Gabriel d’Albon stood in the grand parlor at Heliotrope House, feeling very much out of his depth. His father had died suddenly several months past, and Gabriel only now felt like he was getting his feet under him. His estate was not a large one by any means, and he had spent most of his life preparing to take over the estate, but there had been much that the late Lord d’Albon had insisted on managing himself, so Gabriel still had much to learn when he suddenly taken over last winter. He felt fortunate every day for the Seneschel and other retainers who helped him day and night to keep everything running smoothly.
Now, he finally felt comfortable leaving western Siovale to venture to the City of Elua to visit his father’s—well, his—townhouse. The house was run by a more than competent staff who laughed at his anxiousness, insisting that they had not seen his father in years, and he need not worry about them. They welcomed Gabriel to the City, excited that the young lord had taken it upon himself to visit personally.
There were extended family members in the City, some of whom Gabriel had met over the years, and some who Gabriel had not known existed! One of them was a fun loving distant cousin who insisted that Gabriel join him here at one of the twice monthly fêtes put on at Heliotrope House, high atop Mont Nuit. Gabriel had heard of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers and its skillful and glamorous Servants of Naamah, but it was nothing like he had expected. He had met one or two Servants of Naamah over the years, but they were folks passing through, and he never thought to engage one. It had felt too…formal. He instead found himself in the back fields with the occasional lover or friend. Nothing special, more curious fumblings than anything else.
“So, cousin, have you spotted anyone you want to contract tonight?” Mateo, Gabriel’s cousin, sidled up, a drink in his hand. Mateo was dressed in the finery common to the City, and Gabriel felt shabby and unfashionable in his country clothes. Mateo had assured him that his outfit, the one he wore to the Midwinter celebration at the estate, was perfectly acceptable, but amongst the gowns and velvet vests, Gabriel’s woolen breeches and roughspun cotton shirt made him feel like a bumpkin.
Gabriel took the offered drink and shook his head. It was a fine wine, and it went down smooth. “It’s all very overwhelming, Mateo. I think I might retire to the townhouse,” he said quietly.
“What? No! We just got here!” Mateo gave him a serious look. “Gabriel, I know this is very different from Siovale. But I promise that this is a—” He searched for the right word. “—gentle House. The adepts here are trained in devotion. They are kind.”
Gabriel bobbed his head. He was a lord now, and weren’t lords supposed to do things like this? “Just..please don’t leave me to stand alone?”
Mateo bumped his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry, cousin. I’ll guard you.” He wiggled his eyebrows then sobered. “And besides, if this is too much, we can make go visit Balm House tomorrow and luxuriate in massages with scented oils.” Gabriel had heard of Balm House and its adepts trained in relaxation of the body.
Mateo had dragged him to this fête, insisting that it would be a good introduction to the Night Court. He had explained to Gabriel that Heliotrope adepts treated their patrons as true lovers and not merely playthings or guests at a performance of skills. Gabriel thought that sounded well and good, but the fête was louder and more crowded than he had expected. Guests of all ilk danced and chatted while they drank fine wine and ate fine food. Beautiful adepts—male and female—circled the room with serving platters. Gabriel considered asking to contract with one of them, but not a single one caught his interest.
He stood next to Mateo and scanned the room, trying to gather enough courage to leave the corner where he had stationed himself. From across the room, he caught a glimpse of a head of golden curls turning the corner. The young man turned, and for the briefest of moments, their eyes met. In that instant, the world disappeared, and time seemed to stand still. Gabriel lost himself in the depths of eyes the color of chestnuts in early summer. His throat went dry, and his heart hammered in his breast. A voice—perhaps that of Blessed Elua himself—whispered, Yours.
Just as fast, the moment broke. The beautiful young man smiled shyly and ducked his head. Another man grabbed his arm and pulled him from the room. The world rushed back in on Gabriel. He heard music and chatter of guests, smelled the food and wine, and saw the delightful party in front of him.
“Gabriel, Gabriel?” Mateo shook his shoulder.
“Yes?” He said, his voice wobbly.
“Are you quite alright? You seemed to get lost there for a moment.”
Gabriel shook his head and smiled at Mateo. “Yes. Yes, I am quite alright.” He pointed toward the door where his fair haired angel had disappeared. “Did you see the two young men over there? They just raced out that door. Who are they?” He tried to keep his voice even.
Mateo shrugged. “Probably two adepts of the House. Likely sneaking in. Probably haven’t had their debut yet if they aren’t out here serving.” He gestured to the room and the adepts carrying trays of drinks and canapés.
“How…how would I find out their names?”
Mateo gave him a curious look. “They haven’t had their debut yet. You cannot contract either of them. You understand that, right?”
Gabriel nodded, looking back across the room. “Yes, yes I know. I just…it’s just…Mateo, I must find out who one of those young men is. I think I have fallen in love.” He turned to his cousin, hoping that his gaze conveyed the seriousness of the situation.
Mateo gave him a searching gaze. Then his lips tilted up, and he broke out in uproarious laughter. He pounded Gabriel on the back. “Oh, cousin! This is your first foray into the Night Court! You cannot fall in love now!”
~
Adam nó Heliotrope and Alain nó Heliotrope were not supposed to be at the party. In fact, they—along with the other adepts who had yet to make their debuts—had been specifically instructed to stay in the novice wing that evening. Only adepts actively seeking patrons were permitted to attend and serve at the bimonthly fêtes. But Alain had insisted that no one would notice if they snuck in for just a moment. No one will see us if we peer around the pillar and look! Alain had said earlier. Just one minute, Adam! Don’t you want to see the grandeur! Please. Alain had a way of looking at Adam that made him agree to anything. It had been that way their entire lives. Sometimes they got away with things; sometimes they didn’t.
And that was how Adam found himself hidden behind a pillar, gazing out at the magnificent scene before him. And it was magnificent. Lords and ladies in all their finery danced and mingled gaily, eating and drinking…Alain clutched Adam’s arm, whispering fiercely about how much he wanted to join in, but Adam held him back with a strong hand on Alain’s shoulder. They could not enter that room!
Adam stood in that dark corner, thinking about the time when he would serve the patrons, and wondering when it would feel right. Heliotrope House had no rules about an adept’s age for debut. It was simply a matter of when one decided. Though Adam was approaching twenty, it still did not feel right. He could have gone to Mena at any point and asked to prepare for his debut; he would have felt fine. He was ready…in his mind, but he wanted to feel ready…in his heart. He wanted to feel called. And he hadn’t felt called. It was not right. Yet.
His eyes roved the scene, never settling on any one person. Finally, Alain decided he was finished ogling. “Alright, let’s go back,” he said plaintively. “I’ve seen it.”
“Was it everything you had hoped?” Adam asked drily.
Alain scoffed. “Not really. Maybe. I don’t know. But let’s get back before we are caught.”
They turned to leave, and Adam gave one last scan of the room and was suddenly struck, his feet stuck to the floor. His eyes caught on a man standing at the far corner of the room, almost hiding it seemed. He was tall and broad chested, with a chiseled jaw and short hair the color of deep mahogany and verdant eyes. His simple clothes spoke to a country life, not the usual city dweller.
Adam gasped. His heart clenched, and he felt a deep stirring in his belly. Something in this man drew him. Pulled at him. For the first time in his young life, he…wanted.
He could not move. Could not speak. Could not think. Alain was pulling on his arm, saying something, but Adam could not hear for the rushing in his ears.
The man’s eyes paused, meeting Adam’s, and the floor seemed to fall out from beneath him. He felt the gentle flapping of doves’ wings, and heard a distant whisper—ever so quiet—Yours. It seemed as though an eternity passed as they stared at each other.
Alain pinched him hard, and Adam broke from his reverie. He ducked his head and turned, Alain all but dragging him from the room. He let himself be pulled down the darkened hallway, his mind still a muddle, through hall after hall until they were back in their shared bedchamber. He swayed on his feet.
“Adam! Adam! What’s wrong?” Alain shook his friend’s shoulders and searched his face, voice high with fear.
Adam blinked and gave his friend a serene smile. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong, Alain.”
“Then why do you look drunk?”
“I…I need to speak to Mena.” He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Alain, it’s time. I am ready.”
Alain looked baffled. “Ready? Ready for what?”
“I’m ready to make my debut.”