Author: Longest Night Midwinter Masque

She was sick of him. Blessed Elua help her, she was sick and tired of him. He was too loud, too bawdy, and was drinking far too much of her wine. Worst of all, he was monopolizing her Second.

Aliksandria nó Cereus had decided that, somehow, she needed to get rid of this Don Ramiro. He was an inappropriate patron for any Cereus adept, but particularly for the Second. Regardless of what Petrea might claim, she was certainly not putting in enough work to earn this “plaything.” So, Aliks had devised a plan that she was sure would remove this…distraction…and get Petrea back to work.

Marco Meridius, Petrea’s long time lover, had returned to the City of Elua days before and was spending the evening with her. Don Ramiro was off doing Elua knows what he did with his time when he wasn’t hanging about her House. Petrea had specifically told Ramiro that she was unavailable for the evening, but Aliks had invited him to drop in. She was positive that his Aragonian pride would not be able to endure seeing Petrea and Marco together. Oh, Ramiro knew that Petrea had other patrons, but actually encountering it? That would be unbearable for him. Aliks was certain that he would cause a ruckus, maybe even become violent? And that would allow her to ban him from Cereus House, as she had sworn to do weeks before. He had managed his behavior thus far, mostly at Petrea’s behest, but Aliks was sure that this would be too much for him.

*

Petrea nó Cereus and Marco sat in the lush gardens of Cereus House, curled up on a chaise and speaking in low tones. It had been months since they had been together and Petrea was relieved to be back in his arms. No matter how many other patrons she might take and how much she might enjoy their company, her heart, at its core, belonged to Marco. She could never be his wife and could never leave the Night Court, but she could not imagine a life without him in it.

She leaned back against him and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of the summer flowers blooming in the gardens as she listened to Marco’s voice in her ear. He had been quietly regaling her with stories of his travels from Menekhet through Caerdicca Unitas. Menekhet! She could hardly imagine just how far away that was. Marco’s trading took him all over the world; she had seen but a fraction of it on her journey with him. It amazed her how he slid so easily from one country to the next, seeming to fit into every culture as though he had been born to it. She was so caught up in his story of a parrot trader that she almost didn’t hear the voices coming from the hallway.

“…believe she’s in the gardens. Please come with me and we’ll see if she’s there.”

It was Aliks’s voice coming closer. But who was with her? Aliks knew how much Petrea and Marco wanted their privacy. Who could possibly be so important that she would interrupt them?

“Aliks,” she said, seeing her Dowayne come through the doorway, “what is it that merits this interr…” she trailed off as she realized who followed Aliks through this doorway.

It was Ramiro. But what was he doing here? She had informed him that she was unavailable this evening and he had made plans to go to Balm House. Why had he changed his plans? Why had Aliks brought Ramiro into the garden and not simply turned him away? One patron did not interrupt another and certainly not these two patrons. Something was terribly wrong with this situation.

Petrea looked from one to the other in confusion. Aliks smiled blandly at her, but Petrea caught something flash in her eyes for the briefest of moments. Was it…triumph? What was going on here?

Marco rose from the couch, disentangling himself from Petrea. She stood behind him, unsure what to do with herself.

“Ramiro,” he said casually, “it has been so long. A year? Longer, perhaps?”

Petrea again looked at Aliks as Ramiro strode towards Marco. Again, Aliks gave her a blank look.

“Marco!” Ramiro threw out his arms, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Mi amigo! It has been too long!”

Marco laughed and the two men embraced like childhood friends. “Ah Ramiro, you are right, it has been too long! I meant to visit you, but my travels have not taken me through Aragonia. I am so pleased that we happen to be here together. What a surprise!”

Marco returned Ramiro’s grin as they clapped each other on the back.

Petrea was certain she caught a look of shock and, perhaps, disappointment? cross Aliks’s face. Clearly, this was not at all what Aliks had expected – had she wanted something different? It was, however, exactly what Petrea had expected.

Ramiro and Marco had met the past year when Petrea had arranged for lodgings on Ramiro’s estate during their travels. He had agreed to house them in exchange for a night with her. Marco had been neither surprised nor perturbed at the Marqués’s request. She was, after all, a Servant of Naamah and he was well aware that she took other patrons. During their time in Aragonia, the two men had discovered they had common interests and became friends, promising to write and visit each other.

“Ramiro, I am surprised to see you. I thought you were going to Balm House tonight.” Petrea said mildly, giving him the kiss of greeting.

He shrugged. “I heard you might receive me should I stop in.” He gave her a grin. “And you know I am always pleased when you receive me.”

He winked suggestively.

Nexto to them, Marco snorted. “Eh? Been receiving you often, has she?”

“But, of course! Dolce Petrea is always eager to deepen her connections with her favorite patrons. And I’ve connected quite deeply with her.”

He licked his lips lasciviously.

Marco chuckled. “Hungry, Ramiro?”

“Starving! Always! And the dessert here is quite delicious.” Ramiro gave Marco a sly look.

The two roared with laughter.

Aliks cleared her throat loudly.

“Don Ramiro, perhaps we should leave these two to their evening?” she said tersely.

Marco glanced at Petrea, who gave him a tiny shrug.

“Nonsense! We have plenty of time to ourselves. Please join us for some wine, Ramiro. We can catch up.”

Petrea swore she caught a flash of annoyance on Aliks’s face, but couldn’t be sure. What on Earth was happening with her? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Por supuesto! I would love to catch up with you. Lady Aliks, bring us more wine! You know which one I prefer!”

“Aliks, could you please ask a servant to bring us more wine,” Petrea requested. “Whatever we have fully stocked would be perfect.” She gave Aliks a placating smile, knowing that Ramiro’s declaration was not received well.

“I have to have someone check. Our inventory has not been completed recently.” She gave Petrea, whose job it was to oversee the audits, an intentional look. “And many, many bottles of that vintage have been served recently.”

Turning back towards the hallways, she gave Marco a brief nod. “Marco, a pleasure as always.”

*

Aliks clenched her fists and gritted her teeth.

Her plan had failed. Spectacularly.

They were friends?! How could that blasted Aragonian scoundrel be friends with Marco?! How could kind, caring, and intelligent Marco be friends with that foolish cad?! It was just unfathomable!

Storming down the hall, she nearly knocked over a young adept carrying bed linens.

“Oh excuse me, my lady Dowayne!” he yelped, jumping out of her way.

“Get some wine to the patrons in the garden! I don’t care what, just something!” she snapped.

“Y-y-yes, milady,” he stammered, scurrying off.

Aliks stomped into the kitchen and headed towards the back door. A shocked cook looked up from chopping vegetables as Aliks flew through the room.

“My lady! Did you need anything?” she questioned, flustered by the sudden appearance of the obviously annoyed Dowayne.

“No! I’m off to Mandrake House. If anyone needs anything, go bother the Second!”

“We are going to get into so much trouble,” Aliks said, giggling.

“Truly? More trouble than for stealing tarts from the kitchen or more trouble than for reading books from the restricted section?” Petrea taunted.

It had been nearly a year since the night she had talked to the crying girl and declared they were now best friends and, even though she had seemed skeptical at the time, Petrea had become just that. This time, however, the game was to see how far they could push their luck.

The initiates were learning embroidery, to practice dexterity. They had been told they could have freedom of expression, but to remember that these would be put on cushions for the salons. The idea had been Aliksandria’s at first, but Petrea had been the one to bring it to fruition. When Petrea showed Aliks the sketch, both girls burst into fits of laughter. But they embroidered the designs nonetheless.

Aliksandria was shocked when the Second looked at their work and declared their stitching to be fine and their use of florals in blues to be elegant. Petrea had actually held her breath. They had to see it, right? But either way the cushions were made.

It was almost another year later when they were summoned to the Dowayne’s office to be dressed down. As it turned out, no one had noticed, until an eagle-eyed and bored patron looked too closely at the cushions. Rumor was he laughed uproariously and told the Dowayne he was honored to see Cereus House care so much for their male patrons. It had been then that the Dowayne picked up the cushion, turned it sideways and saw it: a man’s member where the flower stamen should have been.

The Dowayne glared at the two girls who stood in her office. They tried to appear contrite, but struggled to hold their laughter. A year! It had taken almost a full year for anyone to notice their naughty embroidery, prominently displayed in a salon for all to see. Truth be told, they were almost proud of themselves.

“This behavior is absolutely unbecoming of a Cereus adept. Perhaps Orchis House might accept it, but not here,” she snapped. “Now, which one of you is responsible for this idea? Who is the troublemaker?”

Aliks took a deep breath and managed to speak over her friend who was about to confess. “It was my idea. We are Servants of Naamah, after all, my lady, and is there not beauty in the human form?”

Next to her, Petrea was biting her lip to keep from laughing at Aliks’s blithe tone.

“The celebration of our bodies is one thing, but this is mockery. It is beneath us. We must hold ourselves to a high standard here.” She looked pointedly at Aliks. “I know you have ambition, Aliksandria, and if you want to rise to prominence, you cannot engage in such childish nonsense!”

At this, all humor seemed to drain from the room. Aliks wanted nothing more than to become Dowayne of Cereus House someday. She and Petrea were, perhaps, old enough now for their behavior to be noted. She was being warned.

Next to her, Petrea cleared her throat, glancing at her friend. She had come to the same conclusion. “What Aliks says is true, but we do now understand how our…work…could be seen as a mockery. We both truly do regret our actions and we see that such behavior is below our station.” She paused. “Thank you for your guidance, my lady.”

The Dowayne nodded once and then looked at each girl, meeting their eyes. “You must take care. Now, take your leave.”

Want to stitch your own scandals? Click the links below for Petrea and Aliks’s embroidery patterns.

Phallus

Naamah’s Pearl

The room was too warm and the night dress too tight. Petrea tugged at her neck and flopped on her back, sighing. It was her first night at Cereus House, her first night of her new life, and she hated it. Her parents promised joining the Night Court would be a better life than what they could provide, but what could be better than home? Petrea loved the thatched roof of their tiny house and she didn’t care that it leaked in the rain. She loved curling up in her blankets next to the fire on cold nights and she didn’t care that she woke up shivering when the fire went out. But she knew that Mother cared. Petrea saw the tears in mother’s eyes as she counted the meager coins to take to market, though she knew mother tried to hide them.

So when the Priest of Elua had suggested to Mother and Father that their daughter could improve her lot in life – and provide a tidy sum for them – by joining Cereus House, Petrea reluctantly agreed. The Priest explained that she would move to the City of Elua and live in the palatial Cereus House, learning the skills of a fine courtesan, making her marque, and earning enough money to live as a fine lady. The sum that her parents would receive from Cereus House would be enough to help them buy a new house and start a small farm. And more than living a luxurious life herself, Petrea wanted her parents to be comfortable.

So, she went with her parents and the priest to the fine City of Elua and rode in a carriage up Mont Nuit to the fine Cereus House. She was ushered into a fine salon, where her parents made arrangements with the Dowayne, a tall woman with pale blonde hair and sharp hazel eyes. She was permitted to say goodbye briefly; Mother and Father promised to write; they did not promise to visit. Petrea took note of this. And then it was done. They were gone, along with her entire life.

Petrea sighed again and pulled at the tangled night dress. She threw off the thick covers. Unfamiliar though everything was, the night dress was soft and smooth, and the mattress thick. She looked around the room, lit by the huge fireplace. Tapestries hung on every wall and a plush rug covered the stone floor. Petrea had never seen tapestries or rugs before; the floor of her house had been dirt. Her eyes fell on the clothes she had been given, draped over the chaise.

The dress was fine velvet, trimmed with silk ribbons, the slippers satin. She didn’t know such fine fabrics existed. The undergarments had felt odd – almost slippery – against her, after a childhood spent in rough spun wool. Everything was just…strange and she longed for home, for something, anything familiar.

Unable to hold back her emotions any longer, Petrea rolled onto her belly and began to cry. She sobbed desperately, silently pleading with every angel to take her away from this place, to take her home.

She was so consumed by grief that she didn’t notice as someone sat down beside her on the bed.

“You have to stop crying. You will wake everyone up.”

Petrea startled at the voice and sat upright. A young girl, about a year or so younger than she, sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at her.

“Wh- what did you say?” Petrea wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

The girl made a sound of distaste and shook her head. “Don’t do that either. It will make your eyes and nose even redder. And that’s not attractive.” She said the last word like it was the most important word in the world.

Petrea blinked at her. “I’m sorry, who are you? And why are you sitting on my bed?”

The girl smiled. “I am Aliksandria. I have the bed next to you.” She gestured to the bed to the left. “You woke me up, so I thought I’d check on you, see what was wrong with you and if I could help.”

Petrea gave her a puzzled look. “Help me? How are you going to help me?”

Aliksandria looked her over. “My first piece of advice to you: do not cry; it makes you look weak. One thing Servants of Naamah are not is weak. Certainly not those of Cereus House.”

“I miss my home and my parents. I don’t know if coming here was the best idea.”

“What do you mean?” asked Aliksandia incredulously. “We are going to be Servants of Naamah! What could possibly be better than that?”

“You don’t miss your family and home?” Petrea asked, confused.

“Of course not. My parents live here on Mont Nuit, though not in Cereus house, but this,” she gestured about the room, “is my home. One day I’m going to be a Dowayne like my grandmother was.”

“Your grandmother was a Dowayne?” Petrea asked, finding the idea of a grandmother living in a place like this odd.

“She was, but she died when I was a baby. So, what do you want to do with your life?”

Petrea blinked at her. She didn’t know what else to do. This conversation was difficult to follow.

“I suppose I never thought about it.”

Aliksandria frowned at her briefly, then began speaking again. “I’m eleven and I’ve been here a year. How old are you?”

“I’m twelve.”

Aliksandria tapped her chin. “Hmm…that could work.”

“What could work?”

“I’ve decided we should be best friends. I think it would be beneficial to both of us. You’re new and need someone to show you around. And I need a best friend. You should call me Aliks. I would like my friends to call me that.” She said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Petrea’s mind reeled from this conversation, or rather, monologue. But she had never had a best friend and the idea was appealing, so why not?

“Um, alright…Aliks.” She smiled.

Aliks nodded and jumped off the bed. She crawled into her own bed and looked over at her new best friend.

“You know, every Dowayne needs a good Second.”