The year prior…
Petrea nó Cereus had been sitting in her Dowayne’s office, playing her lap harp for what felt like hours. Her fingers were beginning to ache, but her many years of training allowed her to continue to strum the instrument with precision.
Gerault nó Cereus, Dowayne of the House sat at his desk, appearing to pore over vast piles of paperwork. Having done this many times, Petrea knew he was simply looking busy in order to keep her there. He often summoned her to his office and ordered her to sit and play the same long melody over and over, stopping her at a random note, chastising her for missing it, and insisting she begin again. It was a melody Petrea had learned as a child—near a score and half years ago!—and she knew that she knew the piece backwards and forwards. And so did Gerault. She remembered with great melancholy a night many years past that he had sat on an ottoman in her room, laughing with her as she worked through the piece from the end! It was one of her most fond memories, now ruined.
The Dowayne had once been a dear friend to Petrea. In her youth, he had guided her through her training ever so kindly and with great care. He had listened to her concerns and, when he was tapped as Second, he had taken her recommendation of her best friend, Aliksandria, to train as next in line. Petrea remembered with no small sadness the afternoon teas with the two of them, Gerault lounging on a sofa and bemoaning his duties as Second, while noting things that Aliks should remember. While the other two shared the bond of future leadership, Petrea never felt left out. She adored both of them and reveled in their success. She had so looked forward to the day when they would ascend, to the great things they held for Cereus House.
But it had all been for naught. It was almost as if the mantle of Dowayne poisoned Gerault. He became secretive and unkind. Petrea knew that he held things from Aliks, who wanted only to please him. Slowly, the House fell into almost disrepute. And Petrea’s heart broke over and again as Gerault continually took out his ire on her. Perhaps it was their once close friendship that turned him against her.
A knock came at the door, bringing Petrea from her memories, and Gerault indicated the person to enter. Aliks breezed in and approached their Dowayne, a parchment in her hand. “Dowayne Gerault,” she said mildly. “I was looking through some of our ledgers, and I noticed what appears to be an incorrect calculation here—”
“That’s not for you to worry about, Aliksandria,” Gerault interrupted harshly. “I have seen to those ledgers, and there are no mistakes. I am sure that your calculations are simply incorrect.”
Petrea chanced a glance up at her friend. She knew that Aliks had a good head for numbers, and whatever the problem was, Petrea knew that Aliks was correct; she knew this was yet another secret Gerault was hiding, yet another mismanaged bit of House funds. Aliks’s face betrayed no emotion, as was usual when she worked with Gerault. Aliks wanted nothing more than to be a good Second in order that she might be a grand Dowayne. And that meant putting up with Gerault’s poor attitude and behavior. How Gerault was able to keep Aliks in the dark about his misdealings or how Aliks was able to ignore them was a mystery Petrea could not solve.
“Of course,” Aliks murmured. “I will leave this for your review.” She turned to leave, and paused, seeing her friend. Petrea cringed inwardly. She despised these moments. “Oh! Petrea! My dear, I did not see you there. I did not mean to interrupt your….?” Aliks trailed off, raising an eyebrow at Petrea.
Petrea kept silent, far too experienced with this situation to speak. Gerault would make up some lie, and she dare not contradict it.
“Petrea wanted to practice a piece. A patron complained that she stumbled over it, and I wanted to help her perfect it.”
“Well, yes, I…of course.” Aliks stumbled over her words. Petrea knew that Aliks would ask her about this later, and Petrea had no idea what she would say. Gerault was careful to keep this so far from Aliks’s eyes. When Petrea had first cried to her best friend about his poor treatment, Aliks had been aghast but unbelieving. She had been sure that the Dowayne would not pick on their friend. It was just impossible, Aliks had said, their history ran too deep. Ever since then, Petrea had been tight-lipped about her situation. “I shall leave you both to it, then. Thank you for your time, Dowayne.” Aliks withdrew and closed the door behind her.
Petrea didn’t move a muscle, waiting to see what Gerault would do now that Aliks knew she was in the office with him. Surely, he would dismiss her soon? Or perhaps, his “help” would be needed for many more hours.
“Get up,” Gerault snapped, his tone full of annoyance. “I can’t have you sitting here now.”
Petrea stood slowly, placing her instrument gently on the floor, her feet tingling as the blood rushed into her muscles. She kept her eyes on the floor. If nothing else, she did not want to see the hatred in Gerault’s eyes. It was too painful. She folded her hands gracefully in front of her and waited.
He heaved a great and tired sigh. “You are such a disappointment, Petrea. I simply don’t understand why you cannot get these things right. Why I have to deal with so many complaints. It is embarrassing. You once showed so much promise. I thought you would become so much better than you have. And yet, here we are.” He clicked his tongue. “It is almost like you are forgetting all of your training as you grow older. It is no wonder you languish without any patrons.”
Petrea’s heart clenched at his remarks. She knew that patrons did not complain about her. Her patrons complimented her, told her how wonderful her skills were—those few patrons she did see. But it was not for lack of interest. She knew that Gerault turned away patrons, telling them she was unavailable, or steering any new patrons to other adepts who would be “a better fit.” Her longtime patrons asked her for more assignations, promising large gifts if she could fit them into her schedule. All she could do was demure and tell them to speak to the Dowayne. Tell them that he was in charge of managing these things. It was something forced on no other adept—everyone else saw patrons when they wished. When asked about it, Petrea would simply shrug and say that she was not one to question the Dowayne’s mind and was sure it was for the best.
Despite Gerault and everything he put her through, she still loved Cereus House. She loved the Night Court. And she loved her fellow adepts. And somewhere, deep in her heart, she still loved Gerault. She loved the man he once had been. Every time she went to the temples of Blessed Elua and Naamah, she would pray for Gerault. She would pray that he would find his way back to himself. And yet, her prayers went still unanswered.
“I’m finished with you,” Gerault said with finality after a long stretch of silence. “Go to your room. I’ll see if the servants have anything left from their supper and have it sent to you. If not, I’m sure there are some bread crusts.” It was one of his favorite punishments: denying her the rich foods that the other adepts and patrons ate. She had long ago stopped caring.
“Yes, Dowayne,” she murmured and gave a low curtsy.
“Get out of here. I don’t want to see you until morning,” he snapped.
Petrea bobbed her head and backed out of the room as she had been instructed to do. As though he were royalty, he expected her to never turn her back on him. It was a most ridiculous thing, and only expected of her, but he did it to convey his power. To Petrea, it only conveyed his foolish pride.
She closed the door behind her and leaned on it, letting out a deep breath and closing her eyes for a moment. Two young adepts scurried by, side-eyeing her as they did. She heard whispers as they continued down the hall, and she knew what they were saying. It was no secret that she was Gerault’s favorite “whipping girl.” Most everyone avoided her, not wanting to draw his eye as well. It was such a lonely existence. Only Aliks, purposely shielded from everything, still treated Petrea as she always had. Aliks’s lover, Aimee, was kind to Petrea, but they had no true friendship or kinship.