey mask that complimented the silver of his hair. He certainly stood out among the black and red of the salon’s decorations.
Beyond the main salon were the public rooms, upstairs and down the quarters and dungeons, and towards the back and near the garden, still sleeping in winter, was the space set aside for special occasions. A small stage was in the center of the round room so that spectators might watch from every angle. Any manner of furniture could be brought onto the dais or hung from the ceiling. On the far most wall was a tall cabinet and shelves, holding every sort of aide de amor imaginable. The entire space was elegantly decorated in scarlet, black, and gold, and already scented with cinnamon, lit with fanciful lamps, and softened with a great many velvet pillows.
Nearby was a curtain, behind which whispered voices could be heard. Shadows of three individuals could be seen through the somewhat opaque fabric. They went silent when it was clear they were not alone any longer.
“Worry not, my dears, I am only escorting some of our honored guests to meet you. Come out now,” Rosanna called, and the two instantly obeyed. Moving with so much grace, eyes averted, hands gently held before them, the debuting adepts were both dressed in fine white, virginal silk with black collars at their throats. No lead though, for they would attain that when their first patron would win them. “Lady Sapphire and Lord Garnet asked to meet you.”
Together the two made honors toward the couple, moving in perfect tandem. A whispered welcome was spoken all as one, two voices resonating perfectly. Rosanna watched with pride in her eyes.
Lady Sapphire pulled Lord Garnet firmly with her to approach the debuting adepts, her brown eyes studying the details of the two of them, while his blue eyes focused on her alone. She turned her head to murmur to her companion. “This is why I have brought you with me tonight, my lord; so that you may hear for yourself how these young adepts view the concept of service.”
She turned her eyes back to them and, feeling the weight of her gaze, both shivered slightly. She commanded them, “You are prepared to offer yourselves to sacred service tonight. What does your House teach you about what it means to serve? Answer me.”
The more timid of the two spoke, his breath trembling at the command in her voice, “W-we are taught it is a gift, my lady.”
“A gift?” Her dark hair rippled as her head tilted with the leading question.
“Yes,” the second debuting adept said with a nod. “While we offer our bodies and accept pain with our pleasure, it is a gift to offer ourselves so deeply and fully to our patrons.”
“Not everyone understands the place that pain has in pleasure,” Lady Sapphire said as she paced a slow circle around the new adepts. “How can you discern who understands the value of your gift and who only seeks to slake their cruelty?”
“We…we have to learn to feel when the lash is wielded with love, my lady,” the second answered again. She dared to lift her eyes to glance at the woman in rippling blue silk and, for that, Lady Sapphire paused before her. She never touched the girl, but held her gaze with complete and controlled composure.
“And how do you know,” Lady Sapphire asked softly, “when the patron you are serving is worthy of your fullest submission?”
The young adept gripped her hands tighter together and whispered, “Because…because they care. They care about us, in the pain and afterward.”
Lady Sapphire hummed, her lashes lowering as she considered this before turning away without another word to the adepts to rejoin her companion, murmuring to him, “Much to consider, don’t you think?”
He nodded slowly.
“Very well done, dear ones,” Rosanna praised the two. Coming forward, she pressed a kiss to each of their worried brows, soothing away the shivers, and helping ground them once again. Only when they had returned to a state of calm did she walk them back to their safety behind the curtain. For their passing of the Dahia’s questions they would receive something nice as a reward, extra dessert or some such thing. After ensuring her adepts were properly cared for, she returned to her guests.
“Have you found the answers you sought?” She inquired as she rejoined them at the far side of the room.
Lord Garnet, still reluctant to speak and reveal himself, pressed his lips together. Lady Sapphire tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, beginning to draw him away as she said, “Much to consider, like I said. Do enjoy the rest of your celebrations, we will not take any more of your time. There are surely many things that require your attention now.”
Outside, a clock struck the hour, a low note that hung in the air, not ominously but in anticipation. Soon the highlight of the evening would commence. Something Rosanna herself needed to be prepared to introduce and facilitate. By now surely Ives would be looking for her to begin the preparations for the night’s prayers, Showing, the bidding, and all that would go on until the final guest left.
She stood watching the couple withdraw to make space for the final preparations for the prayer service, and did not hear the cat-silent steps approaching her until the voice spoke, “There is a rumor, you know.”
Rosanna startled, her hand flying to her chest as she bit back the squeaking gasp of surprise, spinning to glare at her usual Showing partner, Ives nó Mandrake. A tall, well-formed man, with sable hair that just brushed his shoulders and fell into his icy-blue eyes, he was dressed in red with accents of black leather, his arms left bare, and his robe loose—ready to be slipped off to bare his marque when the Showing began. She scowled at him, seeing the way he dangled the information before her, teasing her with it as he looked almost innocently after the couple that had just left.
Finally, Rosanna took the bait, she couldn’t help it. “What rumor?”
He smirked in his victory, before his brows arched, and he said, “The whispers in Mandrake House say that there was a time where our previous Dowayne went to visit Dahlia House. I don’t know why, and it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that it is said his eye was caught by the novice that served the wine for his visit.”
He enjoyed drawing it out, finally purring, “It is said that he offered to buy her marque on the spot. He revealed too much of his hand, of course, and Dahlia naturally refused, but still…it is curious. Had he succeeded…could you imagine?”
Rosanna bit her lip, glancing back the way Gustav de la Courcel had gone with Odilia nó Dahlia on his arm. She had seen the way the Dahlia had moved through the salon here, seen the way she circled the debuting adepts, felt for herself the weight of her gaze when she had met those eyes.
Yes, surely it was for the best that Odilia had remained at Dahlia House. Whatever storm was on the horizon with those two, it would only be worse if she had the deep purple mandrake flowers inked into her skin instead of the dahlia.
But Ives was still right—it was curious.