“Stay still, Corinne,” Eirini nó Gentian tried to sound firm even through her smile as the young adept squirmed with excitement, “If I stab you with this hair pin, guess whose fault it is.”
“I’m sorry,” Corinne tried to sit still, “It’s just….my first Midwinter Masque! Eirini, I’m so excited!”
“I know,” the Dowayne said with a patient smile, remembering how excited she had been for her first Masque years ago. She secured the last part of the intricate hairstyle and shooed the girl away, “Go find Eva for final checks.”
The adept curtsied and left, closing the door to the Dowayne’s apartments silently behind her. Finally alone, finally with the time to prepare herself, Eirini nó Gentian sat behind her desk, poured herself a cup of tea, and took a moment to breathe. The awareness of the breath was the first thing Gentians learned upon arriving in the House, for it was the foundation of life and the basis for all meditation and trance-work. She breathed, in and out, and it was only too easy to close her eyes and sink into the meditative state she had been resisting all day. It was Midwinter, the shortest day of the year and the longest night. It was a tipping point between dark and light, winter into spring, night into day. It was a sacred and magical day. And there was much riding on this day and the Masque this night.
Eirini had heard the news, heard the gossip in her dreams and in the salon as well. The young Dauphin, the new Crown Prince Gustav de la Courcel, would be standing Cassiel’s Vigil tonight, not attending any of the fetes throughout the city, not in the Royal Palace and not in Cereus House. But lest his absence be considered an insult or offence, he had chosen a representative to send in his place. His Official Companion would be attending the fete at the Palace, playing nice with the court and courtiers. But to the Court of Night Blooming Flowers, the Dauphin had chosen to send a Dahlia. A deliberate slight? An innocent action? After the unrest and the loss that had gripped the nation at the beginning of the year and changed everything, there was too much riding on this night to risk entering Cereus House unprepared.
So Eirini reached for her deck. Six cards, arranged around the teapot still steaming on her desk. Six cards, turned over one at a time. Six cards, each whispering in her mind, trying to give their wisdom and warnings. The spread had become a vine, a single stalk with two unfurling branches, a single momentous choice with two potentials revealed.
The Wheel of Fortune and the Fool warned the Gentian about grand changes, changes that the country may not be fully prepared for. The right branch spiralled from the Lovers reversed into the upright Seven of Cups. Shallow intimacy and lack of deep and true connection that would lead to dreams impossible to achieve and a time of stagnation for Terre d’Ange. The left branch rose from the Fool, through the upright Two of Cups to end at the Devil reversed. Connection and communication and community would bring freedom and a Terre d’Ange in control of their own fate.
Eirini sat back in her chair. She reached for a flask from one of her desk drawers and spiked her tea. She would need it.
“Joie to us all,” she muttered.