Happiness in Numbers

by Nicole Field

  Demons and witches, though? Still not so much. Vie had been at war with Pavra for decades, and that sort of bias didn't fade fast. There were plenty who thought that the peace treaty that King Yue had arranged with Pavra's Witch-Prince was too tenuous to last. Although Vie's borders were open, and it wasn't illegal here to practice spellcraft (like Lucie did) or be a demon (like Foxglove was), it also wasn't something everyone found terribly respectable.

  Which, Foxglove realized with a heavy sinking feeling, was probably particularly unpleasant when the girl you were dating suddenly just-so-happened to be royalty.

  "Are you still hoping for a right time to tell her?" Foxglove asked. "Because—and correct me if I'm wrong, Lu—that seems to no longer be in the cards." When Lucie didn't answer right away, he pressed: "Are you going to hide it, or are you going to tell her?"

  He knew how much Suri meant to her. Lucie had moved to Vie when she was a teenager, after several years of wandering from country to country with a travelling troupe. From them, she'd learned the basics of her craft—parlor tricks, mostly, tiny bits of magic that could astonish and amaze, but also be passed off as sleight of hand and nonsense if anybody were to look too closely.

  When she was fourteen, she'd summoned her first (and only) demon, and between Lucie and Foxglove, they had scrounged together enough coin to settle down in a small place in Vie by the time she was seventeen. After that, she began to study at the national library, and—with only a little help from Foxglove—eventually caught the attention of sponsors at the university who recognized her potential.

  Now she was living her dream, enhancing her magic with non-magical healing, learning what she could about pharmaceuticals and physiology from professors and institutions during the day while tinkering with potions and spellbooks and magic spells into the late hours.

  Falling in love hadn't really been part of the plan. Lucie had always been always so focused on her studies that interacting with anybody outside Marigold and Foxglove was something to be avoided at all costs. But then along came Suri, a whirlwind of smiles as bright as the sun, an effusively enthusiastic spirit with a clever, analytical mind and dimpled cheeks, and Lucie had been smitten.

  Turning his attention outward again, Foxglove reached out and smoothed a hand down over Lucie's loose curls, mindful of his claws. "Lu?" he prompted, gently.

  Lucie let out a muffled sound in response, her narrow shoulders tightening then relaxing under his touch. "Of course I'm going to tell her," she said finally, turning her face to the side and dangling her arm off the side of the bed. One of the little mice she kept around poked its head out from under the blankets, sniffing at her fingertips, then retreated when it realized Lucie had no food to offer. Cornflower, Foxglove identified—he recognized the little scar where Lucie had healed the mouse's tail back on.

  "I promised I'd go to the masquerade," Lucie continued, after taking a deep breath. "She wants me to meet her parents. I'll just have to… talk to her privately before she introduces me, and tell her, and if she decides she wants me to leave, then…" She trailed off. Her glasses were smudged from where they pushed up against her cheek, lenses fogged on the inside and slightly damp with tears, but her mouth was set in a stubborn, determined line.

  "I'm sure if she's as good a person as you've told me she is, she'll understand," Foxglove said as sincerely as he could, wishing that he meant it more.

  Lucie sat up, sniffling, and gave him a wobbly smile. "You really think so?"

  "I have faith in you," Foxglove said, taking one of Lucie's hands in both of his own and squeezing tightly. Nobody else, maybe, but Lucie, at least, he believed in. "No matter what, you're going to be fine."

  Lucie wrinkled her nose at him, as if sensing the unspoken evasion behind those words, but seemed mollified enough for now. She leaned forward to rest her head on Foxglove's shoulder, and he lifted his arms automatically to wrap around her carefully.

  "Go with me," Lucie said suddenly.

  Foxglove looked down at her, blankly. "Go—what?"

  "Go with me to the masquerade. I don't want to go alone. It'll be easier if we're together."

  Something stirred in Foxglove's chest, a combination of feelings he wasn't prepared to identify. He braced his hands on Lucie's shoulders and pushed her back to arm's length.

  "Are you out of your mind?" he said flatly. "You can't bring a demon to the palace!"

  "Pavrans are allowed, and a lot of them are demon-summoners," Lucie argued. "Even the Witch-Prince is going. Anyway, you can shapeshift. Nobody has to know."

  "They'll sure suspect when you admit to the princess that you're a witch."

  "And if that's going to turn out to be a problem, shouldn't my familiar be right there with me?"

  Foxglove opened his mouth to protest, found that he couldn't, and just let out a groan, rubbing his hands down over his face. She had a point—and, more importantly, she seemed committed enough to going that he absolutely wasn't going to let her face this alone. "You're awfully manipulative when you want to be," he muttered.

  Lucie leaned against him again, though, so he figured she understood that he meant 'yes.'

  Fen

  It was the day before the festival, two days after their last visit to Lucie's place, and all Fen wanted was for Suri to have a chance to relax. They were having last-minute adjustments made to their outfits for the masquerade, but despite Suri's usual enthusiasm for fashion and event-planning, she was distracted—Fen could tell her heart wasn't really in it.

  When the tailor turned away to jot down some measurements, Fen inclined their head slightly, leaning down to murmur in Suri's ear. "Hey. Are you nervous?"

  Suri jerked her head up, snapping back to reality with a small jolt. She looked startled at first, then sheepishly apologetic, reaching out to tangle her fingers with Fen's.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, smiling faintly. "Have I been worrying you?"

  "A little bit," Fen acknowledged, but found themself relaxing a little. Suri's smile tended to have that effect. "Were you thinking about Lucie?"

  Suri wrinkled her nose. "What a rude date I am, thinking about one lover when I'm with the other. And being caught! Scandalous…"

  Fen rolled their eyes. "As though I mind. Don't change the subject," they chided softly, but had to pause as the tailor returned.

  Suri gave Fen a sidelong glance, but then she was all charm, immediately chattering and lively as the tailor started asking her about her preferred sleeve colors and embroidery styles.

  Huffing softly, Fen settled back to wait it out. As the heir apparent, and frankly just a force of nature, Suri had a powerful ability to keep herself together regardless of the situation. Fen was confident that no matter how things went with Lucie and the masquerade, not a single person outside of Suri's closest confidants would realize that anything was amiss.

  But Fen knew. Fen had sworn that no harm would come to Suri while they were around, and they took this vow very seriously.

  They straightened a little as the tailor turned their attention back to the two of them, catching Suri's eye as the tailor flitted around Fen's much-taller body, clambering up on a step stool to be able to reach Fen's shoulders. Over the tailor's head, Suri grinned at Fen and gave them a wink, mouthing the word 'nice' and making a heart-shaped gesture in the direction of Fen's bare arms.

  Fen felt their cheeks start to burn, and looked pointedly up at the ceiling. The painted mural above the chandelier was starting to peel a little. They'd have to let the Master of the Household know that it needed repairs.

  "Right," the tailor announced after another few moments, giving Fen's shoulder a little pat. "I think you're all set. Whether you choose to wear the dress or the suit tomorrow, I made sure that Princess Suri's escort will continue to turn heads and dazzle the crowd."

  "Thank y—Wait, no, I don't want to turn heads," Fen mumbled, looking to Suri for support, only to find her giggling at them from behind one hand. "Princess—hey, come on…"

&nbs
p; Suri hopped down from her own stool and turned in a fanciful little spin, her flared scarlet dress fanning out around her knees as the sheer flower-patterned sleeves floated behind. Her sleek black hair was fastened in two round buns at the nape of her neck today, but tomorrow she'd be styled to the nines with flower-filled curls framing her round face. She hardly came up to Fen's chest, even in heels, and every curve of her was soft, but she commanded such a presence that Fen was fairly confident that nobody would care about what Fen was wearing to the masquerade tomorrow when there was Suri to gaze upon. Which, in the end, was really how they preferred it.

  "Let's get going," Suri said, lifting her arms as a few assistants came to help her disrobe. "There's still a lot to get done before tomorrow." She was quiet as they changed back into their casual outfits, and seemed to be lost in thought as they headed back towards the Master's Hall where most of the event planning was taking place.

  Fen thought perhaps the window for discussion was over—but then Suri abruptly seized Fen's hand, peeling off to the side and up a narrow staircase, taking them two by two.

  "Princess—" Fen lengthened their stride to keep up, startled. "Suri… Where are we going?"

  "Somewhere to talk," Suri announced. "Somewhere for a break!"

  They exited onto a narrow balcony, shaded with heavy branches that were weighed down with sweet fruit. Down below, brightly-plumaged peacocks roamed around the garden, occasionally screaming at the hydrangeas. Ducks bobbed placidly on the pond, feathers ruffling in the soft breeze.

  Suri released Fen's hand, turning around to brace her hands on the edge of the balcony, then hoisted herself up to sit on the edge of it, facing Fen with her arms outstretched.

  "Be careful," Fen murmured, without much real concern, reaching out to clasp Suri's hands in their own. Suri's face was tilted up, lips curved teasingly, invitingly, so Fen obediently bent down—and kissed her on the forehead.

  "Ah," Suri said, pouting playfully.

  "We're talking," Fen prompted, hiding a smile, but only barely. "What's on your mind?"

  Suri worried at her full lower lip with her teeth for a moment, thoughtful. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked after a moment. "With Lucie? I just assumed she knew…"

  Ah, Fen thought. So that was it. They shook their head. "It didn't occur to me, either," they admitted. "Though in retrospect…"

  "In retrospect," Suri agreed with a little laugh. Fen moved a little closer; Suri took the invitation, immediately burying her face in the soft fabric of Fen's shirt. "I guess… it doesn't change anything, does it? I wanted to make friends with people at university without all of the things that happen to come with being royalty. But I still thought…"

  "She seemed pretty understanding. At least, I think she'll be fine with it, eventually," Fen assured Suri, squeezing her shoulders firmly.

  They thought back to that night. Lucie had mostly seemed stunned at first, then quickly became agreeable. She appeared uncertain about the idea of attending the masquerade, but was willing enough, for Lucie; Fen had spent nearly as much time with her as Suri had, and understood very well that if there was a way to avoid a crowd and a commotion, Lucie would take it. It was one of her many oddities—or charming quirks, depending on how one looked at it.

  As if echoing Fen's thoughts, Suri mumbled, "Maybe we should make sure she can meet Father and Papa in private as soon as she gets here? Then she's really not obligated to stay any longer than she wants. And if she really doesn't like the whole royalty thing…"

  She trailed off. Fen let out a breath, smoothing their hand over the top of Suri's head.

  "There's no point in tying yourself up in knots about your potential future," Fen reminded, gently. "Especially not without talking to the person you're planning it with. Listen—you'll have plenty of duties to worry about tomorrow. It's an important night, what with King Yue inviting the Witch-Prince as a guest of honor. You focus on that. I'll go fetch Lucie when she gets here. You just set a time and place with Their Majesties, and I'll bring Lucie to you."

  Suri let out a little sigh, wrapping her arms tightly around Fen's waist and squeezing. "Alright," she said. "That sounds sensible." She paused, looking up at Fen with a soft expression, grateful and only a little mischievous. "Hey, I love you, Fen."

  Fen had heard those words hundreds of times before, but they still made their heart do dramatic somersaults in their chest. They could feel the tips of their ears burning.

  "I love you too," they mumbled. "Now… let's get back to work."

  Lucie

  Lucie was completely overwhelmed by the number of people streaming through the gates of the castle on the night of the festival. She'd never seen so many people all in one place, laughing and yelling and elbowing each other with excitement. The air was buzzing with scents and sounds: sizzling meat being hawked from roadside stands, spun sugar being coaxed into towering clouds, the rattle of tambourines and toe-tapping string music.

  She clutched Foxglove's hand tightly as they made their way towards the palace. He was staring straight ahead, mouth pressed in a thin line, but he glanced over as he felt her gaze on him, offering her an immediate, reassuring smile.

  Lucie made a face. It was still his smile, crooked and a bit sharp, with a bit of a mocking edge even though the expression was warm—but his face was all wrong.

  "Alright, Lu?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd.

  "You look weird!"

  "What?"

  "You look weird!"

  Foxglove rolled his eyes, glancing away again. His profile was still the same—a long, thin nose that turned up a little at the end, dark heavy brows, a generously wide mouth. But that mouth was usually filled with sharp teeth, and now they were flat and even; his skin, usually a vibrant shade of turquoise, was a soft brown; his curled horns were missing, and his pointed ears were rounded. His eyes were still a bright golden color, but even that seemed out of place with his sclera colored white instead of black.

  "You could have kept the ears," Lucie said, pressing close to his side. Elves weren't uncommon, and even as a half-elf, Lucie's were slightly pointed. "It's not just a… a you-know-what thing."

  Foxglove shrugged one shoulder, but a moment later, his ears shifted, just a little. "Better?"

  "Don't do that in public!" Lucie hissed.

  "Nobody was paying any attention to me, Lu," Foxglove rolled his eyes, but he glanced around after he said that, as if checking to make sure. Apparently satisfied, he looked back over at her again. "Why are you criticizing me? You're the one that wanted me to do this."

  "I know," she said, feeling a small pang of guilt at the thought. She was beyond grateful that she didn't have to face this alone, but she knew it wasn't exactly easy on Foxglove, either. "I'm sorry. I just like how you look normally. It's much better…" Frowning, Lucie reached out to tuck a lock of Foxglove's dark hair behind one ear with her free hand.

  She felt strangely vindicated that it stayed there. Pointed ears really were superior after all.

  Strangely, Foxglove abruptly leaned back away from her touch, letting out a huff of breath. She blinked, hand drifting in the air between them for a moment, before she dropped it.

  "I like how I look normally better, too," Foxglove said quickly, almost inaudibly. "Being like this is too vulnerable. Human skin is so fragile." Seizing her hand, he tugged her along more firmly, until she was practically trotting to keep up with him. "Listen, let's just get this over with. The sooner we're out of here, the better, right?"

  Lucie wasn't sure what just happened in Foxglove's head, but it wasn't exactly a great place to talk, so she let it go, and followed Foxglove obediently. The crowds began to thin as they passed through the outer gates to the palace. It seemed that invitations were required to actually go inside, and Lucie felt a brief pang of panic that she was somewhere that she didn't belong. They should turn back, go home—

  The invitation. Lucie dropped Foxglove's hand abruptly and started patting her hands
all around her dress, searching for her pockets. She had brought it, hadn't she? Where could she have—?

  Foxglove cleared his throat. Lucie looked up to find him drawing the envelope neatly out of the front breast pocket of his suit.

  "Oh," Lucie said with a sigh of relief. "What would I do without you…?"

  "Honestly," Foxglove said dryly, "I don't really know."

  They headed up the wide, fanned staircase to the front entrance. Butterflies started to hammer around in her stomach again as Foxglove handed the invitation over to the stern-looking liveried guard, but she simply gave the paper a cursory glance and tucked it away with the others.

  "Princess Suri has advised that you please wait for Lieutenant Fen in the main banquet hall," the guard said. "It's straight through—you really can't miss it."

  Lucie mumbled her thanks, letting Foxglove usher her ahead.

  It was quieter inside, although hundreds of people still lined the halls, drinking from fancy-looking glasses and making idle conversation that filled the air with a constant murmur of background chatter. Servants appeared in doorways, swept through the room with trays of small bites of food, then disappeared again once their tray was empty. It was an intricate, complicated dance that immediately made Lucie feel a little dizzy.

  She felt an arm slide around her waist as Foxglove pulled her securely against his side. He'd tugged his mask down over his nose, a simple black-feathered thing with a curved piece like a beak. His mouth was still visible and he gave her a small smile, offering her a small scallop on a tiny little plate.

  "When did you get tha—mmph," Lucie cut off as Foxglove picked the scallop up with two fingers and popped it into her mouth. She chewed out of instinct, wrinkling her nose at him.