Petrea nó Cereus awoke to the sound of voices, or rather, a voice, speaking animatedly on the other side of her bed chamber. Struggling to come to full consciousness, she attempted to focus on the voice and determine just who was prattling on so early in the morning. It must be early if she was this tired, mustn’t it?
Opening her eyes, Petrea realized that it was not, in fact, early but rather, quite late. Bright sun streamed through the windows and a half-eaten breakfast lay on a table. She sat up and took in the room – torn clothing strewn about, furniture knocked over, items from her desk swept haphazardly onto the floor.
Ah, yes.
Ramiro.
She smiled to herself and turned to see her visitor. Don Ramiro Pascual de Soria y Borja, the Marqués of Almazan, was strutting about the bedchamber, nary a stitch of clothing on, chattering – to her apparently – about the previous night’s dinner. In Petrea’s mind, he had been something of a disaster. It did not appear the Marqués had the same impression.
“…have him exactly where I want him.” Ramiro cocked an eyebrow at her and grinned. “These soft D’Angeline noblemen just don’t know how to handle a strong Aragonian negotiator.”
Petrea made a noncommittal sound.
“And that Odilia! I think she was quite taken with me, no?” He raised his eyebrows at Petrea, looking for confirmation.
She struggled not to laugh at him. “It was an interesting conversation, to be certain.”
He looked thoughtful. “I shall call on her the next time I come here. She would enjoy a night with me.”
He sauntered over and sat down next to her on the bed. “Of course, I shall call on you as well. For I would enjoy that.”
She smiled coyly as he leaned down to nuzzle her neck. Perhaps they had a little more time this morning.
As her hands reached for him, the door swung open and Aliksandria nó Cereus strode in.
“Sleeping in this morning, are we, Petrea?”
“It was a late night, Aliks,” Petrea replied lazily. She was the Second of Cereus House, not a beginning adept. She could lounge with a patron if she pleased. “A…busy one.”
Ramiro leaned back on his elbows and smirked at Aliks, absently trailing his fingers against Petrea’s leg.
The Dowayne rolled her eyes. “You are certainly more than welcome to…” She took in the condition of the room for the first time, a brief look of surprise crossing her face. She cleared her throat before continuing. “…whatever activities you please; that is not my concern. What happens in public during your assignations – as Second of Cereus – however, is my concern.”
Aliks drew herself up to her full height and gave Ramiro a cold, hard stare. “You made quite an impression last night, monsieur. Your drunken, crass behavior has been the talk of the city this morning. I understand that you have been banned from the Aviline Club.”
She glanced quickly at Petrea, then turned a dark look on Ramiro. “Let me be perfectly clear. If you cannot conduct yourself as a gentleman while you are in our city, you will find yourself banned from Cereus House, as well,” she snapped.
With that pronouncement, she swept from the room.
Panic shot through Petrea. No! She couldn’t let Ramiro be banned from Cereus House.
Grabbing a dressing gown, she raced after Aliks.
“Aliks!” she shouted frantically, catching up with her friend in the hallway.
Aliks turned, fire in her eyes, and grabbed Petrea by the arm. Glancing around, she yanked Petrea into a bath chamber and closed the door, unwilling to chastise her Second where prying ears could hear.
“And you!” She whispered harshly, her eyes full of fire. “How could you?”
Dumbfounded, Petrea tried to speak, but no words came out.
“I heard of your behavior last night, as well!” She glared at Petrea, her voice low. “I heard all about your unruly display outside the Club! It’s all over the City! You are the Second of Cereus House, not a lovesick serving girl on Night’s Doorstep!”
Petrea glanced away, unwilling to meet Aliks’s gaze.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have known better. I…I got caught up in the moment. I just…I…” Her muted voice faded to nothing.
“Petrea, you are not Marco’s betrothed and this is not Tiberium! You are the Second of Cereus House and this is the City of Elua! Even more so than any other adept, when you are in public you represent our House! You are Cereus House!” she hissed through gritted teeth.
“I know.” Petrea murmured. “I know, Aliks. I’m sorry. I forgot myself.”
Aliks poked a finger at her. “We cannot have an unruly patron running about the City of Elua with the Second of Cereus House on his arm! It. Is. Simply. Not. Done. If he wants to get drunk and lecherous, fine. But send him to Jasmine or Orchis – he cannot come here, Petrea. He cannot. I don’t care how much you fancy him. We are just getting over one scandal. The Night Court’s standing is tenuous and I–we cannot afford another. We will not survive.”
“I know. I know, Aliks! It is just, just very difficult sometimes, adjusting to being in the City again. Being the Second of Cereus House once more. I was gone for so long.”
Politics. Ultimately, it always came down to politics, Petrea knew.
Aliks sighed, her face softening. She placed a hand on Petrea’s cheek. “I know, love. But you are back now. You are the Second of Cereus House. You made your choice and you must stand by it.”
Petrea nodded silently. What else could she do?
Aliks gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Go back to your patron, my dear. Just promise me you won’t go falling in love with this one, too.” Aliks patted her cheek.
Petrea waved a hand dismissively. “Ramiro? Oh, you have no need to worry about that. I consider these assignations simply a, shall we say, reward for the hard work I do as Second?”
“Given what I saw, it seems a significant reward. Be sure you are earning it, love.” Aliks grasped the door handle, then paused, turning to Petrea. “I shall see you are not disturbed today.”