Marielle nó Cereus had been a Night Court for nearly twenty years, long enough to develop a sense of when something was happening. And something was certainly happening. Her years of training to listen carefully to what was said—and unsaid—to watch for subtlest movements of her patrons’ faces and bodies, were telling her that something was going on.
The mood in Cereus House was lighter as of late. The adepts’ faces were less dour, their chins held a touch higher. The servants hugged the walls a little closely as they went about their duties, and their eyes didn’t dart away from Marielle’s as they passed her in the halls. And if the candles burned a touch brighter, well, that Marielle was sure she was imagining.
No one spoke of the difference at Cereus House, but all within its walls felt it. The household went about its business with a lifted spirit. No one questioned anything, seemingly content to exist in the better climate. That was enough for them. Marielle wished it could be enough for her, but she was too curious. She always had been. Was this simply the House recovering from the long, dark days under Dowayne Gerault’s iron fist? Perhaps. But Marielle, with all her years of experience and tutelage, knew—she knew—that more lay beneath the surface.
The House continued to run. Assignations were scheduled. Patrons came and went. Novices took their lessons. Children received their care. But everything that came from the Dowayne was in Petrea’s voice. Or even Aimee’s voice on behalf of the Second. Aimee—a Senior adept with no title. No true standing in the House. Why was Aimee speaking for the Second? It was such an odd thing. All these words coming from different mouths. Marielle had mentioned this in passing to the cook one morning. Cook had simply shrugged and replied that everyone proceeded in their own way. A fellow adept said the same—and why should they question favorable circumstances? Marielle nodded and continued with her duties. The servants were happy. Her fellow adepts were happy. Her patrons were happy. Why could she not simply be happy? Why must her mind snag on every small thing? Why must she fixate on the small expressions in Aimee’s and Petrea’s faces that told her there was more going on?
As Marielle lay in her bed, she turned over everything that was different in the House. Perhaps new leadership always took time for adjustments. Perhaps it was simply the Second coming into her own. A new friendship emerging. A new Dowayne finding her footing. Could that be all? Marielle doubted it very highly. She noticed those small gestures and tiny looks between Aimee and Petrea. The way that quieted when others approached.
And then…A few weeks past, the Dowayne had emerged! Looking something worse for the wear, but present, nonetheless. Aliks took breakfast in a salon with Petrea, sat in on lessons with younger adepts, attended a Showing. And she smiled. And, Blessed Elua, she even laughed. It was a lovely thing to see and hear. Something had changed. Something caused Aliksandria to emerge from her dark cocoon.
But what had changed? Marielle’s mind spun with the possibilities. She could find no specific event or action to point to, but the effects were all around. Perhaps it didn’t matter. If all was well, was the reason truly important?
It was with these thoughts that Marielle made her way along the dark corridor. The hour was late, and she had gone to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Her sleep had been uneasy lately. Blessed Elua, it had been uneasy for months. She was returning to her room when she heard laughter coming from down the hallway. Creeping slowly, she followed the sound. She found herself standing not far from the Dowayne’s office. The door stood slightly ajar, and bright, hot firelight burned from within. Great gales of laughter exploded from inside the office. Marielle stood stock still. Who could be making such a racket in the middle of the night?
She knew she should turn around. Knew she should take her tea and go back to bed. Knew she should walk away. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. On silent feet, Marielle made her way to the Dowayne’s office. She peered through the crack in the door, hiding in the shadows so as not to be seen by the occupants. What she saw inside made her gasp. It was only through sheer force of will that she did not drop her cup.
Within the office, a huge fire burned in the fireplace—not uncommon. What was not common, however, was for the Dowayne, the Second, and a senior adept to be dancing in front of it, clearly deep in their cups. The three held glasses aloft, empty bottles of wine and strong spirits strewn about the room. The desk was empty, piles of papers swept onto the floor. Most shocking of all? They were tossing sheaf after scroll after page of parchment into the fire. With each page that burned, they let loose whoops and cackles like fishwives.
“To Gerault! May he rot in the ground!” Petrea slurred loudly, falling to a chaise.
Aliks threw a large scroll into the fire and watched it crackle and curl, turning black. She clinked her glass with Aimee. “May his eyes be eaten by worms!” She shouted and smacked a kiss to Aimee’s lips.
“And his skin turn to mush!” Aimee said, her voice as wobbly as her feet. She turned to Petrea, attempting to toast her, but succeeded only in falling next to her on the couch. Their glasses fell to the floor, shattering.
The three fell silent, looking at each other like naughty children who had just committed some offense, worried they might be caught. Aliks was the first to recover, doubling over with laughter. She threw her glass to the hearth, where it smashed against the stones. Petrea and Aimee stood on unsteady legs, picking their way carefully through the broken glass on the floor. Aliks grabbed a paper, looked at it, and went to throw it into the fire.
Marielle caught a look at it—it was a ledger! Written in Gerault’s hand! They were destroying House records! She could not let them do this!
Her teacup fell from her hand as she shoved open the door and burst inside. “You criminals!” She shouted, slamming the door behind her. “You are…you are…you are destroying our records! You are hiding our finances! You cannot do this! I’ll not allow it!” She pointed a finger at them. “How dare you!” Marielle would not stand for this. She would have them brought to the Judiciary. Hanged for this crime.
Aliks’s hand stopped, midway to the fire, and the page fell to the floor. The three women gaped at her, staring, then their eyes darted to each other. A look passed between them. An instant decision made.
Petrea’s soft voice seemed to echo through the silent room. She held out her hands in a placating gesture. She stepped toward Marielle tentatively, as though she were approaching a frightened animal. “Marielle, this is not what you think.”
“It is!” Marielled spat out. “I know what I saw!”
Petrea shook her head slowly. “Marielle, please. Come in. Please. Sit down.”
Her voice was so gentle, so soothing. So trusting. And Marielle wanted to trust her. This was Petrea, after all. The woman who had sat with her for so many hours, helping her, teaching her, all while suffering silently. Marielle wanted to give her a chance. A chance to explain. A chance to make this right. Her feet took her into the room, almost unbidden. She nodded. “Alright,” she said. “Explain this to me.” She gestured at the mess of papers, bottles, and crackling fire.
Petrea took Marielle’s hands and led her to the chaise. Her voice was tender as she spoke. “Marielle, there is a grave secret, one that could take down Cereus House should it be revealed. I trust you. Because of my trust, we are willing to take you into our confidence. But you must keep to yourself all that you hear. Do you understand? Speaking of this could ruin our House.” Marielle dipped her chin at the seriousness in Petrea’s tone. “This is all about Gerault. About everything he was doing to destroy our House. And everything we are doing to fix that. All that Aliksandria has been working these last months to reconcile.”
The puzzle pieces began to slot themselves into place as Petrea explained Gerault’s treachery and the plan to bring Cereus House back from the brink. Marielle nodded along, the mystery finally solved, her mind finally at rest.
“Just tell me: how can I help?” She asked. “I want to help.”