Tag: Aliksandria

Storyline: A Discovery at Cereus House

Petrea’s head hurt. If she was being honest, her entire body ached. She felt as though she had been tied to the chair in Aliks’s office for the last several months. Perhaps this was how Valerian adepts felt when they were practicing bondage…but without the pleasure. Her Dowayne had been so overcome with grief at the sudden and violent death of her lover that she had been all but absent from Cereus House. And when Aliks had been physically present in the house, she haunted its halls like a spirit. 

It was not that Petrea begrudged her best friend time to mourn Waldemar. Her heart was not only broken on behalf of Aliks, but a little on her own behalf. Waldemar was both a highly respected member of the Night Court and frequent visitor to Cereus House, and over the years, Petrea had become fond of him. Though he and Aliks made an unlikely couple, they complimented each other, and he made Aliks happy. And there was nothing Petrea wanted more than for her friend to be happy.

But, in the absence of a Dowayne, it was the duty of the Second to take on the duties of managing the House. So, much to her dismay, Petrea had been thrust into exactly the position she had feared when Aliks first mentioned a babe: that of Dowayne. In addition to overseeing the entirety of the social aspects of the House, with which Petrea was intimately familiar, there were the incomes and expenses to account, the correspondences to write, and the contracts to manage. Petrea did not know how Aliks kept everything organized in her head while still maintaining relationships and taking on patrons. Every night, Petrea dropped into her bed exhausted, only to be woken in the early morning hours to begin it all again. She thanked Blessed Elus that she had Amie. Amie had stepped in when she, herself, had taken leave of the House two years prior, and Amie’s executive skills had been invaluable then just as they were now. The two had huddled together over accounting books and schedules, menus and letters. Amie was the only thing preventing Petrea from bursting into tears and curling on the floor in a tiny ball like a child.

Petrea rubbed her eyes, the candle burning low. She guessed it must be close to midnight. Everything was silent, save for the sounds a house makes when no one is awake. She wished not to be awake herself, but one cannot always have what one wished. She sighed and stretched her arms above her head.

She heard the swish of skirts and shuffle of slippers on the floor and looked up to see Aliks step through the door. Her face was drawn and gaunt, and dark circles swelled beneath her eyes. Aliks had lost no small amount of weight in the months following Waldemar’s death, and Petrea frowned to see her friend’s gown hanging off her withering frame. Aliks had not even bothered to have her clothing retailored.

“Good evening, Aliks. I am so pleased to see you up and about.” Petrea gave her friend a wide smile. Though she did not like the look of her friend, she was nonetheless happy to see her.

Aliks smiled wanly in return and dropped wearily onto the settee across from the desk, sighing. “It is far past evening, Petrea.”

“I am quite aware, dearest, but you know as well as I do that a Night Court House does not actually ever sleep.” Aliks hummed in agreement. “Are you hungry? Shall we sneak to the kitchens and fetch a bite like we used to do?”

“I could do with something small. Do you know if the cooks have any of the pickled herring in the pantry? I have been absolutely tortured with cravings for it of late.” Aliks gave a small chuckle. “It seems I cannot get enough.”

Petrea shuddered and made a face. “Pickled herring? How can you eat that? It is disgusting! I could never stomach it.” She paused. “And neither could you, for that matter. Why the sudden desire for it?”

Aliks lifted her shoulders. “I know now, only that it is the only thing I wish to eat.”

Petrea gave her friend a soft look. “I suppose grief does strange things to the body.”

Aliks nodded, tears springing to her eyes. Petrea stood quickly from her chair and moved to sit next to her friend. She put her arm around Aliks and pulled them close. Aliks leaned into Petrea’s side and allowed Petrea to stroke her hair. It was a complete turnaround from the roles they most often played, with Aliks comforting Petrea. 

“I cannot seem to wake up from this, Petrea. My body craves sleep, and even when I wake, I am still tired.”

“You have been through something terrible. It would seem to me that it is not odd that your body wishes for rest.”

“But it is not simply sleep I crave. As I said, I am eating this pickled herring that I formerly could not stand. And it seems that is the only thing I can eat.”

“We all grieve in our own ways, love.” Petrea soothed.

Aliks looked at Petrea, her eyes full of tears. Petrea could not remember a time she had seen Aliks cry. It was distressing to her. Aliks played absently with the threads on her gown. “I am sick with grief, Petrea. I cannot hold food in my belly, and scents make me ill.” Aliks gave a sniffle.

Petrea nodded, looking closely at her friend. “I wondered why we no longer had the roses you so love in the halls. I thought it was perhaps simply out of respect…” Petrea trailed off, something tickling the back of her mind. She reached for the thought as the two women sat in the quiet office.

“What am I to do without him, Petrea?” Aliks whispered in a voice so unlike her own. 

The tickling thought in the back of her mind slammed front and center, causing Petrea to gasp aloud. The exhaustion. The cravings. The illness. The overwhelming emotions. Could it be?

“Aliks,” she said carefully. “You and Waldemar lit a candle to Eisheth before he died, did you not?”

Aliks’s body stiffened and she pulled back from her friend. “Yes. We did,” she answered, her eyes going wide.

“Do you think,” Petrea said, her mind churning. “Do you think, Aliks, that you might be with child?”

“With child?” Aliks gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise.

“Well, yes. You crave foodstuffs you hate. You have been physically ill. Scents you love make your stomach turn. You cannot sleep enough to feel rested.”

“Oh.” Aliks’s face went blank.

“I think, my dear.” Petrea put a steadying hand on Aliks’s arm. “That is is time we call an Eisande chirgeon.”

~

Petrea took Aliks to bed immediately and lay with her throughout the night. The next morning, the chirgeon was summoned, and Petrea’s suspicions confirmed: the Dowayne of Ceres House was, indeed, with child. 

Storyline: A Fallen Mandrake

Officially, Mandrake House closed its doors for three days of mourning. Unofficially, it would be more than a week before the adepts began entertaining patrons again. For two days after Waldemar nó Mandrake’s passing, Aliksandria was inconsolable. She shut herself in her room and refused all food. On the third day, she emerged in a black gown and attended his funeral.

At the funeral, Aliks sat next to Dowayne Kali nó Mandrake, in the seat usually reserved for the deceased’s wife. She had no legal claim to it, as they were not married and had not even declared each other consorts, and yet no one begrudged her the space of closest family member. The service was overseen by Priests of Elua, as was customary. Afterwards, when everyone left, Aliks stayed in her seat. Only Petrea remained, supporting her oldest friend.

As dusk began to settle, Aliks rose and looked at Petrea. “You should go to Mandrake House, give Cereus’s regards.”

“What? I should go? Where are you going?” Petrea asked, shocked.

“There is somewhat I need to do, and I must do it alone,” replied Aliks, and she left, walking to the carriage and leaving.

Aliks didn’t go to Mandrake House. If she had she would have seen her lover’s flogger laid on a silken cushion in his honor. She would have heard the adepts talk with grim merriment about their lost friend. Likely, she would have been deep in her cups, and she certainly wouldn’t have been alone in that.

No, Aliks went to the Yeshuite quarter.

Her carriage pulled up in front of the Yeshiva, and she bid the driver remain. He was in service to Cereus House and would, of course, never leave the Dowayne stranded.

When she rapped upon the door, a young boy answered it. His eyes grew big upon seeing her, and while she was wearing a modest gown, she knew it was modest by D’Angeline standards not Yeshuite ones.

“I am looking for Esther Negron, do you know her?” she asked the boy, and he quickly nodded then opened the door further to let her in.

She stepped into a small hallway and was directed to sit upon a very uncomfortable bench as the boy left through a different door. She sat there for what felt like an eternity, though it was likely only half of an hour before the door opened, and the Rebbe appeared.

He was a man of middle years with a beard only slightly streaked with gray and a sour look on his face. Clearly, he was not happy about having a Servant of Naamah appear on his doorstep. Nevertheless, hospitality demanded he permit her entrance and curiosity prodded him forward.

He opened the door to permit Aliks into what appeared to be an office of sorts. Seated in one chair was a woman of elder years, eyes downcast. Aliks took one of the other chairs unprompted, followed by the Rebbe.

“Why are you looking for Esther,” he asked coldly.

Aliks looked at him and said, “that I can tell only her.”

The Rebe nodded toward the woman, and Aliks addressed her in Aragonian. “Señora Negron, I am her to talk to you about your son.”

The woman raised her head and looked Aliks square in the eyes. “I speak D’Angeline, girl,” she spat in D’Angeline. “And I do not wish to speak of my son. He made his choices, and I have made mine. Until the day he repents his sin, leaves your goddess’s service, and returns to the One God, I will not speak of him.”

“Señora, I am very sorry to say, but I have come from his funeral. Your son is no longer with us.”

Tears fell down Esther’s face, and she wrung her hands for many minutes. “You loved him.” She said it as a statement not a question.

“I did, Señora.”

Esther stood and turned to leave then paused at the door. “Are you one of her Servants too? Like him?”

“I am, Señora,” Aliks replied.

“And does it bring shame to your family too?” Esther spat.

Aliks sat up straighter in her chair, which was equally as uncomfortable as the bench had been. “My family has been in Naamah’s service for generations, both my parents before me and my grandparents before them serve her. It brings them pride.”

With that, Esther left, and then the Rebbe addressed her. “You have delivered your message, do not come here again.” And she was shown out.

On the ride home, Aliks shed all the tears she had been holding back. She grieved for her lost lover and for his mother too. It had been a thing of great trust that he had even told her where to find his mother. Though his choices had grieved his mother so, they brought joy and pride to Aliksandria and to the others who were fortunate enough to call him family.

Storyline: A Candle in the Night

The decision was made. Aliks had talked to nearly every person of import to her. She had called upon Count Shahrizai, Manuel from the Cassiline Brotherhood, Petrea, even her parents.

Count Shahrizai had told her that she was strong and would do well regardless of her choice. That, while he had never expected her to become a mother, he could see her being a great one. In the end though, he had no opinion nor advice on her choice.

Manuel had written a lengthy letter back, reminding her that while both their lives had been chosen for them by their parents, they loved their paths. He also took care to point out that crofters’ children usually became crofters, and merchants’ children usually grew up to become merchants, so how was her profession any different (a decidedly un-Cassiline thing to say)? His final statement was that his only regret in his path was his lack of children and advised her to have them.

Petrea, on the other hand, had been furious. First, because Aliks had not told her first (though the reason she had not was because she wanted to be sure before she involved her Second). Second, because she feared for her friend. An adept from Gentian House had passed in the child bed not a year gone by, and they had both gone to her funeral. Finally, she had reminded her that every child at Cereus House was Aliks’s child. It was part of the Dowayne’s duty to guide the children under her care.

Her parents, having retired from Naamah’s service and taken up a residence in the city, told her what it was like raising a child in the Night Court. They shared their challenges of living in different Houses and how her father had made a point to visit his child twice a week, at least until her marque was sold. It was not easy, they said, to be a parent and a Servant of Naamah, but it was emphatically worth it to them. They left her with the reminder that the choice was hers alone, but help and advice would always be available from their home.

Aliksandria sent a missive to Mandrake House, requesting an assignation with Waldemar at the Shahrizai hunting estate outside the city. Count Niklos had been kind enough to offer it. This was a conversation she wanted to have away from Mont Nuit.

The day arrived, and with it early snows. They arrived at the manor separately, Waldemar arriving about an hour before Aliksandria. They greeted each other warmly then went to the sitting room to talk.

A large fire was roaring in the hearth when Aliksandria pulled the single beeswax taper in its box from her cloak. She looked at him expectantly, his face was schooled to stillness, but she knew his mind must be racing.

“There is a Temple to Eisheth in the city,” she said softly, “but I wanted to do this alone with you.”

Carefully she took a twig and ignited it from the fire, then lit the candle. She sank to her knees abeyante and began the prayer. Though it was one she had learned years ago, she had never said it before, but her voice held true, and her words did not falter.

They honored Naamah as only a pair of her Servants could, in front of the roaring fire as the candle melted. Their union blessed by both goddesses.

——

As they had arrived in separate carriages, they needs must leave the same way. But Waldemar gave her a departing kiss and assured her he would call upon Cereus House tomorrow.

A funny thing it was. Aliks was a Servant of Naamah and had lain with many a patron, and Waldemar more than any of them. Yet that night in the hunting lodge felt different, and she was giddy as a schoolgirl about it.

Aliks owed it to Petrea to tell her first, so when she got back to Cereus House she summoned her friend and Second to her office. It was during that conversation that the footman burst in.

“What on earth is the meaning of this?” Aliksandria demanded, rising from her chair.

“My lady Dowayne, I am so sorry, word has come from Mandrake House. Master Waldemar’s carriage overturned in the snow. He did not make it.”

Storyline: An Argument at Cereus House

Petrea stormed into Aliksandria’s private sitting room where the Dowayne was having tea with Aimee nó Cereus, the unofficial Third of the House.

“Well,” Petrea demanded angrily, “is it done? Have you done it yet?”

Aliks looked up from her cup and gave her Second a bland look. “What are you stamping in here, interrupting my tea with Aimee to yell at me about?”

Petrea huffed out a sigh and crossed her arms over her chest. She took a deep breath and turned to Aimee. “Aimee, I apologize for the interruption. Could you please excuse the Dowayne and me for a few moments? I have some business I must discuss with her in private.”

Aimee looked from one woman to the other, confusion coloring her gentle features. She rose gracefully. “I shall be in my office should anyone need me,” she said, shaking her head and retreating from the room, closing the door behind her.

Petrea gave Aliks a heavy glare and spoke through gritted teeth. “Have you lit the candle to Eisheth?”

Aliks calmly placed her teacup on its saucer and motioned for Petrea to sit. Petrea shook her head. Aliks rolled her eyes. “No. It is not done. I have yet to make a final decision about a babe.”

Petrea let out a small sigh of relief, a bit of tension leaving her shoulders. “Well, I suppose that’s a small comfort. At least I found out about it before you went ahead and began your conception.” Aliks looked at her in confusion. “Aliks, you are considering a child, and I find out about it from overhearing initiates gossiping in their beds! Why was I not one of the first to know? Why did you not speak to me before this monumental, life changing decision”—She threw her arms out to the sides— “reached the gossiping adepts?”

Aliks looked taken aback and pressed a hand to her breast. “The adepts know of this? But, how? I have only spoken to two…no, three people know. You were to be the next.” She frowned, her brows knitting. “Someone on Niklos’s staff must have overhead and opened their foolish mouths. No one in the Cassiline Brotherhood would tell tales, and certainly Waldemar and I have been discreet in our discussions…”

Petrea had begun pacing the room. “Really Aliks?! Your concern is who told whom? This is a serious consideration. Having a child? Are you mad? How could you even contemplate this? How could you do this? To the House? To me?”

“To you?” Aliks replied indignantly. “My having a child has nothing to do with you, Petrea.”

“Does it not? Would you not retire from the Night Court to raise the babe, leaving me as Dowayne?” Petrea arched an eyebrow.

Aliks looked at her in confusion. “Well, of course not. I have no intention of retiring as Dowayne, and I am shocked you would even consider such a silly notion.” She waved a hand dismissively. “We would raise the child in the Night Court. Just as I was. It’s a common enough practice. The child would live here at Cereus House until it was old enough to be adopted into the appropriate House, at which time, we would sell its marque to that House. Or, Waldemar could retire from the Night Court and raise the child in the City—again, if I choose to have said child. A choice, I will remind you, I have not yet made.”

“And you would, what, be a half-time Dowayne?” Petrea’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Don’t you dare take the tone with me,” Aliks snapped. “You know very well that I would never neglect my duties here, and besides, is it not your responsibility as Second to step in where I cannot? And did I not allow you an entire year to go gallivanting around with your Marco? So, do not speak to me of being a half anything, Petrea.”

Petrea looked at her feet, chastened by her Dowayne’s words. But there was more to her concerns than just fears of where the child would be raised. “What of the risks of carrying and birthing a child?”

Aliks blinked at her. She opened her mouth as though to speak, but no words came out.

Petrea’s words were barely a whisper. “I cannot lose you, Aliks. I simply could not bear it.”

Their eyes met, and some understanding passed between them. “You are not going to lose me, Petrea. I have every intention of being here for quite a long time.”

“But you cannot know that!” Petrea’s voice rose again. “You cannot know what the fates hold for you! And now is not the time to be toying with this, Aliks. There is too much at stake! And I say this not as your friend but as your Second. You are a leader—no, the leader—of the Night Court, and we have just begun to garner respect from the Judiciary again. We cannot afford to look weak or fractured. Our leadership must remain strong and firm. Now is simply not the time to take any risks—any risks at all.” Petrea’s agitation was clear; she had begun pacing the room and her voice grew louder as she spoke.

Aliks sighed. “Petrea. Even if I were—and Blessed Elua, it will not happen—to pass, you would simply step up as Dowayne. You are the Second, and we have been training and preparing for my retirement since we were but children.” She shrugged. “It would merely mean that you would take over sooner than we planned.”

“But Aliks, I don’t think you understand: I do not want to be Dowayne!”

The words hung in the air.

Aliks gaped at her friend.

The two women looked at each other—one shocked, one desperate.

It was Aliks who finally broke the silence, her voice full of confusion. “What do you mean you do not want to be Dowayne? It has always been our plan for you to be Dowayne when I step down. If you do not wish to be Dowayne, what do you plan to do when my tenure is finished, Petrea?”

“I will step down as well.” Petrea’s voice was soft, her eyes on the floor.

“But…I do not understand. We have been working towards this for practically our entire lives. It has always been our dream for you to follow me as Dowayne of Cereus House—”

“No!” Petrea’s eyes blazed as her eyes met Aliks’s. “It has been your dream. Your plan. And I have but followed along. I have followed you all these years.”

“But…why?”

“The first night I was here. Do you not remember? I was crying and you approached me. You told me that you were going to be Dowayne. You informed me that I was going to be your Second. And ever since that night, I have been by your side, following you.”

Aliks gritted her teeth. “Drying your tears for one night does not indenture you to me for your entire life. You make your own choices, Petrea. Do not put this on me.”

Petrea sank into one of the soft chairs across from Aliks. When she spoke, her voice was gentle, almost pleading. “I know. I know. I do not mean to say that I blame you. And I would not change our lives for anything, Elua knows.” She looked around the room as if something would give her the answers she sought. “It’s just…how could I follow you as Dowayne? Even as a child, I knew that I did not have your leadership abilities, your charisma, your ability to think on your feet. I am not you. I cannot be Dowayne, Aliks.” Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked hard to keep them from spilling.

“Oh Petrea. You can absolutely be Dowayne. And regardless of what choice I make, one day you will.” She gave her friend a small smile. “But that day will not come any time soon.”

Storyline: An Old Friend’s Advice

It was shortly after sun set when Dowayne Aliksandria’s carriage arrived at the Shahrizai town house. The hostler took charge of her carriage, horses, and driver while a servant with downcast eyes led her in to the dining room.

Dinner was amazing, as always.  Each course more delicious than the last. And the company – well how does one describe dinner with a dear friend? Aliks had known Count Niklos Shahrizai for many years. They met when she was still making her marque.  She had been cast as the Winter Queen in the Longest Night Masque the same year he was selected to be the Sun Prince. Later, he contracted her as a patron and their friendship had never faded.

“My lord, please send my compliments to your chef.” She said, dabbing her lips with the silk napkin.

“And your usual marriage proposal?’ he asked with a smirk, gesturing a servant to deliver the message.

“Not this time, my lord.”

“Oh?’ he said, his eyebrows raising a bit, “Was the dinner not as good as usual?’

“Oh no, if anything she appears to have out done herself yet again, but there is something I wish to discuss with you that may affect my ability to wed.”

“I am intrigued.”

“My lord,” she began, “you and I have known each other a great many years and I would like to think that, as such, we have developed a certain familiarity with each other,  In that vein, I would ask if I may speak frankly with you this evening?”

“Aliks, please, say what it is you wish to say, you know we don’t suffer on pretense betwixt us.”

She smiled, looked down, took a deep breath then began, “I have been, for some time, engaging in a clandestine affair with Waldemar nó Mandrake.”

Count Niklos nearly choked on the wine he was drinking as the laughter took hold of him, “That is the least clandestine of affairs my lady.”

“Well, that may be true, but I have to at least pretend it’s a secret.  After all, what would it look like for the Dowayne of Cereus House to be going to Mandrake to be tied up and whipped?” she said indignantly.

“I trust that’s not all you do there,” he said with a smirk.

“Well, as it happens, Waldemar has asked me to light a candle to Eisheth.”

“Hence no marriage proposal,” he noted.

“Exactly.”

“Congratulations.”

“I haven’t said yes,” she replied.

“Is it your intention to say no?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, I wanted to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

“I think it matters not what I have to say, but what you want, my dear. But since you asked, I think you will make an amazing mother. Elua knows you’ve raised enough adepts in Cereus House. But in all the time we’ve known each other, I’ve never heard you express any interest in children of your own.”

“Both of those things are true and I worry about if and how my life would change once I had a child. I have worked very hard to get where I am. I do not wish to give it up.”

“A lady can do both,” he pointed out.

“But can this lady?”

“This lady stood up to the City Judiciary. I don’t know if there is aught this lady cannot do.”

Storyline: A Chance Encounter Not by Chance

She was sick of him. Blessed Elua help her, she was sick and tired of him. He was too loud, too bawdy, and was drinking far too much of her wine. Worst of all, he was monopolizing her Second.

Aliksandria nó Cereus had decided that, somehow, she needed to get rid of this Don Ramiro. He was an inappropriate patron for any Cereus adept, but particularly for the Second. Regardless of what Petrea might claim, she was certainly not putting in enough work to earn this “plaything.” So, Aliks had devised a plan that she was sure would remove this…distraction…and get Petrea back to work.

Marco Meridius, Petrea’s long time lover, had returned to the City of Elua days before and was spending the evening with her. Don Ramiro was off doing Elua knows what he did with his time when he wasn’t hanging about her House. Petrea had specifically told Ramiro that she was unavailable for the evening, but Aliks had invited him to drop in. She was positive that his Aragonian pride would not be able to endure seeing Petrea and Marco together. Oh, Ramiro knew that Petrea had other patrons, but actually encountering it? That would be unbearable for him. Aliks was certain that he would cause a ruckus, maybe even become violent? And that would allow her to ban him from Cereus House, as she had sworn to do weeks before. He had managed his behavior thus far, mostly at Petrea’s behest, but Aliks was sure that this would be too much for him.

*

Petrea nó Cereus and Marco sat in the lush gardens of Cereus House, curled up on a chaise and speaking in low tones. It had been months since they had been together and Petrea was relieved to be back in his arms. No matter how many other patrons she might take and how much she might enjoy their company, her heart, at its core, belonged to Marco. She could never be his wife and could never leave the Night Court, but she could not imagine a life without him in it.

She leaned back against him and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of the summer flowers blooming in the gardens as she listened to Marco’s voice in her ear. He had been quietly regaling her with stories of his travels from Menekhet through Caerdicca Unitas. Menekhet! She could hardly imagine just how far away that was. Marco’s trading took him all over the world; she had seen but a fraction of it on her journey with him. It amazed her how he slid so easily from one country to the next, seeming to fit into every culture as though he had been born to it. She was so caught up in his story of a parrot trader that she almost didn’t hear the voices coming from the hallway.

“…believe she’s in the gardens. Please come with me and we’ll see if she’s there.”

It was Aliks’s voice coming closer. But who was with her? Aliks knew how much Petrea and Marco wanted their privacy. Who could possibly be so important that she would interrupt them?

“Aliks,” she said, seeing her Dowayne come through the doorway, “what is it that merits this interr…” she trailed off as she realized who followed Aliks through this doorway.

It was Ramiro. But what was he doing here? She had informed him that she was unavailable this evening and he had made plans to go to Balm House. Why had he changed his plans? Why had Aliks brought Ramiro into the garden and not simply turned him away? One patron did not interrupt another and certainly not these two patrons. Something was terribly wrong with this situation.

Petrea looked from one to the other in confusion. Aliks smiled blandly at her, but Petrea caught something flash in her eyes for the briefest of moments. Was it…triumph? What was going on here?

Marco rose from the couch, disentangling himself from Petrea. She stood behind him, unsure what to do with herself.

“Ramiro,” he said casually, “it has been so long. A year? Longer, perhaps?”

Petrea again looked at Aliks as Ramiro strode towards Marco. Again, Aliks gave her a blank look.

“Marco!” Ramiro threw out his arms, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Mi amigo! It has been too long!”

Marco laughed and the two men embraced like childhood friends. “Ah Ramiro, you are right, it has been too long! I meant to visit you, but my travels have not taken me through Aragonia. I am so pleased that we happen to be here together. What a surprise!”

Marco returned Ramiro’s grin as they clapped each other on the back.

Petrea was certain she caught a look of shock and, perhaps, disappointment? cross Aliks’s face. Clearly, this was not at all what Aliks had expected – had she wanted something different? It was, however, exactly what Petrea had expected.

Ramiro and Marco had met the past year when Petrea had arranged for lodgings on Ramiro’s estate during their travels. He had agreed to house them in exchange for a night with her. Marco had been neither surprised nor perturbed at the Marqués’s request. She was, after all, a Servant of Naamah and he was well aware that she took other patrons. During their time in Aragonia, the two men had discovered they had common interests and became friends, promising to write and visit each other.

“Ramiro, I am surprised to see you. I thought you were going to Balm House tonight.” Petrea said mildly, giving him the kiss of greeting.

He shrugged. “I heard you might receive me should I stop in.” He gave her a grin. “And you know I am always pleased when you receive me.”

He winked suggestively.

Nexto to them, Marco snorted. “Eh? Been receiving you often, has she?”

“But, of course! Dolce Petrea is always eager to deepen her connections with her favorite patrons. And I’ve connected quite deeply with her.”

He licked his lips lasciviously.

Marco chuckled. “Hungry, Ramiro?”

“Starving! Always! And the dessert here is quite delicious.” Ramiro gave Marco a sly look.

The two roared with laughter.

Aliks cleared her throat loudly.

“Don Ramiro, perhaps we should leave these two to their evening?” she said tersely.

Marco glanced at Petrea, who gave him a tiny shrug.

“Nonsense! We have plenty of time to ourselves. Please join us for some wine, Ramiro. We can catch up.”

Petrea swore she caught a flash of annoyance on Aliks’s face, but couldn’t be sure. What on Earth was happening with her? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Por supuesto! I would love to catch up with you. Lady Aliks, bring us more wine! You know which one I prefer!”

“Aliks, could you please ask a servant to bring us more wine,” Petrea requested. “Whatever we have fully stocked would be perfect.” She gave Aliks a placating smile, knowing that Ramiro’s declaration was not received well.

“I have to have someone check. Our inventory has not been completed recently.” She gave Petrea, whose job it was to oversee the audits, an intentional look. “And many, many bottles of that vintage have been served recently.”

Turning back towards the hallways, she gave Marco a brief nod. “Marco, a pleasure as always.”

*

Aliks clenched her fists and gritted her teeth.

Her plan had failed. Spectacularly.

They were friends?! How could that blasted Aragonian scoundrel be friends with Marco?! How could kind, caring, and intelligent Marco be friends with that foolish cad?! It was just unfathomable!

Storming down the hall, she nearly knocked over a young adept carrying bed linens.

“Oh excuse me, my lady Dowayne!” he yelped, jumping out of her way.

“Get some wine to the patrons in the garden! I don’t care what, just something!” she snapped.

“Y-y-yes, milady,” he stammered, scurrying off.

Aliks stomped into the kitchen and headed towards the back door. A shocked cook looked up from chopping vegetables as Aliks flew through the room.

“My lady! Did you need anything?” she questioned, flustered by the sudden appearance of the obviously annoyed Dowayne.

“No! I’m off to Mandrake House. If anyone needs anything, go bother the Second!”

Storyline: Stitching a Scandal

“We are going to get into so much trouble,” Aliks said, giggling.

“Truly? More trouble than for stealing tarts from the kitchen or more trouble than for reading books from the restricted section?” Petrea taunted.

It had been nearly a year since the night she had talked to the crying girl and declared they were now best friends and, even though she had seemed skeptical at the time, Petrea had become just that. This time, however, the game was to see how far they could push their luck.

The initiates were learning embroidery, to practice dexterity. They had been told they could have freedom of expression, but to remember that these would be put on cushions for the salons. The idea had been Aliksandria’s at first, but Petrea had been the one to bring it to fruition. When Petrea showed Aliks the sketch, both girls burst into fits of laughter. But they embroidered the designs nonetheless.

Aliksandria was shocked when the Second looked at their work and declared their stitching to be fine and their use of florals in blues to be elegant. Petrea had actually held her breath. They had to see it, right? But either way the cushions were made.

It was almost another year later when they were summoned to the Dowayne’s office to be dressed down. As it turned out, no one had noticed, until an eagle-eyed and bored patron looked too closely at the cushions. Rumor was he laughed uproariously and told the Dowayne he was honored to see Cereus House care so much for their male patrons. It had been then that the Dowayne picked up the cushion, turned it sideways and saw it: a man’s member where the flower stamen should have been.

The Dowayne glared at the two girls who stood in her office. They tried to appear contrite, but struggled to hold their laughter. A year! It had taken almost a full year for anyone to notice their naughty embroidery, prominently displayed in a salon for all to see. Truth be told, they were almost proud of themselves.

“This behavior is absolutely unbecoming of a Cereus adept. Perhaps Orchis House might accept it, but not here,” she snapped. “Now, which one of you is responsible for this idea? Who is the troublemaker?”

Aliks took a deep breath and managed to speak over her friend who was about to confess. “It was my idea. We are Servants of Naamah, after all, my lady, and is there not beauty in the human form?”

Next to her, Petrea was biting her lip to keep from laughing at Aliks’s blithe tone.

“The celebration of our bodies is one thing, but this is mockery. It is beneath us. We must hold ourselves to a high standard here.” She looked pointedly at Aliks. “I know you have ambition, Aliksandria, and if you want to rise to prominence, you cannot engage in such childish nonsense!”

At this, all humor seemed to drain from the room. Aliks wanted nothing more than to become Dowayne of Cereus House someday. She and Petrea were, perhaps, old enough now for their behavior to be noted. She was being warned.

Next to her, Petrea cleared her throat, glancing at her friend. She had come to the same conclusion. “What Aliks says is true, but we do now understand how our…work…could be seen as a mockery. We both truly do regret our actions and we see that such behavior is below our station.” She paused. “Thank you for your guidance, my lady.”

The Dowayne nodded once and then looked at each girl, meeting their eyes. “You must take care. Now, take your leave.”

Want to stitch your own scandals? Click the links below for Petrea and Aliks’s embroidery patterns.

Phallus

Naamah’s Pearl

Storyline: Petrea’s First Night at Cereus House

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.”

Storyline: A Cereus Letter

From the desk of Dowayne Aliksandria nó Cereus
To: Manuel Cass’id, First Under-Prefect of the Cassiline Order

My dear friend,

It has been far too long since I have written to you and, for that, I am deeply sorry. I could tell you of the trials of the Night Court that have kept me busy, but you likely have heard about them already even if such gossip is, as you used to insist, beneath the dignity of a Cassiline brother.

Events of late have prompted me to think on the past and the paths that one might take. I value your advice and candor, and I am writing you now to ask your thoughts on a particular situation.

As you may well remember, I have been known to be fond of the company of Waldemar nó Mandrake. You were observing Cassiel’s vigil the night I met him, but often I have spoken of his charms to you. Though we have not declared each other consorts, we find ourselves quite devoted to each other. Recently, he made me quite the request of me and asked that I light a candle to Eisheth for us. It is on this subject I seek your counsel.

For one in my position, the choice to have a child brings a great many questions. My parents continued to work as Servants of Naamah after I was born, but neither was a Dowayne. Would I be able to continue in my duties if I became a mother? Would I want to?

I was born to the Night Court, my mother was born to it, and hers before her. And yet, I wonder, do I want a child of mine to be born to the same life? If the answer is no, does that mean I judge my parents for their choices? And if I say yes, what then does that say? Like me, your life was chosen for you as a child and I wonder if you would choose the same for your own offspring were you allowed that choice for them?

This weighs heavily on me, as I suppose it should. A decision this impactful should not be made easily. I eagerly await your thoughts on the subject, my oldest friend.

Aliksandria nó Cereus
Dowayne of Cereus House

Storyline: A Cereus Bud?

“Summer parties might really be where Cereus house shines,” thought Aliks.
The flowers were in full bloom and their perfume was intoxicating in the garden. This had been the first event that Petrea had helped plan since her return and she could tell that Aimee was finally relaxing back into her old self.
Not that she wanted to ruin Aimee‘s reverie, but Petrea’s absence had made some things incredibly obvious, so Aliks walked over to Aimee.
“Aimee my dear, I know last year was challenging for you and I do not think either Petrea nor I want a situation like that to ever happen again. The truth is that I’m not immortal and one day someone will have to be Dowayne after me, and Second after Petrea. I would like to think that you would come after her and I would like to know if you would consent to begin shadowing her and learning a Second’s craft.”
Aimee mulled it over. “May I have some time to think it over?”
Aliks smiled and said, “Of course, this is not a decision that needs to be made today.”
Aliks continued to wonder through the garden party, smiling at this patron and that adept, enjoying overhearing the gossip and nibbling on small dainties. “Truly, this is Naamah’s Service at its height,” she mused.
She was walking past a group of adepts from Cereus and Heliotrope house and patrons when she over heard a man comment on Cereus house’s choice to continue to use silver platters for its fêtes.
“Oh no, my lord,” she said, feigning distaste, “this is not silver. In fact there is no silver in this garden at all. If you notice all the adepts are wearing gold finery today, and what you mistook for a silver platter is actually a new material called aluminum.” She waved a server over and asked for the platter he held then held it out to the patron.
“See how light it is, my lord, no silver platter could possibly be so light.”
The patron took the platter and his face took on a momentary look of shock, “By Elua, it’s as if it were made of parchment. Where did you acquire such a thing?”
The Dowayne smiled, happy to flaunt her find, “The silk dyers my lord, thought their method of refining and manufacturing the material was a closely guarded secret.” With that she returned the platter to the server, thanked him and continued to weave through the guests.
“Very nicely done,” a voice whispered in her ear. Aliks turned to find her lover, Waldemar nó Mandrake and gave him the kiss of greeting.
Their affair was something of an open secret, as it was unseemly for the Dowayne of Cereus house to go be flogged at Mandrake, but Elua had said “love as thou wilt.” And she did love him, so no one begrudged her the affair.
“I didn’t think you would make it,” she noted.
He smiled, and inclined his head toward a tall woman with dark hair. “My Dowayne requested an escort.”
“Of course she did.”
“Have you a moment to talk?” He asked, uncharacteristically shy.
“For you, I have several.”
The two of them walked to a niche at the far end of the garden. They did not touch as they walked, but the string between them felt so strong she was certain all could see it.
“Aliks, I love you. I did not want to have this conversation until things were settled with your Second, but Petrea has returned and I feel it is time. You have achieved everything you ever told me you wanted. You are Dowayne. You are a pearl among courtesans, and Cereus House and the Night Court shine brightly. But there is something I have always wanted for my life that I have yet to achieve.”
He pulled out a parcel and handed it to her. She gently opened it to find a single beeswax taper on a silk cloth.
“I want to have a child with you.”