CHAPTER 9
How they managed to plow through the week leading up to the new year, Reese couldn’t remember; between the dogs and the horses and the construction and her concerns over storms and recalcitrant Eldritch and the very important duty of counting and recounting the kisses she’d received to make sure she hadn’t missed any… well, it was a wonder anything got done. But she came downstairs the morning before New Year’s to find Sascha and Bryer at work—with the Hinichi—moving tables into the great hall. The Tam-illee were streaming past with food, a lot of food, which meant: “I guess everything’s come over the Pad?”
“Yep,” Sascha said. “Including us!” He swiped his forelock off a sweaty brow and folded his arms. “We barely got in before Felith put us to work.”
Staring at the tables, Reese said, “I don’t know why I thought this would happen outside.”
“Outside!” Felith said from behind her. “Where the dishes could grow cold? It is winter, milady!”
Irine dashed past the Eldritch to leap into her brother’s arms. Ignoring them, Reese said, “I thought… I don’t know. A bonfire?”
“Of course,” Felith said. “But that’s what the bowl is intended to symbolize.” She nodded toward the firebowl, now sitting by one of the far walls. “Tomorrow we let it go out. Or… we would if it was fed in a normal fashion. I shall have to ask Kis’eh’t if she would arrange for it to appear to die.”
“I guess that makes sense. But if the firebowl’s important, why did you move it?”
“Because we need the space in the center of the hall,” Felith said. At Reese’s blank look, she said, “For the dancing?”
“Dancing!” Reese exclaimed, dismayed.
“Of course. It is a celebration, milady!”
“Why so glum?” Irine said, pulling Sascha over. “I’ve been with Felith looking at the menu, everything’s going to be great!”
“There’s dancing,” Reese told her.
“Dancing!” Irine clasped her hands together. “Hooray, I love dancing! Wait.” Her ears dropped and she eyed Felith. “Is this ‘we can’t touch’ dancing?”
Felith stared at her. “Of course.” And then, daring to chide in a way Reese hadn’t heard yet, “You have been among us for at least a year now, have you not? Including your acquaintanceship with Lord Hirianthial? You should not be so surprised. It is not done!”
“I thought maybe it could be a class thing?” Irine said. “At least, I was hoping it was. You know, fancy aristocrats with too much time to kill have all the crazy rules while normal, sensible people can at least hold hands?”
“Goddess and Lord!” Felith said. More gently, she continued, “No, Irine. Touching is uncomfortable because we sense one another’s feelings, do you not recall? It doesn’t matter, peasant or lady. But… if it mitigates your disappointment even a little, I will say that the dancing done at New Year’s is not the mannered and stately sort practiced typically at the court. There is some energy in it.”
“Some,” Irine said, skeptical.
“I’d like to see it!” Sascha said.
“Obviously you have to teach us,” Irine agreed.
Reese was expecting Felith to cavil—was hoping, actually—so she was alarmed when her chatelaine said, “Oh yes, you must be taught. Such dances will also be expected at the lady’s wedding, and as there will be as many of you Pelted as there will be Eldritch, you will have to know the conventions. As soon as the tables are arranged…?”
Sascha pressed a fist into an open palm. “I’m back to work, then!”
“I’ll help!” Irine said.
Watching them join the Hinichi, Reese said to Felith, weakly, “Dancing?”
The Eldritch’s expression was touched with compassion, obvious enough that Reese wasn’t sure to be embarrassed or relieved. “I take it you have never learned.”
“It’s… not something I would have needed to know in the past, no. Come to think of it, no one tried to teach me what I should have been doing at the court?”
Felith waved a hand, a brief, brisk gesture. “One does not dance much at the winter court. The great balls are reserved for summer, when the young go to Ontine to find their spouses. And as I said, those are more staid dances. It wouldn’t do to show too much interest at such affairs.”
“I’m glad I skipped the whole dating part here, then,” Reese said, rueful.
Felith laughed. “Yes, milady. I’m sure you are. If you’re free, I could show you the menu?”
“I guess you’d better.” As they walked past the tables, Reese said, “Where does the glass go?”
“Lady?”
“The glass for the people who died. From the Vigil. Is it supposed to stay by the bowl?”
“There’s no tradition,” Felith said. “As every lady treats with the custom differently, each household does as well. Do you have a notion of what you’d like?”
Did she? Reese’s gaze glided over the room, seeing it as it would look when it was done: tables forming a square around an open space, the fire in the fireplace brightly burning, people laughing and dancing, people eating. “Yes,” she said. “Set a place at the table. We’ll have an empty plate to go with the emptied glass.” She smiled a little. “Just in case a few ghosts want to stop by.”
She’d expected the last comment to inspire a laugh, or maybe a shocked look. But Felith said, “Very good, milady,” and from her tone, she meant it.
What Felith set to teaching the Pelted visitors later was nothing like the ballroom dancing Reese had been expecting. She supposed seeing how everyone had dressed at Ontine had led her to expect that couples would sail together across the enormous ballrooms typical of Eldritch architecture, and it would be beautiful and terrifying because that was exactly the sort of dancing she’d never allowed herself to imagine she’d do and couldn’t imagine she’d do well.
But no, Eldritch didn’t dance like that, save on very rare occasions. What they did instead was a group dance based on patterns of moves executed in lines, squares, or circles. No touching, of course, save with wands and daggers… there was a lot of pointing and waving, though, which Reese thought looked more ridiculous than touching, but she could think so, couldn’t she? Her skin didn’t transmit thoughts. She wouldn’t want to accidentally hear what Surela’s sympathizers thought of her while trying to concentrate on what her feet were supposed to do next, certainly.
Eldritch dancing came in two styles. In the court style, the order of the patterns was dictated by the music, and the result was far more formal and rigid; everyone knew which form came next, so there were no surprises and a lot of opportunity to calcify one’s mannerisms. The country style appropriate to their New Year’s festivities, though, was far more spontaneous, and involved someone standing at the head of the hall on a pedestal calling out the pattern. It could and did get chaotic, and when Irine suggested that it sounded far more fun than the fancier style Felith only smiled one of those unreadable Eldritch smiles and said it depended on the dancers. And with that set them to standing in rows and started the lesson.
There were, apparently, a lot of patterns. Fortunately, the Tam-illee knew most of them. Between their aid and Felith’s, the rest of them soon had the basics down. Reese was forced to admit that even she could figure out how to skip after someone else, or twirl and clap her hands, though she tried very hard not to think about what she looked like while doing it. It was probably ridiculous. It was also just a little bit fun. Especially since she was practicing with non-Eldritch, and could laugh off all the inevitable mistakes that involved bumping into people. Once she’d been on the floor for a while, Felith waved her aside and put her to work calling the patterns, “As this is one of your duties as lady during the feast.” Naturally that wasn’t as easy as it seemed either, because some forms led naturally into each other and others… didn’t.
That inspired a lot of laughter too, and one or two shaken fists as the dancers recovered from her more ridiculous suggestions. Reese couldn’
t remember the last time she’d grinned so much or for so long. Maybe dancing wasn’t that bad after all.
“You have the sense of it now, I think,” Felith said. “Which is well because I believe you are about to retire for the evening.”
“You are? I am? Oh—” She flushed at the sight of the tall, familiar figure at the door. “Right.”
“My lord,” Felith said as Hirianthial joined them. “We are pleased to see you. I shall leave you to the lady, and send supper up in an hour if it pleases.”
“It does. Thank you, Felith.”
Her chatelaine absented herself with commendable alacrity, leaving her standing alongside her fiancé in a pool of quiet at the head of the hall. Reese never tired of looking at him, especially now that she’d noticed that with each passing day he seemed a little more whole. It would take time for him to bounce back from the shocks and griefs he’d suffered, and she knew one of the reasons Liolesa was keeping him so busy was so he could use the work to center himself again. She also knew, without having to be told for a change, that she held some responsibility for that return to health. It felt good to be one of the reasons he felt better about himself after spending far too long being one of the reasons he didn’t.
Also, he really was handsome.
“You are staring, my Courage,” he murmured as he took her hand.
“You’re worth staring at?” she offered, and it was true. She liked the wind-chapped vitality of him, fresh from the cold. His skin showed the flush better than hers.
“And you are a sight to gladden the heart,” he said, and tucked her hand into his arm. “I see Felith has things well in hand here.”
“She does! Which means you and I can slip out if you’d like. Unless you’d like to dance?”
He watched the revelry, mouth quirking upward at the corner. “I see the festivities have started early. But no, I have had a long enough day, I think, and tomorrow, while joyful, will be longer yet. I would not mind retiring.” He canted his head. “Shall I ask what number we are on now?”
“What? Oh. Forty… three? Maybe?”
“You’ve lost count!”
His eyes were sparkling. She tried to scowl at him and failed. Even her mock-scowl lacked authority. Which was fine. “Let’s just round down and you can make up the shortfall.”
He laughed. “Done. Shall we?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. As they left, she added, “You’re here for the remainder of the holiday, then?”
“I am, yes.” The sounds of merriment receded as they passed into the halls. Taylor and her team had started work on the center of the castle, so this section was dimly lit by discreet Alliance technology: a warm glow that brightened as they passed and faded behind them. “I have told my cousin that I am done for a few days, and that if she forced me to use my need to finalize details for the hospital as an excuse to stay away, I would.”
Reese winced. “You’re not going to work on it. Are you?”
He glanced down at her and chuckled. “No, Theresa. Don’t fear that I need an excuse for myself as well as Liolesa to be here. This is where I belong on the first day of the new year. You are the lady of Rose Point. And I am—will be—your consort. When you fete your tenants, I should be beside you. And I do so desire it. I promise.”
“You didn’t have to read my mind to hear that one, I bet,” Reese said, rueful.
“A relationship of sufficient length can lead to exchanges that might as well be telepathy,” he said. “And while we haven’t known one another long by how the days are counted, we have lived several lifetimes in the days we have.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it again, and this time he feathered his warm breath over her knuckles until she shivered. “Time is relative.”
“Yes,” she said, sobered.
“So then. What shall we tonight, on the last day of the old year?”
Reese thought about that. About Eldritch sayings and the rightness of things, about new relationships, and old relationships, and talking and kissing. And found herself saying, “Could we just… sit around the fire and talk?”
“Or read to one another?” he suggested. At her glance, he said, “Do I divine correctly that what you want is… to act as if we have that time?”
“All the time in the worlds,” Reese said. It felt right to her. “And we will have all the time in the worlds, for the time we have.” She remembered the image he’d painted for her of his first wife when they’d taken that walk beside the sea, the day she’d proposed. “I guess you all really do read to one another for entertainment, don’t you?”
“We do,” he said. “And I would like it if we did.”
“Even though….”
“Even though it is something that reminds me of Laiselin, yes,” Hirianthial stopped outside the room where they’d spent the Vigil; she hadn’t even realized he’d been guiding her to it. “But I think I would like to be the one read to, this time.”
“Really?” she said, startled.
“And I believe I know what I want to hear,” he finished, and there was mischief in his eyes… and a compassionate curve to his mouth that she wanted to trust, and also wanted to laugh at because he was about to suggest something outrageous…
“All right. Hit me.”
“You read a great deal, my lady. I’d like to hear one of your romances.”
Her cheeks flamed so hot she thought she could strike a match off one of them. And then she burst out laughing. “Well, why not, right? It’s not like you haven’t done it all before.” She grinned up at him. “You are terrible, you know that?”
He pushed open the door. “Only a very little bit. After you, my lady.”
“Would serve you right if I jumped into the good parts first.”
His brows lifted. “Now there is an interesting revelation. Are the good parts the blushworthy ones? I am delighted that you might think so!”
She was sure her skin was going to burn off now, but she couldn’t help grinning. “Fine. I won’t deny it. But remember you asked for it when I read some of this stuff and we still have to stick with the whole ‘celibate until marriage’ part.”
“Fortunately,” Hirianthial said, “the wedding is not too distant. All the same, my lady… pick a long book.”
It had been a wonderful evening. She’d curled up in the rocking chair with Allacazam on her lap, and they’d had the supper Felith had thoughtfully sent up, and then hot cider, mulled with sweet spices and a touch of apple brandy. They’d talked on light topics, as if they didn’t have tasks of earth-shattering importance awaiting them, and then Reese had obliged her husband-to-be with the beginning of a book long enough that they wouldn’t get to the salacious parts too fast; and to get back at him for the request, she’d picked one of the ones about an Eldritch, and made sure it was one of the most ridiculous ones in her catalog. His smothered laugh when the love interest was revealed in the first scene to be an eight-foot-tall centauroid Ciracaana woman had become what she was fairly sure was a smothered oath when the Ciracaana had started having ribald thoughts about the fainting Eldritch lordling she’d fixated on because of his sexy body and languid, helpless mannerisms. Reese felt Hirianthial’s pain; when she’d first read this one, she’d spent several traumatic moments imagining how the body mechanics could possibly work and failing. And she wasn’t even a doctor!
So she’d read, and kept an eye on him to make sure he was enjoying it, and the sight of him leaning his head against the back of the chair, relaxed and smiling… that had been worth the late night and hoarse voice.
There had also been some kissing. It was, he commented, far less fraught for them than for the poor pair in the novel, the Ciracaana having true muzzles and the sharp teeth to go with them. Reese had allowed that she felt sorry for them, and added that she might feel more sorry for them if he wasn’t distracting her from contemplating their plight. Since he’d taken that as a challenge she’d been warm and happy and a little effervescent by the time she reached her bed.
It had been a late night, and even knowing that she’d have to wake up for the dawn she hadn’t regretted it.
But she didn’t wake at dawn. Her door creaked open while it was still dark, leaving her disoriented and muzzy. Blinking a few times, she peered at the silhouette, and since there was only one person that height likely to be in her bedroom she asked blearily, “I’m not late?”
Hirianthial came to the bedside. He was holding a robe, she noticed, so she sat up and let him drape it around her.
“No,” he murmured. “Not at all. But you will not want to miss this, Theresa. Come.”
Belting the robe around herself, she slipped off the bed and followed.
Most of Rose Point’s windows and balconies were on the upper floors; knowing the castle’s history, Reese wondered if it had been intended that way for defensibility. The lady’s bedroom suite had a balcony that faced the northern vista, in fact, something Reese had often wondered about since the view now was desolate. Had the province been better settled when Firilith’s first lady had settled here? Or had the former lady of the castle liked a quieter view? Come to think of it, if Val’s stories were true—and she had no reason to believe otherwise—Rose Point had once been the royal palace. What queen had slept here, preferring the emptiness of the horizon for her view?
Reese didn’t mind. Either it would stay quiet, and that was fine... or the Pelted and Eldritch immigrants to her new province would fill it, and that was good too. But for now, it was a potential, and she wasn’t surprised when Hirianthial led her to a south-facing balcony, because most of the Eldritch of the world were settled to the south of Firilith. He’d chosen the most striking of them, the fourth floor balcony that overhung the great hall’s doors.
The Tam-illee had checked the integrity of the entirety of Rose Point, but aside from throwing a few temporary flexglass doors on those balconies that were missing them they hadn’t done any renovation. They had plans: furniture, shielding, lighting, heated and cooled tiles and clever bits of technology that controlled the immediate climate. But fancy balconies were very far down on Firilith’s priority list, and Reese briefly regretted it when she stepped through the doors and the cold struck her like a wall. She wished she’d worn shoes over her socks because the flagstones were frigid enough to make her toe bones ache and the balls of her feet burn. Tugging the robe closer around herself, Reese approached the rail and stared into the dark.
A Rose Point Holiday Page 16
