Odilia
It was not the sunlight kissing her face that woke her gently, it was the soft kisses of her lover. In the start of this shortest day, he was not the King of Terre d’Ange, he was only Gustav, and she was not the Second of Dahlia House, she was only Odilia. Wrapped together in each other’s arms, this was precious time. All the most precious for how brief it was.
He looked at her, his Courcel blue eyes looking deep into her brown ones, and he stroked her cheek. She leaned her forehead against his and let her arm drape around his waist. Nothing needed to be said. They had fought too hard to get to where they were now not to appreciate the peaceful morning for what it was.
When finally they rose, he helped her into her dressing gown. She did the same for him, a quiet kind of reserved intimacy, and accepted his hand to join him for the breakfast laid in his solar. Fresh oranges and pomegranates were presented in a bowl along with the warm, crusty bread with goat cheese and honey. A pot of warm lemon water sweetened with honey was set on a warmer.
“So much citrus and honey,” Odilia said warmly, letting him serve her with his own hands. “Is this a hint from your staff? Will you be the Sun Prince at the palace masque tonight?”
“Not as far as I know,” Gustav laughed lightly. “The Master of Revels has seen to all the details, I know very little about what is planned for tonight.”
The footman entered and announced the arrival. “Her Majesty, Queen Corrian,” followed shortly by Corrian herself, dressed in a simple day dress of pale green.
She beamed at her two favourite people and swept to the table before sitting and reaching for an iced bun. “Good morning, husband, Odillia. I trust you had a pleasant night?” But that really wasn’t what she was most excited to talk about as she continued, “Are you excited for this evening? I am! My gown has been set out already, it will truly be a delight.”
“We were just discussing the Masque ourselves,” Gustav said.
“Oh, Odilia.” Corrian leaned forward to catch her eyes. “I cannot wait to dance with you this evening. Please promise me you will not let my husband monopolize you.”
Odilia paused as she reached for a quarter of a pomegranate, the tiniest furrow appearing between her brows. “This evening?”
“Well yes, of course. The Longest Night Masque, whatever else would I be talking about?”
Gustav coughed in an attempt to hide his laughter, and Odilia ripped the pomegranate quarter in two. She reached to lay the fruit onto the Queen’s plate as she said lightly, “Surely you are aware I will not be in attendance with you at the palace.”
Corrian looked aghast. “Why ever not? Haven’t we made your position in the palace and our lives quite clear? Who could object to your presence?”
Odilia watched the exuberance of the outrage completely transform Corrian’s face and she pursed her lips slightly to restrain her smile. Corrian was so full of life. She would be good for Gustav and balance him in ways that Odilia couldn’t. So, the Dahlia said, not unkindly, “My position is not in doubt in any way, but I will celebrate the Longest Night on Mont Nuit with the rest of the Night-Blooming Flowers. As I must. I am still the Second of Dahlia House.”
A flush of red spread across Corrian’s cheeks. “Oh my, I had completely forgotten.”
“Nevertheless,” Gustav interjected with a warm smile, “I am certain that we will find another occasion for the two of you to dance soon.”
“I would like that,” Odilia said, allowing herself a small smile. She could allow herself this hard-earned joy.
Her chess game was far from over, but at last she had achieved her own victory for herself. Jocaste had once asked her who she was playing against when she studied the chessboard in her private chambers. She hadn’t known how to answer. Now she did, because she was finally at peace.
Her heart and her head were finally balanced.
~*~
Aliks
“You look lovely, my lady Dowayne,” the cook said when she entered the kitchens for a final pre-Masque check.
“Thank you, I am just checking to make sure all is well in here.”
“Of course, my lady, the meats are being cooked as we speak, the savories are being plated, and the fruit ices are in the cold box. All is well and on schedule.”
“Very good, I’m off to get ready, then I shall ensure the initiates are ready to serve, have a good Longest Night.” And with that Aliks left the kitchen.
Aliks went to the nursery to see Patroclus before going to her own chambers. He was spending more and more time there these days. He still slept in his mother’s chambers, but time had come for him to go to the nursery during the days.
“Good Afternoon, my lady,” said Cecile. The adept had recently finished her marque and was beginning to train in the running of the House. As such, she was put in charge of initiates for the Longest Night. Aliks went with Cecile to gather the initiates and watched approvingly as she gave them their instructions. Before she left, she wished them all a happy Longest Night.
Folk of the Night Court would begin arriving in a few hours time. Tonight would be Petrea’s last official night as Second, and tomorrow Aliks would be returned to full Dowayne duties. She would miss her friend, but Aimee was more than up for the job of Second of Cereus House. And Aliks, in truth, had missed working, she loved her job and was excited to get back to it.
~*~
Rosanna
Nothing was so hectic as the hours leading up to the opening bells which heralded the beginning of the Longest Night festivities. From one point of the country to the other, celebrations of all kinds were had by royal and commoner both. On Mont Nuit, this was no different.
Valerian House was all perfectly executed chaos. Through it all, those who were directing said madness remained as calm as possible. Dressed in a combination of costume and dressing gowns, the Dowayne and Second answered questions as they sat at their boudoir tables, applying makeup and checking hair. During this time, a young novice navigated through the crowd with a missive clutched in hand.
“For the Dowayne,” he said to the apprentice watching the door. Taking a look at the familiar seal of black wax, embellished by a golden honey bee, she took it and gave the young messenger a cinnamon sweet for his efforts.
Rosana accepted the letter, opening it to read even as another member of the House was attending to her long, red hair. Grandfather had written to her.
Abandoning all preparations, she opened the letter with her bare hands rather than reach for an opening tool, her eyes voraciously scanning the words within. Of all the grandchildren, she was closest to the Duc. When he deigned to show an emotion, it was to her he expressed it. What she read was bittersweet. He would not challenge the suit Odilia accepted, of course not. That she was happy and had made the selection of her heart was what mattered to him, especially since he had once made a scandal by choosing Grandmother all those years ago. While there was a possibility that he and Odilia may one day have another tender moment, their affair was settled and settled well. All this he told her because she was the one he trusted in the city, in the Court of Night Blooming Flowers, to guard their secret. To be present for her friend as he knew she always would be.
She did not have time to write a reply, but to be sure, Grandfather would be at the palace ball. Seeing as she would be there for part of the night, perhaps she could seek him out. They could dance and mingle and watch the crowd, speaking to one another about who they estimated would be the next to spin the gossip mill.
Life had returned to something that could be called normal.
Blessed Elua was kind to give them such peace.
“Back to the work,” she called and placed the letter in a locked box where all her most intimate correspondence was kept.
Eventually came the time to don cloaks and make their way to Cereus House. The procession was to begin soon, and all those attending the event needed to be ready to make the trek up the hill. During this time, Rosanna spoke to her Second.
“I will most likely not return until late tomorrow or the morning of the following day. But not later than that,” she reiterated. “Should the latter happen, I will send a page. If you should need me, should some accident occur, inquire at the Baphinol home first. No matter if I am not there at the time, my family will handle anything you might need.”
Since the processional was in alphabetical order following Cereus House, they need not rush. Valerian always rounded out the show, and they could afford a leisurely stroll.
“All will be fine, my friend. Do not worry, the House will be fine. I am more interested in hearing how you wind up spending your night. Such as the gossip you will get up to with your bosom companion from Dahlia.” Tryphosa grinned under her mask.
“Whatever we shall gossip about will be confidential, thank you very much. However, you are correct, I look forward to a celebration with her. Like old times. Just, happier and more settled.”
As she had received news of how things had concluded, sweet and hopeful, but in peace, with the Duc de Chalasse, she was eager to see her friend. Watch her be happy again and enjoy such a holy night with her. At least until Rosanna was pulled away by the call of family and the chaos of the royal party.
“I am excited to watch the changes in our quarter, the whole city, and even beyond now that the King has both a Queen and Courtesan,” Tryphosa said, twirling her fur lined cloak about as they prepared to leave the House. Outside was a dusting of snow. Not so much to make the walk to Cereus difficult, but enough to make the Mont sparkle.
“I am excited for the new year, and all the joys it is sure to bring. We all deserve it, having come through the bitter cold as we have,” Rosanna replied.
~*~
Petrea
Petrea sat at her dressing table and frowned at her reflection. She fiddled with the long strands of beads at her neck for the thousandth time in the last hour. Nothing felt right. Her hair felt too puffy, her makeup too bold, her jewelry unmatching, and her costume just…wrong. She looked over at the shimmering gown that hung over the door of her armoire. It was beautiful, and she had loved it from the moment she saw the design through every pinning and fitting until it was brought to the House the prior morning. But tonight, every bead looked askew, every seam crooked.
Petrea looked down at the myriad cosmetics and baubles strewn about the table. She knew in her heart that everything was perfect. The only thing off was inside her. Her heart ached knowing that this was her last Longest Night as Second of Cereus House. Her last Midwinter Masque processing next to Aliks—next to her best friend—as they led the Houses through the grand ballroom. Next year, it would be Aimee at the front of the procession. Next year, she would be relegated to the ranks of the other adepts. Next year, she would wear the matching costumes of the rest of the House. No more special designs for her. Just something delivered in bulk and fitted tacitly in a room of twenty others at the last minute.
No more would she be charged with planning the Masquerade Ball at Cereus House. No more would it be her responsibility to oversee the most important ball in the City of Elua. And while, yes, that would take a massive weight from her shoulders, it had been the one weight she had carried with joy. The one responsibility she had truly loved as Second. But, if she was giving up her position, she had to give up everything that came with it. There was no such thing as an a la carte Second. Perhaps, she considered, as her fingers toyed with a string of beads, Aimee would allow her to assist with the planning. Perhaps Aimee would allow her this one small concession? She could ask.
But this is what she had wanted, wasn’t it? She had never wanted to be Second, and she certainly had no designs on becoming Dowayne. So where had this melancholy come from? Perhaps it was simply that her life was being upended, that all that she and Aliks had planned since the night Aliks had found her crying in their bedroom was ending. A piece of her identity was dying. And did one not mourn any death?
But tonight was not a time for sadness, for melancholy, for mourning. This was a night for celebration, for love, for joie. It was the Longest Night, and she was Second of Cereus House. This was her Masquerade Ball. And by Blessed Elua and Naamah, she was going to enjoy it.
Petrea turned to look at the shining gown behind her. Now she could see the way the fabric hung flawlessly, the way the beading seemed to glow in the light of her dressing room, the perfection of each stitch and seam. It was an ideal dress, and indeed an ideal theme, for her last Masque as Second. She cast her gaze into the looking glass and smiled a true smile for the first time that evening as she began again applying her cosmetics. Tonight she would sparkle and shine like a jewel.
~*~
Philomena
The Shortest Day in Heliotrope House was always a chaotic struggle, behind the scenes at least. The patrons never knew how hard the adepts and novices struggled with the loss of the sun, how the busyness of their patrons made the loss feel sharper. What the patrons saw was a House single-mindedly focused on the upcoming Midwinter Masque at Cereus House. Favored patrons were granted a favor that would allow them entry, they were told how they could subtly coordinate with their adept, and they were swept up in the food and drinks and laughter of the season. Dara’s new games continued to be in rotation, keeping everyone laughing and happy.
Behind the scenes, Mena and Loir were both fighting hard to keep things running and make sure the House was ready. Loir had to go herself to the fabric merchant to get the bolts and bolts of fabric needed to get everyone Masque ready. The theme was Innocent Love, and each adept was wearing garments that mimicked undergarments and sleepwear, with delicate masks of stiffened lace, calling to mind the hopeful feeling of fresh pledges to Namaah, the first fluttering of love, and honesty of the first assignation with a Patron that will make their way into your heart. It was Loir’s job to make sure that everyone’s costume was on schedule as many adepts chose to make their own while the rest were being made by the adepts and novices with deft hands. Mena knew that Loir fell exhausted into her bed each night and rose as soon as she could to make sure things were done, and for that Mena was eternally grateful. Despite her youth, Loir was an incredible Second. Mena also knew that most nights, Loir’s bed was far from empty. Her new favorite patron, Leandré, came every evening when Loir took her evening meal and left when she did, so she knew Loir was being well taken care of.
For her part, Mena had to take care of the adepts themselves. It was the nature of Heliotrope adepts to become attached and invested in each of their patrons, so when they had obligations that kept them away, the adepts tended to feel melancholy. That was where Mena came in: she went room to room, visiting the adepts, keeping their spirits up with news of the costume progress, fresh gossip, and food. When that wasn’t enough, she sat and listened, talked them through their thoughts, and encouraged them. She had one, a lovely man named Antoine who struggled more than most when the nights lengthened. No one understood why, but the less sun there was, the harder it was for him. She’d moved him to a room on the highest floor of the house, with windows that faced the sunrise and the path it took across the sky, and she made a point of climbing the stairs every day to see him.
“Antoine,” she said as she pushed his door open. “It’s Mena.”
He was awake but still abed and she smiled gently at him. “How are you today?”
Antoine sighed and gestured for her to sit, which she did not. Instead she opened his curtains, and started finding clothes for him to wear.
“Today is not a good day, Mena. I have no interest in the dark sky or putting on clothing.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Yes, you do, you just don’t know yet.”
He shook his head. “I doubt it, but tell me why?”
Turning around and holding his clothes out to him, she said, “I think the Comté and Countess sent word.”
The smile he gave at that news lit up her heart. They’d made it through the Night.