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.”