watercolor of hand reaching out to flowers in front of a doorway

Storyline: Negotiations

The footmen were no longer surprised to see the Second of Dahlia House approaching the King’s private study, not now that all the city knew how dear she was to the King’s heart.  Certainly not now that she had the ring on her finger.  They merely bowed her through the door with a brief introduction. “Lady Dahlia.”

Gustav looked up from behind his impressive mahogany desk—a desk that had seen so many generations of kings and queens—and brightened with a delighted smile. “My heart!”

She could not stop the smile from flickering across her face—he was ever so endearing, especially now he was able to be more open about his affection.  But she had come here for business, so she refocused and commanded the footman, “Send a page for the queen.”

“At once.” The footman bowed and withdrew, closing the door quietly behind him.  

And Odilia watched Gustav wilt slightly, his brows pinching together as he said, “Sending for Corrian?  What’s the matter?”

“Nothing is the matter,” she said, circling the desk to let him clasp her hand and kiss it. “But there is business to tend to.”

“This is a business visit?” He continued to wilt, and she loved that he trusted her so deeply that he was willing to show her his more emotional side.  Even if the King of Terre D’Ange was pouting slightly. “Not a visit because you love me so dearly you cannot be without me?”

“Two things can be true,” she said, kissing his temple and letting her perfume surround him for a moment, “but I have come for business, Your Majesty.”

He pulled a face, hearing his royal title from her lips and glared half-heartedly at her as she pulled away to settle herself in one of the chairs set before the great desk. 

“You are sure you are not here to save me from my paperwork?”

“The bane of royals everywhere,” she said drily. 

Corrian was seated with some prospective ladies-in-waiting when the page found her, and she was so grateful for the interruption of what had to be the most pointless gossip and needlepoint session that she could have kissed the page.  She excused herself from the noblewoman, who curtsied extra low to try to win some approval, and let the page escort her to the king’s private study. 

Odilia did not rise as the queen entered, merely smiled as Corrian exclaimed, “Odilia, you don’t know what horrible tedium you have rescued me from.  Gustav, excuse me as I kiss your mistress.”

Odilai accepted the kiss, smiling into it easily as the queen cupped her face with both hands. When they parted, she looked up at the auburn-haired woman and said, “Careful what you thank me for, I came for business, not pleasure.”

Unknowingly following in the footsteps of her husband, the Queen of Terre D’Ange pouted. “Well, that’s hardly fun.”

“Nevertheless, it is necessary.”

Corrian flounced down into the other chair and blinked balefully at Odilia before looking at her husband.  He took a deep breath and said, “Very well, Odilia, we are both here.  What is your business?”

“We must negotiate the terms of your long-term contract for my services,” Odilia said evenly, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. “You have named me Royal Companion and Official Mistress, you have declared for all the world that there is an understanding in your marriage that allows for me in your lives, but now we must clarify those terms in accordance with the governance of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers.  You will have to file a contract at Dahlia House officially.  Dowayne Jocaste has allowed some grace for the celebration of your wedding and the first weeks of marriage, but we cannot put this off any longer.”

Corrian pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yes, it’s true.  It was only a matter of time.  Very well, let us discuss.”

Gustav was slightly more petulant. “Odilia, I have waited for years to have you officially in my life, I do not care what the contract says, I will give you the world if you like. What does the paper matter?”

“It must be done properly so that no one can use it against us,” she said firmly. 

“I agree with Odilia,” Corrian said, smoothing the skirts of her gown. “We must do it properly, in all accordance with tradition and regulation.  This is the manner of things.  I do not want someone to call into question my place in our marriage or on the throne because you are keeping your mistress in clear favoritism.  What terms have you already prepared, Odilia?”

“I want official chambers in the palace,” Odilia said easily. “It is my right as Mistress and Companion both.”

“Easily done,” Corrian said with a nod.  “I will even ensure you have a say in the decor as the household prepares them.”

“I want a clause protecting my right not to light a candle to Eisheth,” Odilia continued, watching Gustav.  “The choice is mine, as it is my body, however I do not want to have a child and begin a succession crisis, or take any power from whatever children the two of you have.”

“A matter we have already spoken about,” Corrian said, also glancing at her husband. “I think that is agreeable to us.”

“Finally,” Odilia said, “I want to discuss with you both the expectations regarding my service as an adept of the Night Court.  I am Second of Dahlia House, I cannot leave that behind me. I have responsibilities to my House and to Mont Nuit to help lead.  There are also the expected duties of the Servant of Naamah to serve in the art of pleasure.  I want to be clear about expectations now that I have been named to your households as Royal Companion and official Royal Mistress.”

“Exclusivity,” Corrian put it together.  “You want to know if you are expected to serve just us or if you are to continue taking other patrons.”

Odilia nodded. “Just so.”

Corrian knew better than to answer this.  This was an answer only Gustav could give. Her teeth closed thoughtfully on her bottom lip as she turned to give her husband her full attention.

Gustav looked torn, the furrow deepening in his brow as he finally whispered, “I have always known I would share you.  With Dahlia, with the Night Court.  I…I never felt like I had the right to ask you to be anything but who you are.”

“But now you do,” Odilia said quietly. “Our agreement now has changed that.  If you wanted to, you had the right to ask me to share my bed with only you.  Or you and your wife.  This is what I truly came here to discuss. The other clauses are important and there are other arrangements that will need to be made with the treasury and with the documentation of the contract with Dahlia, but this is where the paths ahead split. Am I yours and only yours?  Do I remain an adept of the Night Court, with all that entails?  What is it that you want?”

“I want you,” he said, his fingers tracing the texture of the embroidery on his doublet.  “That’s all I have ever wanted, was you.”

“If I may,” Corrian spoke up, “I have a thought as to how we could use this to our benefit.”

Tucking a lock of auburn hair behind her ear, she leaned forward slightly in her chair and said, “All of the country knows Odilia is a Servant of Naamah and a member of the Night Court. Now they know how close she is with us. I am sure even before the marriage question rose, there were those who came to Dahlia House just to sample what had caught the prince’s eye.”

“I seem to remember you being one such,” Odilia said wryly. 

“So I know what I am talking about,” Corrian said with a smile.  “But think of it, now all of the royal court will see her and know her as ours.  They will scheme, nobles always do, and how better to help us keep an eye on the temperature of the court, than our very own spy?  Our very own Phèdre.”

Odilia’s brows lifted. 

“If she is still free to take patrons, if we do not limit her with exclusivity, think about how they will fall over themselves to try it, to try to prove our bond is tenuous, to try to sow discord.” Corrian’s eyes were bright with the thrill of it. “We challenged them when we named her Companion and Mistress, there will be plenty who will rise to the challenge of it. If she is kept to us and us alone, we lose that chance.”

Odilia glanced at Gustav.  He seemed contemplative, considering this. 

Finally, his eyes lifted to look at her, and she watched the walls crumble slightly as he admitted, “I have wanted you as mine for years, Odilia.  I had selfishly thought that with the new arrangement, you would be. Yet, I am torn.  The king in me sees the merit of what Corrian says.  But…the remnants of my younger self in my heart wants you for mine. What should I choose? The romance that would place Elua’s precept first? To love you and love you as mine? Or the king that must make the decisions that will serve the crown and country? It is hardly fair.”

“It is not,” Odilia agreed quietly. “But it is the choice ahead of us.”

He got up from his desk and paced to his window, hands clasped behind his back as his head bowed to think. Odilia watched him.  He had aged so much even in these last few years.  He was still young yet, not even in the fourth decade of his life, and she could see the start of silver at his temples.

“Very well,” he said at last, sounding weary. “I will not ask for exclusivity. I will, however, ask for transparency.  When you are approached by potential patrons, I want to know who they are before you take them to bed.”

Odilia nodded. That was easy to give. 

There was something slightly bitter in Gustav’s voice when he said, “I am sure the Duc de Chalasse will be pleased that he has not lost you either.”

Corriana glanced at the courtesan.  It was only because she was looking that she saw the flicker of pain in the corners of her eyes before her face returned to the serene mask of all adepts of the Night Court. It was easy for the young king to feel threatened by someone like Roland de Chalasse, established and powerful as he was.  To have the same man also enjoying the favor of the woman Gustav loved? It could very well breed some dangerous resentment. 

“Will you tell him yourself?” Gustav asked quietly, clearly ready to hear the worst. 

“No,” Odilia said calmly, rising to her feet. “He will find out with all of the rest of them.  After the contract is signed.”

She gave a small curtsy to the king that also included the still seated queen and said, “I will return in a few days with a representative of the Night Court to discuss final details and draw up the details of the contract. Excuse me, Your Majesties.”

Only once Odilia was gone did Corrian rise and cross to her husband, laying a hand on his arm and looking up into his sad face.  “Gustav, you could have asked her to be yours. You had that right.”

“No, I didn’t,” he said softly. “I couldn’t limit her.”

“She would have done it.  For you, she would have done it.”

“I know,” he said, blinking away the tears glittering in the corner of his Courcel blue eyes. “I hoped that when we made our arrangement, that it would have changed something.  But I know who she is, I can’t make her change that.  It was the dream of a romantic, lovesick boy. I need to be the king I am now.  That means making the choices that will break my heart, for the good of the crown.  She told me that, years ago, as we talked through the night.  All I can hope for now is balance.”

“You’re not alone,” Corrian reminded her husband softly, resting her head on his shoulder. “I know the love you have for me is different than what you have for her, but I am still here.”

“I know,” he said, sliding his arm around her waist and resting his cheek on the top of her head. “Thank you, Corrian.”

“You’re welcome, Gustav.”