Cereus House is pleased to announce that planning has begun for the 2022 Longest Night Midwinter Masque ball. We look forward to seeing you in January, in person.
Details on dates, location, and health and safety protocols to follow as they become available; subscribe to our blog for updates and storylines.
My dearest Aliksandria,
Tomorrow we sail for Alba and, after days crammed in a small coach, I look forward to anything with more space and open air! And, yes, I will concede to my discomfort at our lodgings. While Marco has done everything in his power to secure rooms at the finest inns, I have had to turn many times to my training so as to school my face and not show my distress at the sights and smells of some of our accommodations. But, while the rooms may be drafty and firewood scarce, every Servant of Naamah knows there is no shortage of ways to keep oneself warm at night with one’s lovers at her side.
The Duc de Morhban gave us lodging last night – such luxury after weeks of discomfort! He dined with us and, as happens with nobles living in the provinces, he wanted all the gossip of the City. It seems I cannot escape the nobility ever slavering for gossip of Odilia and Gustav, no matter how far I travel. Perhaps things will be better in Alba? He mentioned having heard somewhat of the Longest Night, asking endless questions of my thoughts on Odilia. It leaves one to wonder what information he truly sought.
This morning Marco showed me the ship that we are to board and, oh Aliks, it is marvelous. The sails practically glowed in the morning sunlight that glanced off the water. And the air smelled of salt! I never considered the notion that salt truly has a smell, but it does, and the sea smells of it. Of course it was terribly cold, not that one could tell by the sailors moving about the docks. One would think it a fine spring day by the way they go about their business in shirtsleeves and breeches. These are clearly (handsome) men of great fortitude, and Marco was highly entertained by my unabashed staring – and theirs in return.
While I admit no lack of trepidation at setting off to sea in the morning, my heart sings with great excitement at the next step in this journey and the adventures that may lie ahead. My next missive to you shall be sent from the green shores of Alba!
All my love,
Petrea
After receiving her letter, the L’Agnace Duc responds to his granddaughter.
To Rosanna Baphinol no՜ Valerian, My Favorite Granddaughter from Roland Sovereign Duc in L’Agnace Your Own Grandfather.
As always I am grateful to hear from my grandchildren, particularly from the one which does so more often than on the obligatory occasions. This is proved even more appreciative when receiving news such as this. Indeed, the additions and improvements to the hunting lodge have come to such a place where I can trust the steward to handle the final details and allow me to make a sojourn to the City of Elua. Even in the country we have heard tell of the theft of the sangoire cloak from the palace and the slight against the young King’s paramour. While some of my colleagues have expressed some distasteful opinions on whom the monarch should be spending his evening with, I find the pairing a logical choice – considering the nature and talent of Dahlia House and the new King’s lack of preparedness for his role. That and this adept has the honor of your friendship, so I was already curious what this Odilia is like.
I find it hard to see what is so awful with a royal taking a member of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers as a lover, as though any of the offended parties have not spent their inheritances there already.
With much affection and curiosity to meet your Dahlia friend, expect me expediently.
Sunlight streamed through the large windows of the salon as Dowayne Aliksandria nó Cereus lounged on a chaise, drinking wine with Marco Meridius, the Tiberian trader who would soon be taking her Second on a grand tour of the world. Standing in front of them, the object of their discussion and Marco’s affection, Petrea nó Cereus her arms held aloft as a tailor pinned the waist of a finespun wool gown in deep blue.
“The fabric will serve well in Alba, and the color brings out her eyes, does it not?” Aliks commented, refilling Marco’s glass.
He murmured an assent, a grin playing on his handsome face.
They were in the large salon of Aliks’s private apartments at Cereus House, supervising the creation of Petrea’s wardrobe for the long journey. At Aliks’s insistence, the finest couturier had been commissioned to come to Cereus House specially for the job.
Petrea frowned at herself in the full length mirror and met Aliks’s disapproving gaze.
“That’s an unflattering look on your face, my dear,” she scolded.
“I still don’t see why we had to bring the couturier here,” Petrea scoffed. “There is simply no reason that Marco and I couldn’t have gone to Le Designeur Royal ourselves.”
The Dowayne shook her head. “It would not be fitting of the Second of Cereus House. We must maintain the highest standards in all things. We do not simply walk into an atelier like anyone else and ask for an appointment. If the Second of Cereus House needs a gown, or a cloak, or a full traveling wardrobe – as you do – then the couturier will come to you.” She shrugged. “That’s all there is to it.”
Marco grinned. “And it’s not as if you don’t deserve to be treated with the utmost care and concern, my love. You should listen to your friend.”
“Why, I do believe you two are plotting against me!” Petrea teased.
“Hardly. We are plotting for you, darling.” Marco caught her eye in the mirror and gave her a wicked smile.
At that she laughed and threw up her hands. “Alright! Alright! I give up! I will take this pampering you are forcing upon me.”
Aliks sipped her wine. “Enjoy it while you can. You’ll not receive such lavish treatment along your journey,” she warned gently.
Petrea nodded. “I know,” she said softly, toying with the lush fabric draped over her body. “Marco has been telling me about our travel arrangements and accommodations along the way. And while it may not be the genteel lifestyle of Cereus House, I think it should be enough. And besides,” she smiled coyly at his reflected gaze, “we’ll be together.”
At that, Marco stood quickly and strode over to Petrea. He swept her into his arms, pins and fabric falling to the floor. She laughed, throwing her arms about his neck, kissing him.
He turned to Aliksandria.
“Excuse me, my lady, your Second and I have some additional business to attend to.”
And so it came to pass, on the first of May in this year, His Highness Crown Prince Gustav de la Courcel stood in the grand throne room of the Royal Palace and took his place upon the throne as King of Terre D’Ange.
It was a grand and glittering assemblage of nobles, ambassadors, and peers from Terre D’Ange and beyond. Queen Anielle de la Courcel stood on dais, next to the throne that had been hers for so long; to her side stood her daughter, the Princess Livette. Before them, arrayed in an arc, were the High Priests and Priestesses of the Companion Orders in their robes and masks and symbols of angelic power. Ambassadors lined one side of the hall, Peers of the Realm the other. Nobles and other guests were arranged by province, with higher status allowing closer places to witness this tremendous occasion.
The Dowaynes and Seconds of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers were also in attendance and those among the guests who knew the gossip glanced overtly to the courtesans. The Prince entered in his robes of state: Courcel blue with a collar of swan feathers, clasped with a gold lily. Gone was the young prince, so unsure of himself and his future. Before them strode a King. He walked with steady, measured steps down the length of the hall, his bare head held high. He did not look left or right. His blue eyes were only for his mother who stood waiting for him before the throne.
The Queen wore also Courcel blue, a simple gold circlet on her head marked with the lily to signal her status, as she watched her youngest son approach the throne. She had never thought to see him here. She had had three other boys before him, but they were all gone. Now she only had her two youngest. This was never meant to be their fate. This throne and this crown was never meant for Gustav to bear. Was she doing the right thing?
It was too late to wonder that now because he was standing before her. She kissed his cheeks and he smiled at her before kneeling, his blue cape flaring out behind him. Silence filled the grand hall and Anielle took a deep breath, focusing on her little boy.
“Gustav de la Courcel, Crown Prince of Terre D’Ange, and my fourth born, my surviving son. Through the Courcel blood that flows in your veins, you have claim to the throne of Terre D’Ange. Will you accept it?”
His head nodded gravely. “I will.”
Her voice swelled, ensuring that every ear in the hall could hear, “I am Anielle de la Courcel, your mother, and Queen of Terre D’Ange. I sat this throne with your father while he lived and I sat it as we mourned his death and that of your brothers. But you, my son, have come of age, have studied and learned what it is to be a Prince. Your blood is royal, but it cannot tell you how to rule. For that you must learn on your own. I have seen you grow from a babe to a boy to a young man and now I see you grow into a King. Before the High Priests and Priestesses of the Companion Orders, before the combined power of the Sovereign Ducs, before the nobles and the people of our country, and before Elua and all his Companions, with willing hands and a heart full of love, I pass my crown to you. Gustav, will you accept it?”
He took in a breath of his own, eyes flicking to the crown his sister held on a velvet cushion, “I will.”
His mother nodded and lifted the crown from the cushion, raising it high. After a reverent pause, in which everyone in the hall could see and witness it, she set the crown of Terre D’Ange on his head, bending to kiss his brow gently before stepping aside for the Priests and Priestesses.
Head Priests and Priestesses of each Temple in the City of Elua arranged themselves before the throne in the robes of their Order and carrying the symbols of their holy office. As had been tradition, each of the Orders and each of the representatives of the Companions asked a question of the young man that was a binding vow for all to hear and witness.
The High Priest of Elua in his blue robes clasped his hands at his stomach and said, “In Elua’s name I ask you, will you serve the people and the land that has passed down to you through your angel’s blood and look with kindness upon all that shelter in Elua’s grace?”
“I will.”
The Prefect of the Casseline Brotherhood stood in the robes of the order and fixed the young prince with a stern look, demanding, “In Cassiel’s name I ask you, will you strive to become the Perfect Companion for your country and protect your people and your land with loyalty and love?”
“I will.”
The bronze mask of Azza’s face made the words echo slightly as the figure in saffron said, “In Azza’s name I ask you, will you always look to the horizon for the next opportunity that your reign brings for Terre D’Ange? Will you trust in your course and navigate your people to success?”
“I will.”
The figure bearing the scroll and stylus of knowledge and the grey robes of the scholar angel asked, “In Shemhazai’s name I ask you, will you always seek to learn and never turn away from those who would advise you?”
“I will.”
The priestess standing for Camael drew her sword and held it upright before her, saying, “In Camael’s name I ask you, will you defend your people, your country, and your throne with strength and courage?”
“I will.”
The sea-blue robes of the representative for Eisheth shifted and swayed like water as the question was posed, “In Eisheth’s name I ask you, will you serve as surgeon and heal any and all wounds that may befall your country and your people?”
“I will.”
The priest of Anael, in brown robes, spread his calloused hands, “In Anael’s name I ask you, will you till the fields and tend the flocks and add with your own hands to the abundance of this land, never taking for granted the power of hard work and the deep roots that bind you to the earth, our mother?”
“I will”
The representative for Naamah smiled down at the prince, scarlet robes shifting with the breath as it was asked, “In Naamah’s name I ask you, will you pay heed to your heart and follow your desires truthfully that the service you do as King will be a wilful assignation of true love?”
There was the barest pause, a hesitation that had some of the nobles glancing to the Dahlia Second, before Gustav vowed, “I will.”
Last to speak was the black-robed and bronze masked figure that stood to represent Kushiel, and she was the most stern of them all. She barely moved and Gustav had to force himself to look into her eyes behind her mask as she spoke, “In Kushiel’s name I warn you, the vows you have sworn are binding in this Terre D’Ange and the True Terre D’Ange Beyond. Should they be broken, then Kushiel’s justice will be swift. But no one should take this burden upon them without being truly willing. Gustav de la Courcel, do you willingly accept the words of these oaths within your heart?”
He clenched his hands to stop them from shaking, “I do.”
The High Priest of Elua spoke again, lifting his hands in blessing, “Then let it be known from the rocky shores of Kusheth to the warm waters of Eisande, from the mountains of Siovale to the forest borders of Camlach and Azzale, from the rivers of Namarre to the orchards and fields of L’Agnace! By the grace of Elua he stands, Crown Prince no longer, but Gustav de la Courcel, King of Terre D’Ange.”
So let it be known! Let it be announced! Let it be witnessed!
And thus it was done.
Long live the King.
If hopes of gathering support for her friend Odilia after the dreadful display before the palace, Rosanna Baphinol nó Valerian, Dowayne of Valerian House, writes to her grandfather, Roland. Roland de Chalasse, Sovereign Duc of L’Agnace, is a man to both fear and respect. It helps that Rosanna is his favorite grandchild and his influence can be felt from field to fete.
To Roland Sovereign Duc in L’Agnace, Beloved Grandfather from your Devoted Granddaughter Rosanna Baphinol no՜ Valerian.
I hope this letter reaches you in a pleasant state. When last I saw you, there were great changes going on about your estate, improvements for your hunting grounds and the like. Have they progressed to a point where you might be spared a journey to the capitol? Perhaps by now, and knowing your ability to hear even the most miniscule rumors through walls, that some changes have been occurring at the palace as well. Not for me, but on behalf of a friend do I ask this of you. No other Lord amongst the nobility holds the respect and attention of the court as you do, this presence would be of great appreciation in helping my friend gain some ground with those who would look down upon the Servants of Naamah. Beloved Grandfather, surely as your own wife, Elua rest her soul, was a lay Servant I would hope that you see the need for allies in a situation such as this. Odilia no՜ Dahlia is a dear friend, she is more of an asset to the Dauphin than many could conceive possible, dare I say he is a better man with her influence. Even if the man responsible for the slander against her has been caught, the damage he has done needs help to heal. So please, will you come to the city and loan your good esteem to this painful situation? As I am ever loyal and loving unto you, I await your reply with great anticipation.
“You’re upset.”
“Who wouldn’t be?”
“They found who did it.”
“He was only one. Surely there are others.”
“It has been nearly three months and still it upsets you?”
“They stole the sangoire cloak from the palace and hung it from the gates with a message for me. I got that message loud and clear.”
“You knew his love would change things. Were you naive enough to think it wouldn’t come with dangers?”
“Of course not.”
“What is your Dowayne doing to keep you safe?”
“I’ve asked her not to get involved.”
“Odilia!”
“If people are intent on ruining me, I will not have any of that impacting my House!”
“What is the Dauphin doing to protect you?”
“He most definitely cannot get involved. People are already whispering about the attentions and time he has already given me. Any more favour and those whispers will become complaints. Besides, he needs to be concentrated on the preparations for his coronation.”
“Elua’s Day, the announcement was made.”
“The first of May is little over a month away. His attentions need to be given to the throne he is about to inherit. Not to me.”
“Odilia…”
“Alesander,” she finally turned to look at him, “I am the older of us, it is my responsibility to worry about you.”
“You have enough on your mind,” he said, taking her hands, “You do not need to worry about your younger brother.”
“Or our ailing father?”
Alesander sighed.
“How is he?”
“His hands shake more and more every passing week,” he admitted. “I am all but running the store myself. But with my sister being courted by the future King, perhaps we will change our name to the Crowned Dahlia Jewellers?”
“Crowned?”
“The people are saying the commoner will become the Queen.”
She laughed, she couldn’t help it, “Oh Gustav knows better than to try that!”
Warning: this page may contain spoilers for Jacqueline Carey’s Kushiel’s Legacy series.
From the Desk of Helisende de Toluard, Royal Archivist
What follows is a survey of the current ducal families of the D’Angeline provinces. Listed below, in alphabetical order by province, is the information compiled by the Royal Archives to detail the history and standing of the D’Angeline ducal families.
Azzalle – Duc Jourdain de Trevalion
Following the disgrace three generations ago, the ducal title had been stripped from the Trevalion family and given instead to House Somerville, a decision that caused no few ripples considering the Somervilles were not even an Azzallese family. After the disowning of the Somervilles by their ducal heir, however, and his adoption back into his maternal Trevalion family, the ducal title has been restored to the Trevalion family with Bertran, the firstborn of Ghislain and father of the current Duc Jourdain.
Camlach – Duchesse Laetitia D’Aiglemort
Even following the shame of that unspoken-of Aiglemort ancestor and the raising of the Unforgiven, the traditions of a place like Camlach are difficult to break. Though the Unforgiven answered to the Anguisette, her passing left them with only the leadership of their military commanders and military commanders do not a ducal power make. The Unforgiven still guard the borders to reclaim the honour they believe Camlach lost but it is once again an Aiglemort that claims the ducal title. Duchesse Laetitia D’Aiglemort spent her time training with the Unforgiven and earning their respect and loyalty before she petitioned the Crown to restore the honour of her House by serving as Duchesse of Camlach. With the support of the Unforgiven and the Time that passes to ease the wound, Queen Anielle de la Courcel granted the request and Duchesse Laetitia D’Aiglemort was instated.
Eisande – Duchesse Iselette de Mereliot
The Lady of Marsilikos has distinguished her rule as have the other women of her line. Her mother was an accomplished chirgeon and patron of the medical arts. Duchesse Iselette succeeded her mother and balanced her mother’s medical interests with her own interests in architecture to authorize building projects to preserve and strengthen the beauty of Marsilikos. She will be succeeded by her daughter Eleanore.
Kusheth – Duc Thiebault de Morhban
The standing of the ducal power in Kusheth is forever in debate among those families that claim it. Though it has not yet, this Archivist believes that fight will only grow. The current Duc de Morhban is a stern and uncompromising man, weathering the storm of Shahrizai objections, complaints, and accusations as steadily as the Morhban stronghold weathers the winds and waves. However, his only daughter, Lorelai de Morhban, has chosen for her wife a daughter of the Shahrizai line, Roxana Shahrizai. The Shahrizai family now has even more of a claim to the ducal title than before, despite their arguments about blood purity. However, as part of the marriage between the noblewomen, one of the requirements for the union was for Roxana Shahrizai to give up any claim to her family titles and lands and to consent that any children borne or adopted by this union would bear the Morhban name. Regardless, the Shahrizai family is now closer than ever to the ducal seat.
L’Agnace – Duc Roland de Chalasse
Though the Somerville family had held the ducal title of the region since the reign of Queen Ysandre and the Skaldic Invasion, the subsequent actions of that House, as with the ruling of Azzalle, prompted the stripping of the title from them, allowing it to revert back to the Chalasse family who had held it for generations before it was gifted to the Somervilles. The current Duc de Chalasse is a tall and strong man for his age and his line is secured by his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
Namarre – Duc Sebastien L’Envers
With the history of House L’Envers marrying into foreign houses and ruling families, the succession of the ducal seat of Namarre was watched with interest by not only D’Angelines but Aragonians and Akkadians as well, each country believing they had a scion of that house with a claim to the ducal title, and viewing that ducal title as a way to sway D’Angeline politics toward foreign interests. Some of Nicola L’Envers’ line, members now of the Aragonian Royal Family, were interested in establishing further influence over Terre D’Ange but their children were much more interested in remaining in Aragonia. Valère L’Envers Shamabarsin, wife of the Lugal of Khebbel-im-Akkad, gave birth to three sons and it was there that the answer was found. Her oldest two sons were raised as princes of Khebbel-im-Akkad but the youngest was returned to Terre D’Ange to foster with a D’Angeline family and it is his son, Sebastien, that has inherited the ducal title. Sebastien has been a longtime friend of Prince Gustav de la Courcel.
Siovale – Duchesse Niniane de Perigeux
A distinguished scholarly family, there is little to disrupt the passing of the Siovalese ducal title. Duchesse Niniane will be succeeded by her son Lancelin. There is little of note to offer about the Perigeux family, an old House with firm loyalties and a history of scholarship and service. House Perigeux is close friends with House Rocaille.
Petrea, Second of Cereus House, held out her sealed letter to the messenger bound for Tuberium. She handed him a gold coin. “You know where to deliver this? You’re certain? This is highly important that it reach its destination with all haste.” She spoke insistently, with almost an air of desperation.
The courier smiled. “My lady, I will put it in the gentleman’s hands myself. I know him well and will see he gets it as soon as I am able.”
He winked at her and grinned. “I am certain that any correspondence from you is of the utmost importance.”
He took her letter and placed it in his saddlebag. He patted the bag firmly.
“I shall protect this with my life!” he said with mock bravado, spurring his horse.
Petrea laughed and waved to the young man as he rode away.
My dearest Marco,
I cannot, at present consent to becoming your wife, much though the thought intrigues me. I offer you instead a counterproposal. As a sort of trial engagement, I propose that I join you on your next trade voyage wherever that may take you. I know not of your life, other than your stories, and should like to experience it for myself before making my decision.
I shall await your reply, and instructions as to the garments I should bring.
All my love,
Petrea
One week later an exhausted courier delivered a hastily scrawled letter to Cereus House.
My darling,
I will return within the week to collect you. Pack for Alba. I shall take care of everything else.
Yours,
Marco
Three days later, he arrived.
Want the backstory?
Several days after the Masque, Aliksandria, Dowayne of Cereus House and her Second, Petrea, met to discuss a marriage proposal Petrea has received from a long time patron. The proposal was sudden and unexpected and Petrea is giving serious consideration to accepting, and leaving the Night Court.
“I don’t understand,” said Aliksandria. She and Petrea were sitting in her private chambers, drinking wine, and having the long awaited and uncomfortable discussion. “Is it children you want?”
“Of course not,” said Petrea, scoffing at the assumption.
“Because if it is, you needn’t leave the Night Court over it. You know that both my parents were working adepts when I was born, and for many years thereafter.”
“I am not leaving to have children, Aliks,” the Second said quietly.
“Then why? Do you have any idea what the life of a Tiberian matron is like? You know what threats came to Odilia after the Masque! And that was here, in Terre d’Ange, where Naamah’s service is a divine calling, entered into as a sacred trust. What do you imagine it will be like in Tiberium where you are not a revered servant of Naamah, but a whore?” Aliks snapped.
“You needn’t shock me with such language,” said Petrea sharply.
“Really? You don’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation, or at the very least you fail to explain it to me.” Aliks looked pointedly at her friend
“I’m simply tired of it all,” Petrea said sadly.
“Tired of what? Our life? This was our dream, yours and mine. Whispered to each other in the small hours of the night as children in these halls. To one day rise to be the premier courtesans, and run Cereus House, together. Don’t you remember, Petrea?” Aliks pleaded, taking her friend’s hand.
“Was it our dream, or you dream for us? I don’t know anymore. All I have ever known is the Night Court, and I grow weary of gossip, and fetes, and frivolity,” Petrea said with frustration, standing to pace the room.
“Is that truly all you think Mont Nuit is? Frivolous ornaments good for nothing but to share the exploits of others?” Aliks was aghast.
“No, no, of course not, but you know of my weariness. Besides, it is likely Odilia is to become the consort of the Dauphin! It is the same thing, except that I cannot be Marco’s consort and he does not live in the City! Both Odilia and I are following our hearts, our love! She dealt with her threats and I will deal with mine!” the Second said, her voice rising with vehemence.
The Dowayne shook her head. “Oh Petrea, your situations are so different. It is as if you were to compare the moon to an apple and say they are identical because they both look round. You are seeing only with your heart and not with your head, love.”
Petrea sat down on the chaise next to Aliks. “But I do love Marco and clearly he loves me. He did propose marriage.”
“Well of course he did! You are beautiful, kind, intelligent, and quite skilled in Naamah’s arts. You don’t actually expect me to believe this is the first time a patron has proposed to you after an assignation. Blessed, Elua, I’ve lost count of the proposals i’ve received over the years.”
“No, it isn’t, but I’ll not pretend disinterest in this particular offer. This is not an easy decision and I don’t make it without careful thought and consideration. I would hope that you know me well enough to understand that.”
“Well of course it isn’t easy. If it were, we would not be sitting here, having this difficult discussion. You either would have left with him immediately after the Masque, a ring on your finger; or we would be sitting here, drinking this wine, laughing about yet another proposal from a besotted patron!”
Aliks paused, turning thoughtful. “When does Lord Marco return? In a fortnight?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Petrea replied with surprise.
“Oh don’t look so shocked.” Aliks smiled. “As important as he is to you, I make it my business to keep tabs on his schedule and ensure that you have ample time with him when he is in the City. And after he leaves, how long will he be gone then?”
Petrea thought for a moment. “He is bound first for Alba. After that, I know not his route, though I would presume he will return to Tiberium at some point. He’ll like as return to the City six to eight months hence. Perhaps longer?”
“Then I propose this: go with him. Go and see a world outside of Terre d’Ange. Why, you have never been farther than your parents estate in Namarre. Go see this great life he is promising you. You know what a life in the Night Court is like; see the alternative.”
“I can do that? just leave for half a year or more?”
“Why not, who is to stop you? Your Dowayne? I warn you, Petrea, the world is not kind to courtesans and you would be best to consider…” Aliks toyed with a phrase, “…calling your relationship with Lord Marco something other than it is..at present.”
Petrea thought a moment as Aliks’s words sunk in. Aliks was speaking to her not just as a friend, but also as her Dowayne. The notion of not only traveling with Marco, but telling strangers that she was his wife? Would that affect her ability to make a decision?
Aliks continued, all business. “Now for guild purposes, we will write it up as an extended assignation, so you retain guild privileges and protections. Your marque is made, and your fees are yours to dictate between you and Lord Marco. When you return you may either tithe a portion to the house, or keep it as a dowry with my blessing.”
Petrea weighed the offer carefully, then smiled and agreed, hugging her friend. She had been dreading this conversation; had still been unsure of her decision. This was a beautiful compromise.
“This is perfect. Brilliant even. I knew there was a reason I love you so much.”
She dropped a kiss on her laughing friend’s brow and hurried back to her apartments to write a letter to Lord Marco and prepare for the voyage.