by G. H. Duval
Still confused by his words, she decided not to ruin the moment and press the issue. She felt certain he would confide in her when he was ready. Spring beamed at him, almost giddy at the return of her friend as she knew him. “Forgive what?” she asked, lightly, all his slights and strange behavior forgotten.
“Now!” she demanded, digging back into her lunch with eagerness. “I want to hear ALL about the Formynder. And is it true you’ve been doing exercises with the Kirin boy? Don’t leave anything out!”
Sixteen
“Heed the presence of cycles so as to know when to repeat them. And when to break them.”
–Helig Ra’d, Teachings of the Great Shepherd
As evening descended in full, Spring found herself waiting outside the main entrance of the Steading. She was dressed in a gown that had been a gift from Lady Hevlin: a dress of heavy brocade, green of course, with shimmering silver ribbons of satin that crossed her body at the bust and hips. She had needed Anleah’s help in donning it, which had caused her to comment on how strange it was to make a garment that the wearer could not wear without help. Anleah had explained that aristocratic young ladies have attendants to assist them in such matters. Accompanying the gown was a cloak, lined with fur, that Spring had originally thought rather indulgent. As she stood quite comfortably in the cold evening air, however, she was doubly thankful for the gift.
As punctual as ever, Jayden arrived in a carriage at the precise time he had promised in his earlier note to her via Missive Station. A footman held the carriage door, and Jayden emerged. He wore a crushed velvet doublet so dark it appeared black, but hints of the deep forest green could be seen as he moved in the torchlight. Thick leggings ended in shining black boots, and his cape draped from his shoulders. The sight of him left her breath sticking in her throat.
He bent over her hand, brushed it lightly with his lips, and stood to regard her in that still way of his. She flushed—hoping that he would not see the full effect in the lamplight—but managed to maintain a steady gaze. Playfully, she bobbed a curtsy and murmured, “My Lord.”
He did not return her playful tone.
“You are beautiful, my Spring,” he said, his voice deep as he turned and pulled her arm through his. She almost giggled at the gesture as they were, literally, three strides from the carriage. Instead, she returned his compliment as they moved into the carriage.
“And you are as handsome as ever.” He is in a mood, she thought. She wondered if he, too, was concerned about her first formal meeting with the two men who steered his life: his uncle, the Duke she’d never met, and his father, with whom she’d only shared few words in passing.
In short order, they moved off from the Steading toward Duke Hevlin’s home. Spring enjoyed the marked change from the almost silent slate roads to the steady clip-clop of the cobblestones of the city proper. Though the roads were well maintained, and oil lamps burned at regular intervals, Spring could barely make out the city beyond the carriage’s window. She resolved to spend some of her rest days away from the Steading to immerse herself in all the capital had to offer. Of particular interest to her was a bakery that specialized in something called, “cocoa,” a delicacy from Senechal. Dirk had taken Anleah there and both had been raving ever since about the treats that had cost them their full allowance.
In what seemed a relatively short time, the carriage turned off onto a smaller, smoother track. The Hevlin estate, it appeared, was situated far closer to the seat of power than she had realized. Set atop a small rise rose Hevlin Manor—the home of the Duke and the formal head of House Hevlin. A wall surrounding the grounds boasted a string of wrought-iron oil lamps, each with a flame ablaze within, that ran the length of the entire wall. Spring was aghast at the expense of not only installing but maintaining the lamps. The effect of their glow, however, was stunning—the structure towered above them, as if hovering in the air. The carriage came to a halt, and the footman held the door as Jayden helped her descend.
Up close, Spring was powerfully reminded of the splendor of the Steading. The Manor seemed more compound than home, and it exuded power and wealth. Spring had no idea that a structure could convey so much, but this residence of great marble slabs and ornate scroll work most certainly did so.
Jayden once more slid her arm through his, and they walked toward the front doors. Before they reached the absurdly large double doors—walnut, Spring recognized easily—the doors swung open to reveal two women; one Spring recognized instantly as Jayden’s mother, but the other was new to her.
“Spring, my dear! I have so missed you!” Lady Greyta Hevlin immediately pulled Spring into an embrace and guided her through the imposing entrance. The other woman gushed over Jayden with similar enthusiasm and followed behind.
Inside was surprisingly warm, both literally and figuratively. While the word “cavernous” came to mind, as Spring was ushered from the foyer into the parlor, she appreciated the deliberate efforts the Hevlins had made to turn the space from intimidating to intimate. The room she entered was lavishly decorated with burgundy and gold, and the theme echoed throughout the rugs, tapestries, and upholstery with touches of cream and evergreen where the eye would catch them most keenly. Added to the warm palette were several candelabra and a large crystal chandelier, which created their own warmth but also captured and reflected that which was emanating from the substantial hearth at the far end of the room. As Spring paused at the threshold, overwhelmed, a servant wordlessly strode up behind her, slid her cloak from her shoulders, and melted away before she could even acknowledge that the interaction had occurred.
Lady Greyta held one of Spring’s hands in hers and gently pulled Spring toward the hearth and an all-too familiar silhouette.
“Mama!” Spring said, delighted, as she reached the hearth. Her mother beamed back at her and embraced her fiercely.
They had not seen in each other in more than a fortnight, as Spring had spent her last rest day with Mina. “I had no idea you would be here!” Their time apart, coupled with the forced routines of the Steading and the threat, however unlikely, that the First might change her mind at any moment, had gone a long way to mending the break between them. It also had not occurred to her until the moment she’d spotted her mother how very much it soothed her to have someone present who was part of her people and not just part of House Hevlin.
Her mother smiled and drawled, “Yes, dear. That’s why it is called a surprise.” Spring turned, looking for Jayden, and found that he remained at the threshold to the parlor, chatting amiably with her father—another surprise.
“We thought it important that your parents join us this evening,” the woman who had welcomed Jayden said as she joined them. Her tone was light as if sharing a joke, though Spring was not privy to it. The woman was tall and lean—graceful, but not soft. She wore a red gown made of velvet, trimmed in gold satin. At her neck was the largest ruby Spring had ever seen. Her dark hair was swept back from her face in an intricate bun, and a matching set of ruby earrings dangled against a long neck. Where Lady Greyta was round—a clear mark of her Farkoasian heritage—this woman was angular, with dark hair, dark eyes, and dark auburn skin. Spring realized, belatedly, that the woman was of Senechali descent, and from what Anleah had mentioned earlier, must be the Duchess Hevlin. She appreciated anew just how comfortable House Hevlin was with the unconventional.
The Duchess was, unsurprisingly, beautiful, and her eyes, though kind, were clearly marking every detail about Spring, just as Spring was cataloguing her.
“Spring, let me introduce the Duchess Reinna Hevlin,” Lady Greyta said.
“Your Grace,” Spring murmured, sinking into an appropriately deep curtsy.
Reinna laughed, and the genuine sound of it released the coil that had sprouted in Spring’s belly. “None of that now, dear,” she said, touching Spring lightly on the cheek as she rose from her curtsy. “We’re to be family soon enough. Jayden mentioned that you’ve not been making much time to step away from the
Steading and rest properly. Jayden has a set of rooms here, and now, so do you. It is our hope that you will avail yourself of them on your rest days while completing your education in our lovely city.”
“Your Grace!” Spring breathed, shocked. “That is too generous.”
“It is not.” Again, she touched Spring’s cheek lightly, somehow managing to convey a possessiveness that was inviting, drawing Spring into her spell, before turning to Lena. “What impeccable manners, Lena. You must be so proud.” Spring marveled at this woman who was able to accomplish much with so few words, as if she had an Aspect all her own.
“I am,” her mother whispered, her eyes fixed on Spring’s.
The women chatted idly for a time, the conversation primarily consisting of Spring attempting to sate the curiosity of the Ladies Hevlin about all things “Shepherd,” and their fervent acceptance of her began to make much more sense. For Spring possessed that one elusive quality that no amount of their wealth and influence could ever grant them. After a time, a servant summoned them to “go through” to dinner, whatever that meant, but Spring followed the group into a large dining hall.
Dinner was unlike anything Spring had ever experienced and most certainly not the simple meal between soon-to-be family she’d been led to expect. She was seated at an enormous table that had been sculpted from the same gorgeous walnut that made up the main doors, and both its condition and the subtle, gentle working that had turned it clearly marked the work of an au Terre—better evidence of the wealth and good taste of the Hevlins than the superfluous trappings that sat upon it. Before her sat not one, but five dishes, stacked one atop the other. Anleah had prepared her for this as they had visited the baths together and had gone through the many painstaking steps Anleah had insisted were needed to prepare Spring for the evening.
The topmost dish was a shallow bowl, which she expected as Anleah had explained they would most likely start the meal with soup—though it wouldn’t be called that—and it would be cold, of all things. The next plate, which was quite small, would be for a cold morsel of food that was supposed to prepare the diner for the main meal—absurdity! Then another slightly larger plate beneath that would be used for a warm morsel—apparently, she was still not expected to be ready to eat the main course. Finally, the larger dinner plate would be used to serve what Spring thought of as an actual dinner. How she was supposed to have room for that after three other miniature meals first, she did not know. The final plate at the bottom, which was so large as to dwarf all the others, was not even used for eating but was just for show!
Will I ever come to think of this as normal, she wondered. But, however strange and excessive, it was beautiful. That fifth and final dish was a deep crimson that popped against the bone-white dishes and caught in the three crystal goblets set out for her—one for water and the other two for wine. There were also two knives, three forks, and a spoon—all of pure, shining silver—set out on either side of her charger. Anleah had explained the use of each and when to use them, but she simply had not retained it. Instead, as each course was served by yet more dignified, liveried servants, Spring cast fleeting glances at Lady Hevlin and mirrored her.
At the head of the table next to Lady Hevlin was Duke Matas Hevlin, and to his right sat Jayden’s father, Lord Jav Hevlin. At once, Spring noted the symmetry of the seating arrangement—the Duke and Duchess sat directly across from one another at either end of the table, Jayden’s parents sat across from one another—as did her parents—and she and Jayden were placed across from each other from where they sat sandwiched between parents; she between the two mothers, and he between the two fathers.
At the far end of the table, making up what she thought of as Duchess Reinna’s contingent—for they had been introduced as members of her extended family—were two more couples and a girl, introduced as Melorie, who seemed a few years older than Mina. She sat between her parents and was practicing her dramatic talents at producing varying degrees of contempt and pouting. Spring marveled that she was indulged in such behavior, which her own mother would never have permitted, but left off her musings as the Duke was speaking to Jayden’s father (who had been asked for and was reciting a list of the most interesting items he had procured from his latest visit to Farkoast), so Spring turned her attention to him.
They had progressed through the first three courses, and as what they called “the entrée” was served, the Duke seemed to be done with the small talk that had marked the previous three courses. He took a modest bite of the roasted fish—liberally coated in butter, herbs, garlic, and cream—and followed that with a substantial swallow of the sweet, golden wine that had been served with it. He sighed with pleasure and leaned forward, steepling his hands over his plate. Sighing inwardly, Spring set down her utensils. She had noticed throughout the meal that when the Duke paused for more than a moment in eating, so did the others.
“Excellent, Jav,” he said, his tone mild and relaxed, as Jayden’s father concluded. “And what did you omit from your official report this time?” His eyes conveyed mirth, and Jayden’s father chuckled, reaching for his own goblet of shimmering, pale wine.
“You know me too well, Matas,” Jayden’s father said. “Without fail, every trip, something occurs that piques my curiosity. This trip, there were two such moments.” He had the Duke’s full attention with that, as he had them all. He leaned forward slightly so that he could look down the length of the table.
“In Farkoast,” he began, and Spring realized he was speaking directly to Lady Reinna’s family, the younger couple of which were visiting Coerdom from Senechal for the first time.
“Foreigners must obtain a Rëmëdas—a sponsor, of sorts—to engage in trade with the Frälse—the Noble Houses who control the highest quality goods. Thanks to Greyta’s having taken pity on me and taking me to husband, we were permitted to begin the process of seeking a Rëmëdas. After several years of persistence and many, many gifts, House Hevlin procured the favor of the Rosentråle family, the Duchess of which is cousin to the Farkoasian Queen.”
Spring glanced at her parents, who were just as attentive as those whom Jayden’s father addressed, and she was relieved that she was not the only one at the table to be ignorant of such matters. She was grateful that he provided the education in such a way as to suggest that she and her family already knew what he shared.
“We were doubly fortunate in that Duke Rosentråle also serves as the Margrave for the Farkoasian Crown, which of course, opened several avenues for the exchange of martial goods.” He paused, seeming to realize he was traveling off topic, and waved a hand as if to dismiss his own words. “I tell you this so that the rest of my news will have context.” Satisfied, he leaned back into his chair and refocused on his brother. “When we arrived, the usual contingent of House Rosentråle was at the port to meet us, save for Count Rosentråle, who has never failed to come in person, as is only proper. I was sent his regrets with the explanation that his youngest daughter had taken ill, and he had traveled to Aglindhólme for treatment.”
Due to her recent niche lessons, even Spring knew that to be Farkoast’s capital; it was located near the north end of the country, far from the southwestern port where the Hevlins landed and conducted trade, so she assumed the poor child must have been ill, indeed, to require such travel to receive care. Something about the tale nagged at her, but she ignored it as she did not want to risk missing a single part of Lord Jav’s story.
“For the entire trip—all three weeks we were in residence—he did not return. And his household was oddly…unsettled.” He paused, remembering, as he swirled the wine in his goblet. Spring watched it and thought it too beautiful to be consumed. After a few sips of her own and enduring the slight, pulsing headache that began as a result, she had decided to keep to water. “I tell you,” he insisted in a conspiratorial tone, “something was amiss there. There were too many odd looks passing between the family and their staff. They were keen to keep us otherwise occupied, as if they wer
e hiding something.” His voice trailed off, leaving them all to think on what that “something” might be.
“And what was the second thing?” asked Lady Reinna mildly. She seemed uninterested in the gossip regarding House Rosentråle.
“Ah!” Lord Jav declared. “That was even more strange!” He set down his goblet and gestured exaggeratedly as he spoke. “On the day we were to depart, I found Ambassador-Shepherd Serrin, herself, awaiting me.” This drew surprised breaths and wide eyes from around the table and Lady Reinna even gasped. Lord Jav nodded emphatically, clearly pleased that his audience was as impressed with this occurrence as he had been.
“She informed me that her charges were due a furlough, and as the Firsts had already dispatched their replacements to aid her in her work, there was no need for her current charges to delay in returning home. She asked me, as only a Spirit Shepherd can,” here, he looked meaningfully around the table, and Spring wondered if he meant to convey the sense of impending doom she read in his gaze. “To carry them with us. It took some scrambling to make room for two au L’espris at the last moment, you can be sure! Seamen are a superstitious lot, and I had my hands full making the Shepherds comfortable while doing my best to keep them cloistered and away from my crew.”
“Well that is silly,” declared Melorie, the sulking female youth, and she did nothing to hide her contempt for the party as a whole. “Anyone serving as an apprentice to the Ambassador could surely be trusted, no?” She seemed genuinely baffled and irked by the general response of the group to the presence of Spirit Shepherds.
Spring spoke before she even realized that she had intended to. “I wonder, Melorie,” she said, her tone as sweet as she could make it. “Have you ever actually met a fully trained au L’espri?”
