After visiting Bryony, time flowed more normally. Mena went to Cereus for tea and made friends with Petrea, while Loir wrote weekly about the goings on at Laurent’s. Mena’s aunts visited with their families, and Olivier seemed to slow his decline. Business in Heliotrope carried on as it always did: two babies were born, a novice left them for Balm while one joined them from Dahlia and another from Camelia, a marque was made and a party was thrown, and Mena felt herself relaxing. She even resumed seeing patrons, something that she realized she had missed.
All her life, she had been told that love was the warmth of the sun, but she realized that she’d not really understood that to the depths of her soul. Mena had never seen mountains, but she’d listened to the dye merchants one evening tell of how they dominated the sky, how their shadows were cold and complete no matter the position of the sun, how there was snow on some that never melted, and above all, how they were dangerous beyond comprehension. She, in that, understood that Kyrie was like that, blocking out the warmth of love from all around him and bringing with him a risk of ruin and demise. It took all she had to not shiver as she listened, but she allowed herself to pull her shawl tighter around her shoulders. A mug of hot cider appeared in her vision, and she looked up to see the smiling face of the caravan leader. He was young for a leader, but his men trusted him completely, something that was honestly rare at any age.
She wrapped her hands around the mug and smiled back at him. “Thank you, how did you know this was what I needed?”
His smile was easy and open, making his already handsome face breathtaking. ‘“You don’t have to be a Heliotrope to know what people need, Dowayne.” His tone was light and teasing, she found her smile widening. He went on,“Make sure you ask Dom about what he saved us from on this trip. And make sure you get warm, Dowayne”
Mena couldn’t respond because the man slipped away back to his seat across the room. She watched as he sat down in a plush chair and picked up his own steaming mug of cider. He was seated alone, though a nearby adept leaned over and whispered to him, making him laugh easily. Gods, he was gorgeous, dark hair, tanned skin, strong frame. She realized that, even though his caravan had been coming to them for over a year, she somehow did not know his name.
“I barely know what else to tell you all, surely someone has questions,” the man speaking, who had to be named Dom, asked, good humor lacing his tone.
Mena shifted to sit up more and cleared her throat. “I have one for our brave visitor. I heard a rumor that you did more than just look at mountains and think of their dangers. Please tell us about your bravery so we can celebrate you as you deserve.”
Dom blushed to the tips of his ears and down the open neck of his shirt, looking immediately at his leader. “Boss, really?”
Mena looked over at the leader, seeing his ready grin, how he didn’t answer but raised his mug and an eyebrow at Dom. Dom sighed. “Have any of you ever seen a brown bear the size of a horse?”
~
As the yearly Cereus Masque looked closer and closer, Mena felt unexplained tension rising. She checked and rechecked that preparations were going to plan; they were. The adepts and novices were all doing well, including the two who would have their debut at the Masque; nothing out of the ordinary. The House was in good physical repair, the larder and pantry were full to the brim thanks in part to how busy the House was after the Plague. The dye merchant, who still had not introduced himself, and his caravan had just left to return to their hometowns for the solstice. The House was quieter in their absence, something she didn’t think she’d notice as acutely as she did.
Perhaps it was personal, this feeling of rising tension. She had not heard from Kyrian in months, and while that should be good news, it was a fact that made her uneasy. A knock at the door to her rooms pulled her thoughts back to the present. Happily pushing Kyrian out of her mind, she called out, “Yes, come in.”
It took a moment, but in came one of the children, a boy around two with deep auburn hair and big brown eyes, with an envelope held in each hand, his face showing deep concentration as he crossed the carpets on unsteady legs. Mena smiled, big and bright, beckoning to him. “Oh, baby James! I see you’ve brought me my letters!”
James happily babbled an answer and sped up, excited now to reach her. Mena had no idea how it was in other Houses, but in Heliotrope, babies and children stayed with their parents. Their nursery only got used in the evenings, when someone was ill, or if a foundling had just arrived. Mena leaned down and scooped James up onto her lap, making a silly noise when she did to encourage a laugh from him. “Why thank you for bringing me the post, sweet boy,” she said as she extracted the letters from his chubby little hands. They were surprisingly unwrinkled given how they’d gotten to her. She set them aside and focused on James. “Now, let’s see if you’re still as ticklish as you were yesterday!”
He was; his laughter rang through her rooms and down the hall. Mena laughed along with him, pretending that he’d trapped her when his hands tangled in her hair. She played with him like this until his mother came around the corner. “Alright my sweet angel, let’s go get some food and let Mena open her letters.”
Mena made a show of holding onto James for a minute, enjoying the way he laughed. When he was back in his mother’s arms she said, “He is such a sweet, happy baby. You were truly blessed to have him.”
His mother smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as she left, her response trailing off as she left Mena’s rooms. “I know. I just love him so much.”
For a minute, Mena just sat there, the feeling of longing for love and closeness washing over her. That was a problem for another day, she knew, but sometimes her rooms felt too quiet.
She sighed and looked at the letters. One was from Olivier and the other was from Loir, neither one a surprise. Loir wrote every week, letting Mena know how things were going, telling her about the visits from her aunts and many of Olivier’s friends, as well as giving her any updates from the churigeons. She set that one aside for after Olivier’s. Carefully opening the envelope, she pulled out the single sheet of paper. The handwriting was the same, albeit shakier than it had been. Still, she smiled, he had taken the energy to write her and in her mind’s eye she could see him, a lap desk with an ink bottle balancing precariously on his lap, writing her this letter:
My dearest baby duck, it has been a while since I called you that. It’s true still, you are and always will be my baby duck. Things here are going as expected. I know that you’ll think that you want to come visit, but we both know you are too busy right now. Don’t worry, I know that you’d be here every second if that was possible. I wanted you to know that I love you more than all the snowflakes that fall in winter and more than all the rain that comes in the summer. You have done well with the House, perhaps better than I did when I was Second. I have no doubt that you will be the best Dowayne. I know too that you are lonely, lacking your own sun to bask in. It will come, my sweetest baby duck, it will come, and it will be like the rain never existed. I am getting tired now, I will end with this: you are loved, so deeply. Never doubt that. I have loved you since you were born, Always, Your Gran-perè
She sat for a minute, holding the letter to her chest, tears gathering slowly on her lashline, a few managing to spill down her cheeks. He knew, as he always did, exactly what she needed.
~
The day of Cereus’s Midwinter Masquerade dawned cold, bitingly so, with high, thin clouds. The sun’s rays slid slowly through the streets and across rooftops to reach Mena where she stood on her balcony, bundled against the cold. She had no idea why she woke up in the haze of pre-dawn, she just had. It was rare this time of year to see the sunrise, so she had taken the opportunity to step out and watch the winter sun rise above the rooftops of the City, the castle, and Mont Nuit. After a few minutes, she went back to her bed to sleep until midday.
She thought that she would sleep fitfully, but she had instead fallen deeply asleep as soon as her head hit her pillows. The smell of coffee and fresh bread pulled her into wakefulness, and when she opened her eyes, she smiled. There was Claudette, her favorite maid, with a tray and her usual bright smile. “M’lady Mena,” she said with her heavy rustic accent. “It’s time to get up and eat! Then I’ll help you with your hair. The party should be great fun this year!”
Mena stretched, surprised at how rested she felt, sitting up and taking the tray with a nod of thanks. “That it should Claudette. Will you be spending the evening with the rest of the servants?”
“Aye, I will! It’s my first Midwinter party, I am very excited!”
Mena smiled. “What House is hosting the servants’ ball this year?”
Claudette was pulling Mena’s costume out of her wardrobe, fluffing it out before laying it over one of the overstuffed chairs. “That would be Jasmine, m’lady.”
Mena reached out and put her hand on Claudette’s arm. “Just Mena, Claudette.” She laughed. “I know it’s hard to adjust, but I promise, the only lords and ladies are the ones that come visit us.”
Claudette laughed easily and heartily. “I know mi-Mena,” she said while she laid out what she needed to do Mena’s hair. “And you’re right, it is hard to adjust. Not every House is as relaxed as Heliotrope.”
Mena knew Claudette’s family had worked for a different House for several generations, though she didn’t know which one specifically. “Mm,” she said, nodding. “You say that Jasmine is hosting? You really got lucky that the first Midwinter you’re old enough to attend, the party is there. That is one thing off my mind, however, I know that all of you will be happy and have a wonderful celebration this evening.”
She got up and moved to the stool so Claudette could start on her hair. The time passed easily since they were able to talk comfortably with each other. Soon it was time to get into her costume, and Mena started to feel excited for the evening. Technically, she could get in and out of the dress on her own, but she let Claudette continue to fuss over her.
Mena was about to put her mask on when she heard the front door of the House slam open. She jumped, her heart in her throat immediately, though she didn’t move. It was like her feet were frozen to the floor. There was a commotion, and she heard several pairs of feet running up the stairs and down the hall. Time seemed to slow, seconds stretched out to an eternity as Loir’s tear-streaked face came into view. The young woman skidded to a halt, her hands braced on the doorframe, her eyes locked on Mena’s. The world started to shift under her feet and she knew: he was gone.