When Namaah laid with the King of Persis, she basked in love like it was the sun. That was what Heliotrope believed, it was what they brought to their Patrons, and it was what they offered to all when they held the Festival of the Sun. On the day when the sun shone for the longest on the Temple of Namaah, Heliotrope had a party that lasted from the moment the sun crossed the horizon until it sank, sated from the day, below the horizon.
The House worked outside for months, tending gardens, clearing paths, repairing gazebos and arches, all while the children played around them. They planted flowers and made sure vegetables and fruit had the largest yields. The adepts, novices, and staff worked tirelessly, taking the tanning of their skin as a sign of their work for Namaah. Inside, people cleaned, dusted, placed cut flowers and living plants. They washed and aired out all the bedding, throwing open the windows, and letting in the freshness of early summer.
Mena oversaw it all and helped with almost every task. In Heliotrope, the Dowayne was the head of their family, not apart from it. She scrubbed floors, carried wet laundry, and played with the children. There was a large berry bush that needed to be moved to the rear garden and replanted, she helped, standing calf deep in the hole that was dug for it, guiding it to its new home. The work was soothing to her, helped her connect with all the people who lived and worked under her roof. It smoothed over the last of her grief and helped her see not only the future of the House, but also her own path.
~
The House was closed to visitors the week leading up the party, so when midnight struck the night before, every adept jumped out of bed to prepare for their long awaited guests. Mena was no different. She got out of bed and dressed herself in a sleeveless gown the color of cornflower. The lightweight fabric fluttered as she walked, winding around her legs and showing a flash of skin high up her leg. It was the first time in a year that she felt light, unburdened, and excited to move forward.
She did a last check through the House, making sure that the food was out, the tents raised, the games set up, and the wine and juice chilling. Loir came out into the garden where Mena was looking around with pride at what they’d set up. Her dress was the same style as Mena’s only in a yellow that called to mind the golden hour. Every adept had an outfit of similar style; light, translucent, and loose, in a color of their choosing. The result was like a bunch of faeries fluttering around the garden, slipping down hallways, and laughing near the windows.
Mena looked at the horizon and saw the tell-tale signs of dawn. She made her way to the locked front gate. As she pulled the large iron gate key out of her pocket, she greeted the guests.
”Welcome to our celebration of Namaah and the sun. Come, be a Heliotrope for a day. Bask in our love, our hospitality, and the sun. Our doors are open to you, and everything we have we freely offer in Namaah’s name.”
~
A young nobleman who had never visited the House before paced outside the gate. He was anxious, just like a lot of young nobles are when they first visit the Night Court. This young man, however, was different. This young man was Leandrè Michel Tobronne, youngest son of the Marquis de Tobronne of L’Agnace. The Tobronne estate was a vast swathe of land that grew wheat and grapes, making the Marquis a very powerful figure in Court. Though his status wasn’t what made him special either.
It was why he was there that set him apart.
A week prior, Lesandrè had been happily shopping with his mother and sisters, helping them select fabric for their winter season dresses, when the bell over the door chimed to announce a new arrival. He had glanced up in time to see the most beautiful woman he had ever seen glide by him like even the floor recognized her beauty and moved to aid her existence. If his mother was speaking to him, he could no longer hear her, all he could hear was the woman’s voice carrying through the bolts of cloth.
“Lana, are the dresses finished? The party is next week!”
Lana, the proprietor, had laughed and turned to gather up what looked like nothing more than a pile of fabric. “I know, I know. They’re all here, tell Mistress Mena that we’re glad of your House’s business.”
The woman had laughed and Lesandrè swore he felt the sound wash over him like a palpable thing. Her response was lost to the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, and she floated past him with her arms full of filmy fabric.
“LEANDRÈ!” The loud voice of his mother had brought him back to himself.
He turned towards her, his brain still sluggish from her presence. His mother took his face in her hands and searched his eyes for a minute. She then smiled and turned him towards the counter.
“Well, go find out how to find her.”
What he had found led him to pace outside Heliotrope House on the one day a year he would be allowed entry with no question. He had never visited the Night Court, so he was nervous. A man just inside the gate noticed him and smiled charmingly, “You look like you might need this.”
The man handed him a bottle of wine, a sweet red judging by the label, and disappeared before Leandrè could thank him. Always one to believe in fortune and fate, Leandrè took a long swig of the bottle. Maybe Namaah would yet see him through the gate to meet one of her servants.
~
Nik had received an invitation for the Heliotrope party, but he didn’t feel any desire to greet the sun from Mont Nuit and had asked Jacob to prepare the coach for midmorning. That would give him time to get some business taken care of before he left for Heliotrope, though there wasn’t much he needed to do this morning.
Upon his arrival to Heliotrope, he instructed the coachman to return for him about two hours before sunset, acknowledging that the party would continue for longer, but not wanting to get wrapped up in all the traffic that he expected would be leaving the house as the event wound down. Stepping towards the house, he smiled as he saw the doors thrown open, two of the older novices greeting the arriving guests.
He grinned as he stepped up to them. “I do hope that there’s still a little wine left?” He teased as he slipped into the building. His eyes swept the room quickly, recognizing adepts he knew in passing, but not seeing Mena or Vouloir anywhere. The party was well-attended, and he nodded to a number of nobles he knew, some of them making an obvious effort to ignore him and others responding politely but not eagerly. Well, that was something. He began to wander through the house, waiting to see who would turn up.
Mena saw Nik enter, but she was busy greeting a newcomer. Once she had passed them off to an adept, she wove through the crowd until she was right next to him. She slipped her arm through his and said, “It’s good to see you again, Lord Shahrizai. I know the sun isn’t always en vogue, but it does see all.”
~
Loir strolled happily through the House, talking to people, sharing a drink or a laugh as she went. This party was one of her favorite times of year. As an Adept, there was a lot of reverence for the Moon’s watchful eye. But to Loir, the Sun was what really mattered to Namaah. Loir understood, the warm rays felt like the hand of a reverent lover to her for a decade or more. The Longest Night was longing, the Longest Day was fulfillment.
“Second Valoir, well met.” A stately blonde with a regal bearing and kind eyes stopped her with a gentle touch. Jocaste nó Dahlia, Dowayne of that House, smiled warmly at her, saying, “I wanted to offer my congratulations for a fine fête. I know well the headache that comes with planning House events, but the warmth of the sun has suffused you all. I am glad to see Heliotrope House rising from your shared grief to open your doors again. I hope this Longest Day is a true blessing, for you and Dowayne Philomena, and for all who are here.”
Loir smiled broadly and said, “Well met indeed, Jocaste! Thank you for your kind words. I hope that you sample our hospitality today, we did indeed put our love into this event. There is food in the dining room.” She gestured down the hall with her hand. “It seems that our chef kindly baked enough of her famous bread to feed the entire Night Court. Please sample some and feel free to take a loaf back to your Second, it is a shame she was unable to attend.”
She turned to a young novice who was carrying a tray of glasses and took two. With an encouraging smile, she held one out to Jocaste. “You should try this, it is a wildflower honey wine we make just for The Longest Day. One of our adepts, Charles, keeps our bees and tends their beds of flowers. Several of our other adepts spent months in service at a winery outside of the City. Their hosts generously taught them to make wine.”
Loir took a sip and smiled as the lightly sweet floral flavor intertwined with the taste of the grapes also used to make the wine. With a smile, she asked, “Have you been to Heliotrope before?”
“I have not,” Jocaste said, accepting the mead. “No, when the duties of my House permit me time to myself, I prefer to relax under the ministrations of Balm House. Though,” she glanced across the bright and warm decor of the House with an almost wistful smile, “there was a time that I was considered for Heliotrope House. It is lovely to see even a hint of what it could have been.”
Loir smiled gently, “Our doors will always be open to you should you wish to see what kind of relaxation the warmth of the sun can offer.”
~
Leandrè sat on the wall of a fountain, a half empty wine bottle in hand, still staring at the entrance to Heliotrope House. He’d long since unbuttoned most of the buttons on his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves to expose the tan skin of a man who was intimately familiar with love of the sun. He sighed deeply, this inability to move was foreign to him. He was a man who went after what he wanted when he realized he wanted it. When his older siblings had their society debuts, he learned all the fashionable dances with them, he learned about fashionable dress, he listened avidly to their gossip and stories. He had been interested in philosophy and had read every book his father kept in the library from his university days. But above all else, he loved the sun. He had spent almost every day outside since he learned to walk, and he’d learned everything he could from the people who worked under the rays of the sun. He had always been confident, energetic, almost impulsive in his action, and yet here he sat, frozen by the thought of the woman he’d seen.
He sighed again and sat up, straightening his vest. ‘Leandrè Tobronne! You are the son of a Marquise!’ He told himself, trying to replicate the talk his older brother would give him. ‘You climbed to the top of the house when you were five, you can go inside a House. Go before I tell Mother you’re paralysed by a woman!’
Leandrè shook his head, that was a good point, Mother would be disappointed in him if he didn’t go in. She had always taught them that the people they were interested in were special, and that things that are special deserve not only our devoted attention, but also to know that we thought they were special. He couldn’t let her down.
He crossed the pavers to the gate, straightened his shoulders and walked through the gate.
~
The golden hour was upon the House before they realized. Mena smiled to herself as she laid on a bench in the back garden feeling the gentle touch of the sun’s rays on her skin. ‘Perhaps I should look into a Patron’, she thought lazily before shaking her head. That would have to wait, Kyrie was clearly emboldened and she wouldn’t risk someone she cared about.
As she watched, most people started to leave, laughing happily, and promising to return. Others slipped upstairs with Adepts, curled into each other on benches, and sat at tables eating and talking quietly. She smiled again, it made her heart happy to see the happiness and love that was blooming in her House.
She heard someone clear their throat over her, making her turn her head towards the noise. It was one of the young novices who had been tasked with sitting by the door and helping people. The girl looked nervous, which made Mena smile gently at her and sit up. “Yes, Bee, what can I help you with?”
The girl relaxed a little and she said, “There is someone here for you and they refuse to come in.”
Mena felt her stomach drop to the floor, but she kept her face pleasant for Bee’s sake. “Thank you, darling,” she said, reaching out and petting the girl’s head. “I know the way, go get yourself some food, the night is upon us now. You did well today.”
She moved quietly and quickly through the House to the door. It stood open still and she caught sight of someone on the porch. It wasn’t Kyrie, the person was too tall. She straightened her posture, put on her Dowayne demeanor like armor, and said, “May I help you?”
The voice that responded was clipped and cold, “When you come out of there, yes, you can.”
Her guard went up instantly and she stopped in the doorway. “I will stop here.”
The man was wearing non-descript clothing, his face was normal, his brown eyes swept over her, weighing her. “You will step on the porch—“
“You forget who are talking to, I am the Dowayne of this House. Speak your business immediately or be escorted off the property.”
He had the manners to look startled. “I am sorry, Dowayne. I was not informed of your status.” He held out a leather folder, “You are to come to Court in five days. The legitimacy of the late Dowayne’s will is being called into question.”
As soon as her fingers closed over the folder, he turned and strode away. Mena felt like her heart was a bird desperate to escape her chest. She flipped open the folder and scanned the paper within. The names at the bottom filled her with rage at the same time that they made her knees weak.
”Davide, get someone to run this to Duke Bonheur immediately. He and my mother should be in town for the Court season, at the townhouse most likely.”
Davide nodded. “Yes, Philomena. Is there anything else I can do?”
She leaned heavily on the door. “Yes actually. The Duke will need all the information in the Books that we have on Belisario and Kyrian’s family. It seems they’ve found a common cause for their scheming.”
Davide nodded and disappeared back into the House carrying the folder like it smelled. Mena sighed and pushed off from the doorframe. Quietly, she made her way back down the hallway and back to her bench. She had barely sat when someone appeared with food and wine for her. Nodding her thanks, she laid back down, closed her eyes and tried to let the fading sun soothe her.
~
Petrea rushed into Heliotrope House, terribly embarrassed at the late hour. The sun had long since set, the moon long since risen, the stars bright in the sky. This was a party celebrating the longest day! And here she was, arriving late into the night, for Blessed Elua’s sake! Mena would think that she had forgotten. But that was far from the truth.
Petrea, mere months into her position as Second of Cereus House, had spent the day—and the evening!—trying desperately to finish her work so that she could be on time for her friend’s fête. But every time she thought she was done, she was waylaid by some other task. She had searched high and low for Aimée, needing her friend and Shadow Second, to help. But the woman was nowhere to be found. Perhaps it was justice. After all, hadn’t Petrea abandoned Aimée to an engagement only days ago? Or was it weeks? Petrea could not keep track of time anymore.
So it was that Petrea found herself in the entrance hall to Heliotrope, practically gasping for breath. She had jumped out of the carriage as soon as the horses had stopped, terrifying the footman and driver, who had not a moment to open the door or help her down. She had picked up her skirts and run to the door, barging in without knocking.
A servant gave her a shocked look when their eyes met. It must have been quite the surprise to see the Second of Cereus House, gasping for air against the door of the House, looking somewhat disheveled. Petrea smiled wanly at the girl and waved her off. The servant nodded, her eyes still as large as saucers, and scurried away. ‘Well,’ Petrea thought, annoyed at herself. ‘this is sure to be wonderful gossip fodder for the next week.’ She took a deep breath and composed herself. She straightened her shoulders and brushed her hair back, thankful that she had worn it long and unstyled. She adjusted her dress. She hoped that Mena would like it. She had tried so hard to find something to fit the occasion and had eventually settled on a gauzy material the color of grass. Even if she hated the dress, though, Petrea hoped that Mena would not hate her for her rudeness.
Petrea walked slowly through the House, greeting adepts with whom she had become acquainted over the last months. She had spent many hours at Heliotrope since becoming friends with Mena, and the adepts here were warm and welcoming. She glanced into various rooms and salons, growing more nervous the farther into the house she went. Mena was nowhere to be found. Perhaps Mena had gone to bed? Ensconced herself with a patron or a friend? Closed herself in a private room with some of the guests? Now Petrea worried she would not have a chance to even apologize!
Her eyes lit on a young, towheaded adept, deep in conversation with another youth of darker bearing. She recognized both of them. “Adam, Alain,” she said gently as she approached, “have either of you boys seen your Dowayne recently?”
The look they shared carried an entire conversation. If Petrea had not known better, she would have thought them twins, the way that they conversed so silently.
Finally, Adam responded. “You’ll find her in the back garden. She’ll be glad to see you. I know she was hoping that you would come.”
Petrea gave Adam’s arm a squeeze. “Thank you, Adam. I would not have missed this for all of the jewels in the King’s crown. I know how special this is to Mena and to all of you.” They nodded at her, smiling, as they bid her a good evening.
She walked as quickly as she could without seeming undignified until she came to the doors to the back garden. She scanned the beautifully decorated tents and lush plants until her eyes lit on her friend, sitting on a bench, a wineglass in her hand. She was alone, reclining and looking up at the moonlit sky.
Petrea approached quietly and sat down next to Mena. She leaned back and looked up at the stars. “I’m sorry I’m so late,” she said. “I have many reasons, but I’ll make no excuses to you.”
Mena turned her head and smiled. “Petrea, I am so glad you made it. Let me get you some food and a glass of this summer wine.”
She made eye contact with an adept and after they shared a silent conversation, the adept nodded and headed into the House. Mena turned her attention back to Petrea. “Why on earth are you sweaty?” Gasping, she sat up and turned to fully face the other woman. “Did you leave a patron to come here?”
Petrea threw an arm over her face and gave an inelegant snort. “If only! My only ‘patron’ of late has been Santiago, and he is not exactly filling the House coffers. No, no, I did not leave a patron. I was caught up in—” She gestured vaguely. “—things. Every time I tried to start bathing, something else required my attention. Each time I thought I could begin dressing, another adept had a question that needed an immediate answer.” She dropped her arm and looked at Mena. “I’m still getting used to this whole ‘leadership’ business. And Aimée disappeared into thin air today. Aliks and I dropped her in Nik’s lap without explanation or prior notice, so I think this was her revenge on me.”
Mena laughed. “It is overwhelming even when you’ve been doing it most of your life, my friend. I am sorry that people chose today to make more work for you.” She wrapped an arm around her friend and hugged her. “Now this dropping of anyone in Nik’s lap sounds more intriguing than paperwork. Tell me, how did that go?”
Petrea smiled wryly. “It went fine. Aimée is the paragon of a Cereus adept. But Aliks and I thought we had advised her who Nik is to us and that he was coming simply for dinner. Apparently not! If I’m honest, I’m a bit impressed with her. She left me on my own on an important day, yet she picked one that she knew wouldn’t truly ‘ruin’ anything. She’s quite clever.” Petrea smiled and looked around. “But. I’m here now, and I must say I’m impressed. Everything looks so lovely. I shall be stealing many ideas for our exclusive Cereus fête. Incidentally, I passed by your Adam in the hallway. You had mentioned that you wanted to bring him along. I also added that Lord d’Albon to the guest list. What’s the story there?”
Mena grinned. “Do you do a lot of matchmaking in Cereus?” Petrea shook her head. “It is sort of our bread and butter here, setting people into love matches. The young Lord d’Albon has fallen dramatically and irrevocably for my sweet Adam, yet neither of them has made the right move yet.” She shrugged and had a swallow of wine to hide her mischievous grin. “It is one of my joys as Dowayne to meddle.”
Petrea took the wineglass from Mena and stole a sip. She sighed. “Oh that is delicious. Could I impose on you to provide it for our fête? I think the guests would love to sample it.” She handed the glass back to Mena. She sat up and cast a shrewd eye around the garden and back toward the House. “Speaking of Nik, he was on your guestlist? Is he here? I think I owe him an apology for Aliks’s and my absence the other night.”
Mena shook her head. “No, he left hours ago. You know he doesn’t keep owl’s hours as many of us do. I suspect he’s back at his townhouse, scribbling gossipy notes and conferring with that butler of his. You’ll run into him, I’m sure. And you know, Nik. There won’t be any hard feelings.”
“True. He’s a good one. So, Adam and Lord d’Albon. Tell me more. Does Adam return his affections? Do you think it is truly a love match? I am happy to join you in your schemes, but I would hate for this young lord to get hurt. He’s new to the City—I believe he recently inherited his title and estate—and I wouldn’t want him to be forced to leave or have his reputation ruined.”
Mena waved her off. “Adam absolutely returns his feelings. It’s just a matter of giving them a little push. Let me tell you all about it.”