On Dove’s Wings

Rosanna was not a woman easily rattled. Being trained for years to handle all manner of pain, the deprivation of sense, to feel fear in congruence with pleasure, to find joy in arts that would make others pale and run, she was not prone to flights of deep worry or fright. Now though, she dared to think she felt it. And that was a difficult realization to make. Upon returning to her House after visiting her grandfather, she waited until the duties of the day were completed before pulling Tryphosa aside. 

“What I tell you now does not leave this room, am I understood?” She asked with a certainty and depth of seriousness that almost mirrored their friends in Mandrake. 

“Of course you have my confidence,” Tryphosa assured her. “Why though? What has happened?”

“I can only tell you in summary but I promise you it is vital to keep this to ourselves.”

So she did. Informed her trusted friend and Second what had happened with her grandfather, what was discussed, and what possibilities now lay at the delicate feet of another courtesan and her unprepared prince. By the end, her fellow Valerian and confidante was pale-faced herself, sitting down on a fainting couch and asking for a drink. Luckily, the office was always well stocked for just such troublesome times. 

“Do you really think someone would start a war over a love affair?” Tryphosa almost whispered. 

“Is there not a famous poem from your mother’s homeland about just that? Did it not last ten years?” Rosanna shot back. 

“I do not see Odilia being stolen away like Helene but…all epic tales have a kernel of truth in them, in some way. Blessed Elua preserve us if anyone really takes their love so offensively!” They each made a quick sign to the gods above and in the true Terre D’Ange beyond. 

“If the Dauphin makes his affections publicly known there is no telling what some of the nobility may do. His Dahlia is an intelligent, successful, and beautiful woman. But she is common born and for some that is a sin that cannot be forgiven, holy precept or no.”

Tryphosa looked quite uncomfortable at that but she nodded slowly. She sipped her wine, the cup held in both hands quite tightly. Nervous, that was easy to tell for one who knew her so well and for so long. 

“Speak, my friend. You have something to say, I can hear it.”

“It is just…sometimes I forget that you come from that same rank. We see the nobility and wealthy merchants every night, so it is no surprise how well you handle them. Then there is the matter that we have been here, together, for so long that it is far too tempting to forget what lies beyond Mont Nuit,” the Valerian Second confessed. “To think something could actually be capable of harming one of our own for the crime of loving our Dauphin and for him loving her in kind. It feels…against all we are.”

Rosanna listened and nodded lightly along. Yes, it was so easy to fall into the sensuality and rhythm of life amongst the great Houses of Naamah. To pretend that the politics and machinations of the Court and the elite could not reach them. A fine dream, but a dream nonetheless. 

“They can and, if given reason to feel offended, they would. I cannot say who, but he is still to be King. And someone will want their daughter, their noble daughter, to be a bridal candidate for him. To compete against a woman such as Odilia? I fear one of them might dare to forget good sense and precept to keep the royal line as free of what they consider bad blood as possible.”

Such thoughts kept Rosanna up all night. Tossing and turning, she could not help but think of the words of her grandfather. Roland had not survived, and thrived, as he had by underestimating the ambitions of others. There was a reason the old King had a healthy respect, some even said a healthy fear, of him. Taking back the sovereignty of an entire duchy was no mean feat either. 

Valerian House was her duchy, in that sense. Her domain. To protect it was to protect herself and all those under her roof. As well as the honor of her family name. Of all times to become Dowayne, her luck would have it be during a time of completely unprecedented social change. 

Which was why, some days later when she found the time, she left early for the temple district. Her carriage was en route when the sun was just rising, when no prying eyes might see her. Not out of shame, of course not, but to keep this business to herself. It was to the Temple of Eisheth, her own ancestress, that she went for divine advice first. 

Leaving offerings of sweet wine and fruits, Rosanna lit the incense, bowed her head, and prayed, “Blessed Eisheth, mother of my father’s line, I beg for your grace and calm in this time of turmoil. I see around me the chapters of a greater story being woven, but I do not know if I am a spectator or if I have a part to play. What reads as a simple love affair is spilling into places I worry for, that its players are the first act in a drama which has the capacity to unmake and harm. Please grant me insight to see the machinations around me, and to continue to live in your grace.” 

After that it was to the Temple of Naamah, the small building of white marble which held so much sway in her life and in those she cared for. Surrounded by gardens, it was a familiar and calming place. Rosanna purchased a dove from one of the sellers just getting set up for the day before moving within. At the entrance was the likeness of the divine patroness, which always inspired awe in Rosanna. She would never tire of looking upon the perfectly serene and enchanting face of the angel. Arms wide in welcome, the holy artwork bid all who came in love and times of need into the sanctum. Around the domed ceiling were rows and rows of doves, sleeping or nesting in the perches placed there. Some flew through the oculus at the center, as the one she brought. Whispering a wish and prayer, she let the pure white bird make its own way. Up into the sky it went. Perhaps right to Naamah herself, or so one could hope.

“Lady Dowayne, you honor us with your presence this fine morning. What might the holy order do for you?” A priest in scarlet robes smiled in greeting. Hands spread wide in imitation of his goddess, he was a man of middle age, long blond hair and a handsome countenance. Rosanna had always liked him and felt peace already by simply being in his presence. 

“I have a somewhat…worrisome matter on my mind, Priest Jaques,” she admitted and came to hold his offered hands. “And find myself in need of sage advice. Might we speak in private?”

“Is this serious, my lady?” He inquired, brow furrowed. Still, he nodded and led her along the marble hall to a room meant for meditation and divine assignations

“For the Servants of Naamah, yes. As well as for some beloved figures high in society,” she confessed as the door was shut behind them. “But I must ask that what I speak of here does not leave this room unless you think the priestly order must be involved.”

“My dear girl, of course. You always have my confidence. Now sit, tell me whatever is the matter.”

…It’s Another

Mena did not sleep easily the day after Florian’s visit. Belisario was out of control, even for him. She knew that she could go to Bryony and get his Dowayne  to get him in hand. However, she wouldn’t do that. Belisario was vindictive, conniving, shameless, and capable of the particular brutality of someone raised in Heliotrope possessed. She didn’t want to cause him to turn on Bryony if she could avoid it.

So, she tossed and turned, failing to really rest. When sunset finally came, she pulled on her robe and headed down to see how preparations for the night were going. She helped the adepts readying the front parlor, the routine soothing her more than she had expected. One of her close friends Dara was in the back salon setting up games for the patrons and adepts. Dara had an almost unstoppable good humor and sunny disposition. When Mena peeked in, she was seated on the floor in trousers and her chemise top, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper.

“Dara, what are you up to now?” Mena asked, laughing lightly.

“Oh Mena! I didn’t hear you,” Dara said with her trademark rich laugh. “I’m trying to come up with new games! The Longest Day is coming, I know our visitors would love some unique entertainment!”

Mena grinned at her. “You know I always love your games. Let me know when they’re ready to be tested, I’ll make sure to come down.”

Dara nodded and bent back over her work.  Mena wandered away, enjoying the familiarity and comfort of her House coming to life. The kitchen smelled incredible, but she knew better than to intrude on Cook so she wandered back towards the front of the House. 

There was a loud knock at the main door, so she headed over to answer it. There was no one standing there when she got there, making her shake her head. As she was closing the door, she looked down and saw a small box. Bending down, she picked it up and turned back into the House, greeting Loir who was coming down the stairs.

“Hello there, sleepy-head,” Mena said teasingly as she opened the box lid. “I hope you slept well, I’ve been up—“

Her scream had people come running from all parts of the House. She stood, frozen in shock, the box and its contents lying on the formerly clean rug. A decomposing and headless rat lay oozing on the carpet, causing more screams and running to get something to clean it up. The box lid lay near Mena’s feet, the inside covered with words written in what looked at first glance like blood:

precious pet

it took a while but i found this

it reminded me of your future

so i had it brought over

think of me

-K

If It’s Not One Thing…

“Philomena, you’ve got a guest.”

Mena looked up, confusion on her face. A young novice stood in the doorway of her office, clearly nervous. Clara was new, a transfer from Orchis. “A guest? You should just bring them to me, darling. No need to be nervous.”

Tension slid from the young woman’s shoulders. “Sorry, it’s just when an advocate showed up at Orchis, someone was in trouble. Particularly one with special privileges.”

Mena smiled. “That makes sense, Clara. Trouble is much less likely here. Please show them in.”

Clara nodded and disappeared for a few minutes, then returned and held the door open for someone to enter. “Dowayne, your guest, Special Advocate Bonheur.”

Mena laughed and quickly came out from behind her desk. “Oh, Florian, you had to scare the novices didn’t you?”

She quickly embraced the man, gesturing for him to sit. “Clara, this is Florian Boneur, my mother’s husband. Please send up light tea. Florian, what brings you here?”

Florian was a handsome man, thick, dark hair, cut short, styled fashionably. He looked younger than his almost sixty years, something he used to his advantage at all opportunities. He laughed richly. “Oh Mena, you know I can’t resist! I do it in court all the time, it’s the one joy I still retain. “

She laughed, scoffing at his dramatics. “Oh. I wouldn’t let Chrysanthe hear you say that. You know how she pouts.”

Florian nodded. “Your mother sends her regards. by the way. She is very proud of her ability to keep me entertained, let’s keep my wording to ourselves, shall we?” He nodded his thanks to the novice who had returned with their tea. “All jokes aside, I’m here for serious reasons. First, it is time to read Olivier’s will.”

Mena didn’t mean to inhale sharply, but she did. “Is it that time already? Very good, I’ll have it sent to you”

Florian nodded, “Very good, very good, even though we all know he left it all to you, Laurent, and the House, we need that official copy. The second piece is that your father is contesting it, claiming that it was made under duress and undue influence. He’s had an advocate file his claim with the Judiciary.”

Mena sat for a second, trying to process this, her hands starting to shake. “Even for him, this is unmitigated gall. What do we do, Florian?”

“You give me the document and leave the rest to me. I was Olivier’s advocate, this is mine to handle.” He took her hands in his and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “I should be able to keep you out of the mess for a while, maybe even the entire time. Please, trust me Philomena.”

Mena nodded. “Thank you, Florian. You’ve always been kind to me, more so than Chrysanthe. I trust you.”

Florian sighed. “Your mother tries, you know she does. You were wanted, so much. She just didn’t count on Belisario causing so much grief and pain.”

Mena nodded. “I know, I’ve heard some of what he did after. What does Belisario want, exactly?”

“Everything that’s not Heliotrope.”

La Gemme Charmant

Dotted sporadically along the great Rue Courcel were squares where the tree-lined boulevard opened into wider, pedestrian areas. Carriages and horses could still pass through, but there were areas paved with flat stones and cafés with tables and chairs where people could gather. To maintain a storefront in one of these squares was the dream of any shopkeeper in the City of Elua, and La Gemme Charmant was well-established. They were in no danger of losing business. The storefront was painted a deep, tasteful green to compliment the grey stone of the rest of the building, and the tall windows had clearly been recently cleaned. The lettering in the banner running above the door and windows was carefully done with a precise hand, the calligraphy a little old-fashioned but nonetheless tasteful. 

It was the pride of the square. Perhaps they were not so neatly positioned or well-connected that they could boast patronage by the royal house itself, but most of the nobles that kept their townhouses on Rue Courcel came to La Gemme Charmant for quality and design. They had a legacy of excellence and both of the Master Jeweller’s children exemplified it—albeit in different ways. 

The young man stood patiently at the door, his dark eyes watching as the carriage marked with the livery of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers came rolling to a stop in the square outside. His arms folded over his chest, he watched the footman offer a hand to help the passenger down as she disembarked with Night Court grace. The appearance of a Servant of Naamah was always of note to the citizens of the City of Elua, so the jeweller watched as heads turned and steps slowed to see the courtesan. She handled it with the casual acceptance and poise of all the Night Court trained, keeping her head high and her steps even as she crossed the square towards the jeweller’s shop, but the whispers that followed her would be impossible to miss. 

The gentleman at the door gave her a small bow. “Welcome. Please step inside.”

The footman waited outside as the adept vanished with a swish into La Gemme Charmant, and it was only once the door had closed and the jeweller had brought the woman into the rooms further back from the windows that both of them let their masks crack. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he drew her close in a tight embrace as they held each other briefly, relaxing into the comfort and familiarity of each other. No matter what the Night Court had done for her when it took her, it hadn’t separated her heart completely from her family, and she held her brother tightly for a long moment. 

“Alesander,” she exhaled into his shoulder, letting some of her tension go as she tightened her embrace before pulling back. Her dark eyes looked up into her brother’s dark eyes, and she asked, “How is Father?”

Alesander squeezed her hand before releasing it and saying, “His hands shake more and more every passing week. I am all but running the store myself.”

“The reputation of the work is still well-regarded,” she said, accompanying him to the back rooms of the store where the clients were served infused waters and fruits while they discussed design details. “I hear it. The adepts speak highly of the patron gifts they are given that come from here, and I see the patrons themselves wearing your designs. Even without Father’s hands, the reputation is secure.”

“I hear things, too, Odilia,” her brother said, sitting down with her. “Things I should have heard from your lips, not the gossips that think I cannot hear them while they peruse the jewels.”

To her credit, she did not deny it. She merely looked at him, accepting his words with the strength that Dahlia House had given her before she nodded slowly. “Yes, I should have told you.”

“The Dauphin, Odilia?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“We met during his Grand Tour at his majority.”

Years, Odilia? Years, and you said nothing?”

“I did not think it would become anything. He was a patron for a night, like all the others. Then he sent me letters while he was at university.”

“Letters?”

“At first just simple correspondence about his classes, about how he was doing, how he missed the city but was coming to love the Siovale mountains. Then he wrote me poems and asked for my advice.”

“What replies were you sending that encouraged this?”

“He was a patron, Ales! I was maintaining the connection as all adepts are taught to do so that a patron may return!”

“And when he did, he kissed you at the Revelry for all to see! See and then gossip! Odilia, people are wondering.”

“People always wonder, certainly about royalty and certainly about Servants of Naamah.”

“But not so often the two together. You understand the implications this may have? What some people will use this to say?”

Her gaze sharpened on him. “What people?”

Alesander sighed heavily, rubbing his hand down his face. She turned toward him. “Ales, what have you heard?”

“Nothing,” he said wearily. “At least, not enough to know for sure. Yet…there are whispers. Some are…discontent with the influence someone like you may exert over the future King.”

“Someone like me?” She couldn’t quite keep the sting from her voice. “A Night Court adept? Or a commoner?”

“Either?” He shrugged helplessly. “Both? For all the great history the Night Court has, the power and beauty and glamor of it can cause as much resentment as admiration. And you, a common-born girl, rising so far as to have the Dauphin in your bed? It’s too much for some to take.”

“Who, Ales? Who is saying these things?”

A muscle worked in Alesander’s cheek before he admitted, “Jacques.”

“Uncle Jacques?” She clenched her hands in the fabric of her skirts. “How…? Why?

“I don’t know, O. He’s soured, something has made him angry. He’s blaming you for it, for it all.”

“You have to stop him,” she said urgently. “Please, Ales, you have to talk to him. These kinds of whispers won’t be tolerated, not with Gustav poised to be crowned next year. He can’t risk the slander of it, his powerful friends won’t allow it. If Uncle Jacques stirs up too much trouble, then—”

“Does he love you, Odilia?”

She sat back slightly. “What?”

“Gustav de la Courcel, does he love you? Truly?”

“I don’t see why that’s relevant.”

Love as thou wilt, Blessed Elua said.” Alesander stared hard into her eyes. “Is it love?”

“I’m not…sure.”

“If there’s one thing you always are, it’s sure. It’s why Dahlia took you. You were always confident and sure.”

She clenched her teeth so tightly they began to ache before she finally allowed herself to admit it quietly, “I think he does.”

Alesander nodded. It was no less than he expected. “You understand how that will change things, of course you do. You know better than him, I expect.”

“Which is why I know how badly this could go if Jacques isn’t handled delicately,” she said urgently. “Please, Ales, the last thing we need is for him to get too much attention or, Elua forbid, get the Judiciary involved. This cannot escalate. Please, help me.”

“He barely speaks to me anymore,” Alesander said bluntly. “Whatever grievance he has against you, he’s taking it out on me, too.” He rose to his feet, pulling back away from where she tried to grasp his hand, brushing out his trousers as he said quietly, “I’ll fetch your order for you. You’ll look beautiful in them.”

He withdrew into the back room where the finished orders were kept, and she closed her eyes against the sting of his words, sitting alone in the place that had once been her childhood home before everything had changed. 

Season of Again

The sun rose in a clear blue sky on the 100th day after Olivier’s death. The time of official mourning had ended and seemed like the House took a deep breath. Servants, novices, and the children swept the House with brooms made of dried herbs and flowers, other servants took down the black curtains and threw open all the windows. Adepts shook out bedding, took down the black buntings that hung on the outside of the House, uncovered paintings, and talked animatedly about returning to their lives. Word of the sounds of conversations and uninhibited laughter coming from Heliotrope quickly spread around the City. Regular patrons made preparations to attend the House once the sun set.

Mena stood on her balcony and listened to her House, her family, bloom back to life. The first flowers had just sprung from the cold ground, and it seemed fitting. She smiled and for the first time in a long time, it came easily. While the death of her Grandpère had of course been a brutal blow, his illness and decline had been harder in a way. Now she stood alone, for now, at the head of Heliotrope and alone, always, in her blood family. Loir had told her of whispers that Belisario was scheming, that he’d been in Bryony’s library with a visitor who had arrived early in the morning when only the servants were awake and had left before lunch. Mena had a feeling that he was up to something but until she knew, he was of no concern to her. 

The knock on her door drew her attention back to things that were her concern, and she crossed her room to the door. When Mena pulled it open, she saw the smiling face of Loir. “Good morning my friend!” She said, pushing her way past Mena into the room, her hands full of a tray with covered dishes and a stack of letters. “I hope our illustrious leader is ready for the day.”

Mena laughed quietly. “I am ready, but I am not illustrious. What do you have for me?”

Loir smiled and set the tray down on the low table Mena kept near her couch. “To me, you are always illustrious,” she laughed, taking the covers off the dishes. “Aevelline sent up your breakfast; porridge, meat, bread with jam; your coffee, and an extra slice of bread with jam. She said to tell you, ‘Philomena. You are getting thin, you’re not eating all I give you and I’m over it, eat!’” Loir did her best impression of their cook’s voice, making Mena laugh.

“I will do my best to eat better,” Mena said, sinking down onto her couch and pulling her robe around her. “I expected this loss, you know? I didn’t expect the loneliness that came with it.”

Loir sat next to her and handed her her bowl of porridge. “Eat while you talk.” The other woman leaned back on the couch, stretching languidly before gathering up her own robe. “I suppose that makes sense if you think about it. Taking care of Olivier and the House took all your time before, so you didn’t see patrons often, you certainly haven’t had a favorite in a long while.”

”Plus Kyrian,” Mena said between bites. Aevelliene’s food was incredible as always. “You’re right, I need to make the time to see patrons again. I can’t yet.” She gestured with her spoon at the paperwork that remained on the tray. “I am behind in this paperwork. Once that’s under control again, I’ll make myself available.”

Loir nodded and scooped up the papers. “I will also keep an eye out for someone for you. It’s my job as your best friend. Now, let’s work on these.” She looked quickly through the papers, nodding to herself. “It seems that these are requests for assignations for specific events.”

Mena nodded, set down her empty bowl, picked up one of the breads, and took the first paper off the stack. “Hmm, let’s see. This one is an easy one, a noble whose son died suddenly. Send Adam, he seems to fit her description of her son, and he’s so gentle. He’ll be a good fit to help her grief.”

As she kept eating, she went through the letters and assigned adepts for each. Several were like the one she sent Adam on, standing in for a loved one. The first time she had spoken to someone who wanted that kind of assignation with an adept, she was surprised. It seemed to her that Balm would be better suited. The patron said that what they needed was the chance to say what they wished they had to their loved one, not to feel better about having not said it. Heliotrope adepts were taught to give themselves fully to their patron and to receive their patron’s all in return. If the patron needed their adept to be someone else, they did. After some time filling these kinds of requests and hearing the adepts reports afterwards, it made sense to Mena. She was surprised that she was fielding so many of these requests, it seemed that their initial patron had spoken to their friends and spread the word. 

She managed to eat all the food that had been sent to her while they finished the letters. “Loir,” Mena asked as she drained the last of her coffee. “I need to make you officially Second.”

”Is that the best choice, Mena?” Loir was staring off at the door to Mena’s balcony.

”What do you mean, who else?” Mena was surprised that her friend would even ask that question.

“Perhaps I am better suited to handle the information gathering part of the House work. How will people deal with Heliotrope having a Second who is not a full D’Angeline?”

Mena stood up, her irritation clear in her movements. “I do not care what people think, Loir. Your parentage has nothing to do with your ability to help me run this House. I am not stupid, I know that some at Court treat you as a novelty. I see the requests, remember?” She exhaled noisily. “Honestly, I can not imagine running this House without you, hang the rest of them. If you find that you’re having issues, we’ll address it then. It’s not like I’ll bend to them, I am no Valerian nor am I an Alyssum. Devotion is not blind worship after all.”

Loir laughed quietly. “I am happy to see that you are feeling better enough to be spirited again. Okay, my friend, I will be your Second.”

Mena made a show of bowing dramatically. “Thank you. Now, let’s go down and supervise the preparations for tonight’s salon opening. It’s our first since Olivier died, it needs to be everything.”

Two Letters, Sealed with Honeybees and Roses

From the private desk of His Grace, Roland de Chalasse, Sovereign Duc of L’Agnace to Rosanna Baphinol nó Valerian, Dowayne of Valerian House

Granddaughter,

Now that the spring has come, and the flowers are in their budding and blooming, I hope to host you in my townhouse for an afternoon. The duties of your position have kept you from coming to visit me, and that will not stand. You have written to me of some of your struggles and some of the stories of Mont Nuit, I would like to hear you regale me with them in person. 

How did the celebrations of Mara’s Eve fare in your House? I hope you did your House proud with your arrangements? I wish to hear of it, you know what high expectations I have of you, especially in your dear grandmother’s memory. I know she watches you in the True Terre d’Ange That Lies Beyond, filled with pride for all you accomplish. 

I seem to remember another letter you sent me with some gossip from last autumn. You wrote to me how the Dauphin was seen showing some clear affection to one of the other adepts of the Night Court. I wish to know what you know of her. The King-to-be surely has discerning taste in courtesans, and I am sure the attention will turn to her soon enough. I am relying on you to provide me an advantage. 

Prepare yourself to receive my carriage, Rosanna. I expect your visit when I send it for you. 

Your Grandfather, R

~

From the private desk of Rosanna Baphinol nó Valerian, Dowayne of Valerian House to His Grace, Roland de Chalasse, Sovereign Duc of L’Agnace

Dearest Grandfather,

Be assured that nothing would make me happier than to visit you here in the City! Being away from L’Agnace in the autumn was a struggle, but I bore it well, I am proud to say. Hopefully, this coming year I will have settled into my role and have a little time to come to you during the height of the apple season and hear all about the new hives and varieties of honey you craft as well. I do miss you so, but I am sure you know that.

Mara’s Eve was a resounding success, and I am very proud not only of myself but of my adepts. We had the pleasure of three making their debut, and they did us all great honor. As such, I have, of course, made my thanks known by taking great time in the temples to send prayers and lay offerings at the feet of Namaah, Kushiel, and Blessed Elua. I will let you know that the prayer scrolls you gifted me from Grandmother are well cared for and very well used, they are among the greatest gifts I have ever received. 

You ask about the gossip of our King in waiting—well, there is much to tell. While I trust our messenger to deliver this letter to you safely, I will not write down what news I have for you in great detail. Just know there are many moving pieces, but when are there not? 

What I can say here is that I have made the acquaintance of the courtesan upon whom the Dauphin has bestowed his affection and that you will be most delighted—as she is a Dahlia. Odilia is her name, and I have had the pleasure of her conversation. And I recall how you were once a favored patron of that House. A good companion for a member of the royal family, I should think.

I look forward to visiting you, Grandfather. I will have our footmen look for your carriage!

All my love, 

Rosanna 

Evidence of Things Not Seen

Marielle nó Cereus had been a Night Court for nearly twenty years, long enough to develop a sense of when something was happening. And something was certainly happening. Her years of training to listen carefully to what was said—and unsaid—to watch for subtlest movements of her patrons’ faces and bodies, were telling her that something was going on.

The mood in Cereus House was lighter as of late. The adepts’ faces were less dour, their chins held a touch higher. The servants hugged the walls a little closely as they went about their duties, and their eyes didn’t dart away from Marielle’s as they passed her in the halls. And if the candles burned a touch brighter, well, that Marielle was sure she was imagining. 

No one spoke of the difference at Cereus House, but all within its walls felt it. The household went about its business with a lifted spirit. No one questioned anything, seemingly content to exist in the better climate. That was enough for them. Marielle wished it could be enough for her, but she was too curious. She always had been. Was this simply the House recovering from the long, dark days under Dowayne Gerault’s iron fist? Perhaps. But Marielle, with all her years of experience and tutelage, knew—she knew—that more lay beneath the surface. 

The House continued to run. Assignations were scheduled. Patrons came and went. Novices took their lessons. Children received their care. But everything that came from the Dowayne was in Petrea’s voice. Or even Aimee’s voice on behalf of the Second. Aimee—a Senior adept with no title. No true standing in the House. Why was Aimee speaking for the Second? It was such an odd thing. All these words coming from different mouths. Marielle had mentioned this in passing to the cook one morning. Cook had simply shrugged and replied that everyone proceeded in their own way. A fellow adept said the same—and why should they question favorable circumstances? Marielle nodded and continued with her duties. The servants were happy. Her fellow adepts were happy. Her patrons were happy. Why could she not simply be happy? Why must her mind snag on every small thing? Why must she fixate on the small expressions in Aimee’s and Petrea’s faces that told her there was more going on? 

As Marielle lay in her bed, she turned over everything that was different in the House. Perhaps new leadership always took time for adjustments. Perhaps it was simply the Second coming into her own. A new friendship emerging. A new Dowayne finding her footing. Could that be all? Marielle doubted it very highly. She noticed those small gestures and tiny looks between Aimee and Petrea. The way that quieted when others approached. 

And then…A few weeks past, the Dowayne had emerged! Looking something worse for the wear, but present, nonetheless. Aliks took breakfast in a salon with Petrea, sat in on lessons with younger adepts, attended a Showing. And she smiled. And, Blessed Elua, she even laughed. It was a lovely thing to see and hear. Something had changed. Something caused Aliksandria to emerge from her dark cocoon. 

But what had changed? Marielle’s mind spun with the possibilities. She could find no specific event or action to point to, but the effects were all around. Perhaps it didn’t matter. If all was well, was the reason truly important?

It was with these thoughts that Marielle made her way along the dark corridor. The hour was late, and she had gone to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Her sleep had been uneasy lately. Blessed Elua, it had been uneasy for months. She was returning to her room when she heard laughter coming from down the hallway. Creeping slowly, she followed the sound. She found herself standing not far from the Dowayne’s office. The door stood slightly ajar, and bright, hot firelight burned from within. Great gales of laughter exploded from inside the office. Marielle stood stock still. Who could be making such a racket in the middle of the night? 

She knew she should turn around. Knew she should take her tea and go back to bed. Knew she should walk away. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. On silent feet, Marielle made her way to the Dowayne’s office. She peered through the crack in the door, hiding in the shadows so as not to be seen by the occupants. What she saw inside made her gasp. It was only through sheer force of will that she did not drop her cup.

Within the office, a huge fire burned in the fireplace—not uncommon. What was not common, however, was for the Dowayne, the Second, and a senior adept to be dancing in front of it, clearly deep in their cups. The three held glasses aloft, empty bottles of wine and strong spirits strewn about the room. The desk was empty, piles of papers swept onto the floor. Most shocking of all? They were tossing sheaf after scroll after page of parchment into the fire. With each page that burned, they let loose whoops and cackles like fishwives.

“To Gerault! May he rot in the ground!” Petrea slurred loudly, falling to a chaise.

Aliks threw a large scroll into the fire and watched it crackle and curl, turning black. She clinked her glass with Aimee. “May his eyes be eaten by worms!” She shouted and smacked a kiss to Aimee’s lips.

“And his skin turn to mush!” Aimee said, her voice as wobbly as her feet. She turned to Petrea, attempting to toast her, but succeeded only in falling next to her on the couch. Their glasses fell to the floor, shattering.

The three fell silent, looking at each other like naughty children who had just committed some offense, worried they might be caught. Aliks was the first to recover, doubling over with laughter. She threw her glass to the hearth, where it smashed against the stones. Petrea and Aimee stood on unsteady legs, picking their way carefully through the broken glass on the floor. Aliks grabbed a paper, looked at it, and went to throw it into the fire. 

Marielle caught a look at it—it was a ledger! Written in Gerault’s hand! They were destroying House records! She could not let them do this! 

Her teacup fell from her hand as she shoved open the door and burst inside. “You criminals!” She shouted, slamming the door behind her. “You are…you are…you are destroying our records! You are hiding our finances! You cannot do this! I’ll not allow it!” She pointed a finger at them. “How dare you!” Marielle would not stand for this. She would have them brought to the Judiciary. Hanged for this crime.

Aliks’s hand stopped, midway to the fire, and the page fell to the floor. The three women gaped at her, staring, then their eyes darted to each other. A look passed between them. An instant decision made.

Petrea’s soft voice seemed to echo through the silent room. She held out her hands in a placating gesture. She stepped toward Marielle tentatively, as though she were approaching a frightened animal. “Marielle, this is not what you think.”

“It is!” Marielled spat out. “I know what I saw!”

Petrea shook her head slowly. “Marielle, please. Come in. Please. Sit down.”

Her voice was so gentle, so soothing. So trusting. And Marielle wanted to trust her. This was Petrea, after all. The woman who had sat with her for so many hours, helping her, teaching her, all while suffering silently. Marielle wanted to give her a chance. A chance to explain. A chance to make this right. Her feet took her into the room, almost unbidden. She nodded. “Alright,” she said. “Explain this to me.” She gestured at the mess of papers, bottles, and crackling fire.

Petrea took Marielle’s hands and led her to the chaise. Her voice was tender as she spoke. “Marielle, there is a grave secret, one that could take down Cereus House should it be revealed. I trust you. Because of my trust, we are willing to take you into our confidence. But you must keep to yourself all that you hear. Do you understand? Speaking of this could ruin our House.” Marielle dipped her chin at the seriousness in Petrea’s tone. “This is all about Gerault. About everything he was doing to destroy our House. And everything we are doing to fix that. All that Aliksandria has been working these last months to reconcile.”

The puzzle pieces began to slot themselves into place as Petrea explained Gerault’s treachery and the plan to bring Cereus House back from the brink. Marielle nodded along, the mystery finally solved, her mind finally at rest.

“Just tell me: how can I help?” She asked. “I want to help.” 

A Letter, Sealed in Heliotrope

Dear Mama and Papa,

I am sorry for the delay in responding, Olivier finally went where we can not follow. I followed the rituals and held his vigil. The items you sent were deeply appreciated.

Since the House has just left mourning, there is nothing happening here that is worthy of sending you. I will be made Second officially at the summer fete. The other Houses have been quiet for the most part, though something is definitely shifting in Cereus. I don’t know if you recall their late Dowayne from my prior letters, he was the opposite of Olivier in every way. The only reason Cereus survived is because we cannot allow them to fall, they are first among us after all. No one has seen Aliksandra, the new Dowayne, rumors have her knee-deep in House repair. Petrea is the Second, Mena met her a few weeks ago and has nothing but good things to say about her. It makes me breathe easier and feel more confident in the future of the Court to hear that Cereus will be restored.

I spoke to you before about the party at Dahlia and what transpired between 

their Second and the Dauphin. It has been many months since then and they have still managed to keep whatever is between them (that kiss points to emotions) out of the public eye. I know that is in His Highness’s best interest, but I am admittedly confused by her silence amongst her peers. At the least, the Seconds and Dowaynes would aid them in whatever their plan is. Perhaps I have a completely Heliotrope mind, but it seems to me that the cause of our future King’s happiness in the eyes of Namaah is one of the noblest endeavors we could take on.

Word is that preparations are underway in the Palace to have the Dauphin crowned by Midwinter. There are people who still mourn the loss of his brother, but most know that time rolls forward without regard for our wishes. He was trained for different things, but the heart of the Royal family is known to be large and loyal, while their mind is quick and fair. Those facts are giving the people faith that he will be a just and kind King.

I am afraid that I have nothing more to write you about. Next missive, I will let you know how things are going here: I’ve heard from Bryony that Olivier’s son is plotting, a woman at the fountain yesterday said that Lord Montalban has returned, and I received word from the dye merchant that he will be delayed. I will be able to tell you how the letters he left are received and what has slithered towards our House. 

Do not worry, I keep my dagger sharp,

All my love,

Loir

A Withering Flower

The year prior…

Petrea nó Cereus had been sitting in her Dowayne’s office, playing her lap harp for what felt like hours. Her fingers were beginning to ache, but her many years of training allowed her to continue to strum the instrument with precision.

Gerault nó Cereus, Dowayne of the House sat at his desk, appearing to pore over vast piles of paperwork. Having done this many times, Petrea knew he was simply looking busy in order to keep her there. He often summoned her to his office and ordered her to sit and play the same long melody over and over, stopping her at a random note, chastising her for missing it, and insisting she begin again. It was a melody Petrea had learned as a child—near a score and half years ago!—and she knew that she knew the piece backwards and forwards. And so did Gerault. She remembered with great melancholy a night many years past that he had sat on an ottoman in her room, laughing with her as she worked through the piece from the end! It was one of her most fond memories, now ruined. 

The Dowayne had once been a dear friend to Petrea. In her youth, he had guided her through her training ever so kindly and with great care. He had listened to her concerns and, when he was tapped as Second, he had taken her recommendation of her best friend, Aliksandria, to train as next in line. Petrea remembered with no small sadness the afternoon teas with the two of them, Gerault lounging on a sofa and bemoaning his duties as Second, while noting things that Aliks should remember. While the other two shared the bond of future leadership, Petrea never felt left out. She adored both of them and reveled in their success. She had so looked forward to the day when they would ascend, to the great things they held for Cereus House.

But it had all been for naught. It was almost as if the mantle of Dowayne poisoned Gerault. He became secretive and unkind. Petrea knew that he held things from Aliks, who wanted only to please him. Slowly, the House fell into almost disrepute. And Petrea’s heart broke over and again as Gerault continually took out his ire on her. Perhaps it was their once close friendship that turned him against her.

A knock came at the door, bringing Petrea from her memories, and Gerault indicated the person to enter. Aliks breezed in and approached their Dowayne, a parchment in her hand. “Dowayne Gerault,” she said mildly. “I was looking through some of our ledgers, and I noticed what appears to be an incorrect calculation here—”

“That’s not for you to worry about, Aliksandria,” Gerault interrupted harshly. “I have seen to those ledgers, and there are no mistakes. I am sure that your calculations are simply incorrect.”

Petrea chanced a glance up at her friend. She knew that Aliks had a good head for numbers, and whatever the problem was, Petrea knew that Aliks was correct; she knew this was yet another secret Gerault was hiding, yet another mismanaged bit of House funds. Aliks’s face betrayed no emotion, as was usual when she worked with Gerault. Aliks wanted nothing more than to be a good Second in order that she might be a grand Dowayne. And that meant putting up with Gerault’s poor attitude and behavior. How Gerault was able to keep Aliks in the dark about his misdealings or how Aliks was able to ignore them was a mystery Petrea could not solve.

“Of course,” Aliks murmured. “I will leave this for your review.” She turned to leave, and paused, seeing her friend. Petrea cringed inwardly. She despised these moments. “Oh! Petrea! My dear, I did not see you there. I did not mean to interrupt your….?” Aliks trailed off, raising an eyebrow at Petrea.

Petrea kept silent, far too experienced with this situation to speak. Gerault would make up some lie, and she dare not contradict it. 

“Petrea wanted to practice a piece. A patron complained that she stumbled over it, and I wanted to help her perfect it.” 

“Well, yes, I…of course.” Aliks stumbled over her words. Petrea knew that Aliks would ask her about this later, and Petrea had no idea what she would say. Gerault was careful to keep this so far from Aliks’s eyes. When Petrea had first cried to her best friend about his poor treatment, Aliks had been aghast but unbelieving. She had been sure that the Dowayne would not pick on their friend. It was just impossible, Aliks had said, their history ran too deep. Ever since then, Petrea had been tight-lipped about her situation. “I shall leave you both to it, then. Thank you for your time, Dowayne.” Aliks withdrew and closed the door behind her.

Petrea didn’t move a muscle, waiting to see what Gerault would do now that Aliks knew she was in the office with him. Surely, he would dismiss her soon? Or perhaps, his “help” would be needed for many more hours.

“Get up,” Gerault snapped, his tone full of annoyance. “I can’t have you sitting here now.

Petrea stood slowly, placing her instrument gently on the floor, her feet tingling as the blood rushed into her muscles. She kept her eyes on the floor. If nothing else, she did not want to see the hatred in Gerault’s eyes. It was too painful. She folded her hands gracefully in front of her and waited.

He heaved a great and tired sigh. “You are such a disappointment, Petrea. I simply don’t understand why you cannot get these things right. Why I have to deal with so many complaints. It is embarrassing. You once showed so much promise. I thought you would become so much better than you have. And yet, here we are.” He clicked his tongue. “It is almost like you are forgetting all of your training as you grow older. It is no wonder you languish without any patrons.” 

Petrea’s heart clenched at his remarks. She knew that patrons did not complain about her. Her patrons complimented her, told her how wonderful her skills were—those few patrons she did see. But it was not for lack of interest. She knew that Gerault turned away patrons, telling them she was unavailable, or steering any new patrons to other adepts who would be “a better fit.” Her longtime patrons asked her for more assignations, promising large gifts if she could fit them into her schedule. All she could do was demure and tell them to speak to the Dowayne. Tell them that he was in charge of managing these things. It was something forced on no other adept—everyone else saw patrons when they wished. When asked about it, Petrea would simply shrug and say that she was not one to question the Dowayne’s mind and was sure it was for the best.

Despite Gerault and everything he put her through, she still loved Cereus House. She loved the Night Court. And she loved her fellow adepts. And somewhere, deep in her heart, she still loved Gerault. She loved the man he once had been. Every time she went to the temples of Blessed Elua and Naamah, she would pray for Gerault. She would pray that he would find his way back to himself. And yet, her prayers went still unanswered.

“I’m finished with you,” Gerault said with finality after a long stretch of silence. “Go to your room. I’ll see if the servants have anything left from their supper and have it sent to you. If not, I’m sure there are some bread crusts.” It was one of his favorite punishments: denying her the rich foods that the other adepts and patrons ate. She had long ago stopped caring.

“Yes, Dowayne,” she murmured and gave a low curtsy.

“Get out of here. I don’t want to see you until morning,” he snapped.

Petrea bobbed her head and backed out of the room as she had been instructed to do. As though he were royalty, he expected her to never turn her back on him. It was a most ridiculous thing, and only expected of her, but he did it to convey his power. To Petrea, it only conveyed his foolish pride. 

She closed the door behind her and leaned on it, letting out a deep breath and closing her eyes for a moment. Two young adepts scurried by, side-eyeing her as they did. She heard whispers as they continued down the hall, and she knew what they were saying. It was no secret that she was Gerault’s favorite “whipping girl.” Most everyone avoided her, not wanting to draw his eye as well. It was such a lonely existence. Only Aliks, purposely shielded from everything, still treated Petrea as she always had. Aliks’s lover, Aimee, was kind to Petrea, but they had no true friendship or kinship. 

Insidious

Belisario did not attend his father’s funeral. The idea of spending his entire day on the old man made him want to be sick. Everyone thought Olivier was some sort of paragon of the Night Court, but Belisario knew they were all wrong. 

All he’d wanted his entire life was all the love and adoration his parents had, but they were always focused on his brother, Tobias. Even after all these years, the mere thought of Tobias made Belisario’s blood boil. At first, Belisario was ignored because Tobias was born sickly, something Belisario could never understand. He assumed it was the Heliotrope weakness that drove his parents to care for the sick infant instead of letting it die. It made no sense to Belisario, even as a child, to waste time and effort and attention on something that clearly had one foot in the grave from birth. Showering that attention on the child they had would have been the right thing from a numbers standpoint. Later, after Tobias recovered, the attention Belisario was owed as the oldest was denied him because Tobias was so good at everything. Tobias, the perfect Heliotrope, even as a child, though that really had no worth. What value did softness, empathy, and warmth really have? They were useless coins that his weak parents valued above all else, leading them to ignore the only child they had of any worth: Belisario. His sisters were not even worth mentioning or thinking about. They were stronger from birth, he begrudgingly gave them that. They survived the few times he tried to remove them. Belisario was already out of Heliotrope by the time Tobias’s “accident” finally fell into place. A lesser man would have moved on from the mistreatment and let his brother live, but Belisario was a strong man who was willing to do what needed to be done. Olivier and Geraldine deserved to know a fraction of the pain they’d put Belisario through with their choice to ignore him.

“Now that the old man was finally dead,” Bellisario thought, “I can finally claim what should rightfully be mine.” He sealed the letter to the advocate he used for all his legal matters then dropped it in the bowl in the main hall of Bryony. A runner would deliver it, and the first steps of taking back all that the old man owned from that weak, caged bird would begin. Belisario came first, it was time to make sure she understood that.

~

On the other side of the city, far from Mont Nuit and the wealth that surrounded it, was a modest townhouse. It sat on the far edge of a respectable quarter, a fact that drove its occupant crazy. Kyrian had been told by his last landlady that a man banned from the Night Court was not welcome in her establishment. The only reason he’d had to listen to her was that she called the guard after he’d made his stance on women telling him what to do clear to her. He snorted, she was weak of course, she was only a woman after all, but the guards were weak and that angered Kyrian. After all, they were men, trained to fight, to keep the King’s law, to be strong. When they sided with her and had physically removed him from his rooms, all Kyrian felt was red hot rage.

Women needed to be reminded of their place. The angels knew, none of the women tried to counsel Elua or tell him what to do: they followed Him obediently, used the only value they had to ensure His comfort, and elevated Him.

His pet needed the reminder more than most. Now that the old man was dead, Kyrian could get to her again. He was unafraid of anyone in that House, even the freak half-breed. He had shown that with his funerary arrangement. It was only the start of his plans for his pet. She thought she could get away from him when she chose. He would show her that Kyrian was the only one allowed to decide how things went.