Dotted sporadically along the great Rue Courcel were squares where the tree-lined boulevard opened into wider, pedestrian areas. Carriages and horses could still pass through, but there were areas paved with flat stones and cafés with tables and chairs where people could gather. To maintain a storefront in one of these squares was the dream of any shopkeeper in the City of Elua, and La Gemme Charmant was well-established. They were in no danger of losing business. The storefront was painted a deep, tasteful green to compliment the grey stone of the rest of the building, and the tall windows had clearly been recently cleaned. The lettering in the banner running above the door and windows was carefully done with a precise hand, the calligraphy a little old-fashioned but nonetheless tasteful.
It was the pride of the square. Perhaps they were not so neatly positioned or well-connected that they could boast patronage by the royal house itself, but most of the nobles that kept their townhouses on Rue Courcel came to La Gemme Charmant for quality and design. They had a legacy of excellence and both of the Master Jeweller’s children exemplified it—albeit in different ways.
The young man stood patiently at the door, his dark eyes watching as the carriage marked with the livery of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers came rolling to a stop in the square outside. His arms folded over his chest, he watched the footman offer a hand to help the passenger down as she disembarked with Night Court grace. The appearance of a Servant of Naamah was always of note to the citizens of the City of Elua, so the jeweller watched as heads turned and steps slowed to see the courtesan. She handled it with the casual acceptance and poise of all the Night Court trained, keeping her head high and her steps even as she crossed the square towards the jeweller’s shop, but the whispers that followed her would be impossible to miss.
The gentleman at the door gave her a small bow. “Welcome. Please step inside.”
The footman waited outside as the adept vanished with a swish into La Gemme Charmant, and it was only once the door had closed and the jeweller had brought the woman into the rooms further back from the windows that both of them let their masks crack. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he drew her close in a tight embrace as they held each other briefly, relaxing into the comfort and familiarity of each other. No matter what the Night Court had done for her when it took her, it hadn’t separated her heart completely from her family, and she held her brother tightly for a long moment.
“Alesander,” she exhaled into his shoulder, letting some of her tension go as she tightened her embrace before pulling back. Her dark eyes looked up into her brother’s dark eyes, and she asked, “How is Father?”
Alesander squeezed her hand before releasing it and saying, “His hands shake more and more every passing week. I am all but running the store myself.”
“The reputation of the work is still well-regarded,” she said, accompanying him to the back rooms of the store where the clients were served infused waters and fruits while they discussed design details. “I hear it. The adepts speak highly of the patron gifts they are given that come from here, and I see the patrons themselves wearing your designs. Even without Father’s hands, the reputation is secure.”
“I hear things, too, Odilia,” her brother said, sitting down with her. “Things I should have heard from your lips, not the gossips that think I cannot hear them while they peruse the jewels.”
To her credit, she did not deny it. She merely looked at him, accepting his words with the strength that Dahlia House had given her before she nodded slowly. “Yes, I should have told you.”
“The Dauphin, Odilia?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“We met during his Grand Tour at his majority.”
“Years, Odilia? Years, and you said nothing?”
“I did not think it would become anything. He was a patron for a night, like all the others. Then he sent me letters while he was at university.”
“Letters?”
“At first just simple correspondence about his classes, about how he was doing, how he missed the city but was coming to love the Siovale mountains. Then he wrote me poems and asked for my advice.”
“What replies were you sending that encouraged this?”
“He was a patron, Ales! I was maintaining the connection as all adepts are taught to do so that a patron may return!”
“And when he did, he kissed you at the Revelry for all to see! See and then gossip! Odilia, people are wondering.”
“People always wonder, certainly about royalty and certainly about Servants of Naamah.”
“But not so often the two together. You understand the implications this may have? What some people will use this to say?”
Her gaze sharpened on him. “What people?”
Alesander sighed heavily, rubbing his hand down his face. She turned toward him. “Ales, what have you heard?”
“Nothing,” he said wearily. “At least, not enough to know for sure. Yet…there are whispers. Some are…discontent with the influence someone like you may exert over the future King.”
“Someone like me?” She couldn’t quite keep the sting from her voice. “A Night Court adept? Or a commoner?”
“Either?” He shrugged helplessly. “Both? For all the great history the Night Court has, the power and beauty and glamor of it can cause as much resentment as admiration. And you, a common-born girl, rising so far as to have the Dauphin in your bed? It’s too much for some to take.”
“Who, Ales? Who is saying these things?”
A muscle worked in Alesander’s cheek before he admitted, “Jacques.”
“Uncle Jacques?” She clenched her hands in the fabric of her skirts. “How…? Why?”
“I don’t know, O. He’s soured, something has made him angry. He’s blaming you for it, for it all.”
“You have to stop him,” she said urgently. “Please, Ales, you have to talk to him. These kinds of whispers won’t be tolerated, not with Gustav poised to be crowned next year. He can’t risk the slander of it, his powerful friends won’t allow it. If Uncle Jacques stirs up too much trouble, then—”
“Does he love you, Odilia?”
She sat back slightly. “What?”
“Gustav de la Courcel, does he love you? Truly?”
“I don’t see why that’s relevant.”
“Love as thou wilt, Blessed Elua said.” Alesander stared hard into her eyes. “Is it love?”
“I’m not…sure.”
“If there’s one thing you always are, it’s sure. It’s why Dahlia took you. You were always confident and sure.”
She clenched her teeth so tightly they began to ache before she finally allowed herself to admit it quietly, “I think he does.”
Alesander nodded. It was no less than he expected. “You understand how that will change things, of course you do. You know better than him, I expect.”
“Which is why I know how badly this could go if Jacques isn’t handled delicately,” she said urgently. “Please, Ales, the last thing we need is for him to get too much attention or, Elua forbid, get the Judiciary involved. This cannot escalate. Please, help me.”
“He barely speaks to me anymore,” Alesander said bluntly. “Whatever grievance he has against you, he’s taking it out on me, too.” He rose to his feet, pulling back away from where she tried to grasp his hand, brushing out his trousers as he said quietly, “I’ll fetch your order for you. You’ll look beautiful in them.”
He withdrew into the back room where the finished orders were kept, and she closed her eyes against the sting of his words, sitting alone in the place that had once been her childhood home before everything had changed.