Not so dark, anymore, at least. There were lights all over the courtyard, the artificial ones installed by the Tam-illee, and they glowed in the shrouding darkness like faraway stars. But it was still, she thought, a wild and unsettled world, and like the future it was spread before her, uncertain and new and breathlessly wonderful.
Hirianthial came alongside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders—an arm and the fall of his fur-lined cloak. Under it he wasn’t wearing much more than she was, though what passed for pajamas for Eldritch was still a lot of clothes. It was just much looser against his skin than she was used to. That part felt wonderful, and so did his body heat when she leaned into him.
She didn’t have to ask what they were doing. She was cold, but she was glad she was here.
The change in the sky was so gradual she missed it at first: a hint of green along the eastern horizon. She noticed it because she could find the line between the sky and the sea, dark and misty, trailing the last of the stars. Gradually the sky lightened until the first streaks empurpled the sea. How slowly that halo inched over the horizon’s edge! Until at last a golden ray pricked out the frothing pattern of the waves and the lip of the sun shimmered there. Reese held her breath, watching it.
Hirianthial bent close to her ear and murmured, “Listen.”
Such a nonsensical request. Listen? To what? She glanced at him; he wasn’t staring east, at the sun... but south, his body tense and waiting. So she looked south, too, perplexed.
And then, very distant, she thought she heard... a bell? And another. And another. They were nothing like the sweet, bright calls of the Vigil night, when she’d heard the handbells singing in the courtyard. These were enormous Church bells, sonorous and deep, and the sound was traveling toward them because—she sucked in a breath with delight—the bells were ringing in succession. Which meant—
As the sun heaved itself over the horizon, the tide of bellsong rushed through the countryside, sounding from the distant border, then in the village’s church, and finally Rose Point’s chapel sang out the chorus. Amid their joyous song, Hirianthial said, “It begins in Ontine Cathedral. The priests there ring the bells to share the news, that the new year has come.”
“And then everyone who hears them, their churches do it, and then on and on and on….”
“All the way to the furthest border.” He drew her into his arms and dipped his head to touch his lips to her brow. “Theresa, my betrothed. Happy New Year.”
She accepted the sweetness of the kiss that moved from her forehead to her mouth, and the bells filled her ears and her heart and her mind.
When the sound began to fade, though, she threw her arms around him and gave him a very, very enthusiastic reprise. Kiss Number One had been for sacred vows. Kiss Number Two was a little more personal. He laughed against her mouth and agreed with Kiss Number Three. Number Four was probably a little too personal for a balcony, no matter how far up it was.
“And now, before we break with our intentions to remain chaste,” he said against her jaw where he was doing far too good a job of convincing her that they should give up on that intention completely, “we should go prepare for the day. Our guests will be arriving soon.”
“You invited Liolesa?” Reese guessed.
“And Araelis, and whomever they wished to bring,” Hirianthial agreed. He took her clasped hands. “Bright the new day. Shall we go to it?”
“I can’t wait.”
CHAPTER 10
The first day of the new year! When had she ever cared enough to celebrate it? Dressing in the diffuse light entering through her northern-facing windows, Reese tried to remember the last time. On Mars, maybe—she’d certainly stopped once she’d gotten the Earthrise. The Alliance maintained a universal calendar, originally designed to organize their military, but it had spread when traders had found it useful to have a common point of reference; after that everyone else had started hanging things on it, like ornaments on a Hinichi Christmas tree. Reese could have celebrated the new year by Alliance Mean Time anywhere in space, or gone by Mars reckoning had she felt nostalgic. But it had always felt to her like... like she was running out of time to succeed, and every year that passed was a big fat reminder that the return on her investment hadn’t panned out. She’d had dreams, carefully unexamined except in moments of weakness, of finding someone to love and settling down after a long and lucrative run as an independent merchant, and when it had become clear she was still trapped in the role of rebellious young adult fleeing her family’s expectations, she’d stopped celebrating holidays. On New Year’s, the clock rolled over while she slept, and the only notice she gave it involved scheduling the ship’s annual maintenance.
Maybe that’s why she’d never bothered with birthdays either. Or any of the other celebrations. Between her chronic poverty and the sense that she was a failure, why would she? Reese paused in the act of shrugging on her dress, struck by how much she’d missed because she’d been so closed up in herself.
But then, if she hadn’t been, maybe she wouldn’t have survived those years of loneliness. Maybe had she been more open, those years would have taken her life.
Reese tugged the dress down over her chest and smoothed the split skirts over her leggings, watching the fabric straighten under her dark hands. This was just another way to beat herself up, she thought. One that her crew and her husband-to-be wouldn’t appreciate. She’d made mistakes, sure. Maybe things would have turned out better, but things might have turned out worse too. Past-Reese had done the best she could, just like Present-Reese was. And if Future-Reese made better decisions, well... she had a lot of people helping her make them, so judging herself based on the difference was a little unfair.
She drew in a deep breath and settled her shower-damp braids behind her shoulders, shaking them to hear the beads click. If she could be kinder to others, she could be kinder to herself. It was a new year, after all. Didn’t people make resolutions on those? Smiling, Reese finished her toilette and left her apartments, and found herself hurrying down the stairs because... she was excited. Her new castle was unfinished but already beautiful and full of decorations and between that and the feast and all her new friends and guests she couldn’t wait to see the day.
She might also have hurried because once she hit the great hall the smell of something amazing was in the air and she was hungry.
The kitchens were enormous by her standards, and every time she entered them it struck her again. But one of the features of Eldritch kitchens was a large nook for eating, one that Felith had explained was usually reserved for the staff. It had taken Hirianthial to tell her later that it wasn’t unusual for the noble family to sneak down to the kitchen to snitch food from indulgent cooks, particularly the younger members of the household, or those considered favorites by the servants... probably because, Reese thought, they didn’t think it beneath themselves to spend time with the chef and their assistants. It had become her habit to stop by when she could and sneak a little food, talk with whomever was cooking. The servants Felith had imported from Ontine all seemed indulgent of her habit... and also unsurprised by it, which made Reese wonder if teenage Liolesa had once kicked her heels in front of her kitchen’s fire while nibbling on almond pastries and listening to servants’ gossip.
While she knew better than to think she’d be the first person in the kitchen—no one knew how much time cooking took like someone who’d been forced to subsist on protein bars—she did expect to be the first of her friends to make it there. In fact, she was looking forward to being the first because she could have the pick of what Chef set out. But it turned out all the priests had not only beaten her there, but they’d made sizable inroads on the platter too. Urise was furled into a swaddle of robes and blankets in a chair in the nook’s corner, beaming. Belinor was putting away what looked an enormous apple fritter, and somehow that surprised her... his behavior was so proper she’d expected him to be a healthy, balanced breakfast type, and here he was eating one
of the most fried-looking sweets available and washing it down with—from the smudge on the lip of the cup—hot chocolate.
But they were not the only ones in the room, and at the sight of him, Reese stepped forward before she remembered he was an Eldritch and not huggable. “Val! I didn’t expect you here. Aren’t you supposed to be ringing a church bell somewhere in Ontine?”
Val grinned and... stepped into her, surprising her. He’d never hugged her before. He was narrower than Hirianthial and closer to her height, and hard as a rock under his robes—how little had he eaten living here, she wondered, to get so lean? Because she knew the difference between hard-from-muscle and hard-from-privation, and he was definitely the latter.
Well, whatever he’d been before, he was theirs now. His starvation days were definitely over. She hugged him tightly, pressing her nose into his shoulder where his clothing was still cool from outside. He smelled like... she inhaled, smiled. Like winter roses, and the fragrant vetiver oil used to polish the wooden bits in Eldritch chapels.
“Finished staking your claim?” Val asked, affectionate.
“I have strong feelings about my people,” Reese said, unapologetic. “And you’ve been one of them since we untied you in this courtyard.”
He chuckled softly. “I’m glad you think so.”
“He’s very glad you think so,” Belinor said briskly. “Given what’s on his mind.”
“Now, Belinor,” Urise said. “Let Valthial choose his time.”
“It’s certainly too late now for that,” Val said, wry. “So I might as well ask if you’ll step outside with me, lady?”
Reese glanced at the plate; her mournful look was apparently too obvious, because Val leaned over and plucked a muffin from it and put it in her hand. “There. I won’t keep you long, so that should tide you over.”
“All right,” she said. Breaking off a piece of the top, she added, “I hope it’s not apple. Apples belong in pies.”
“It’s lemon,” Val said just as the burst of zest and flavor woke her palate. “Good, yes?”
“Perfect. Needs coffee though.” She stepped outside and waited for him to join her. “So. What’s on your mind?”
“I did ring the bell in Ontine, you know.”
Reese narrowed her eyes. Val was the most straightforward Eldritch she knew. He dropped enigmatic hints about things—she thought the Eldritch need to do that was genetic—but the only times she’d noticed him being cagey were when he was protecting someone else... and he wouldn’t be asking her into the corridor to discuss something he wasn’t willing to talk about. So the comment couldn’t be a non sequitur. “There are a lot of churches between here and Ontine, but you still must have had to rush to get here on time. Even with the Pad.”
“I would have had I used the palace’s,” Val said. “But the Queen has granted me a budget commensurate with her apparent trust in me, and I used some of it to buy a one-person Pad for the Cathedral.”
“So.... you rang the bell there, dropped everything, stepped over the Pad, and jogged over here to help Urise?” She lifted her brows. “Val. Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want.”
He paused, laughed. “Beating around the bush? Is that idiom really still common in the Alliance?”
“It is? Why are you sur—” Some of her older historical novels swam to memory. “Oh. It’s a hunting metaphor, isn’t it? A medieval one.”
He grinned. “Yes. And we still do beat literal bushes here. Since you’ve asked so properly, then... the High Priest traditionally keeps his office in Ontine Cathedral.” His grin dropped from him abruptly. “In the catacombs.”
Her skin stippled with goosebumps. “The catacombs where they dragged people to torture the talent out of them?”
“Or execute them on suspicion of having it. I find—” He looked away, the muscle in his jaw visibly tightening. “I find I can’t do it, alet. I’ve had it cleaned. I’ve had all the old furniture replaced. Then I had all the new furniture hauled out so I could clean it myself by hand. And I still... can’t... stand to work there.”
Reese broke off another piece of the muffin. “So. Work here.” When he looked at her abruptly, she said, “That’s what you’re about to ask, right? We’re building you the chapterhouse for your talent school. It has plenty of space for an office. And you’ve put a Pad in Ontine, so either you were subconsciously trying to escape or you were already planning for something like this. Since you’ve got the means to go back and forth quickly, I think it’ll work out fine. If the Queen is all right with it?”
“The Queen says I’m the first High Priest she trusts out of her sight, so I’m free to set up wherever I like,” Val said dryly.
Reese winced. “Blood, that’s....”
“A high compliment?”
“I was about to say a low bar to set,” Reese said, rueful.
Val chuckled. “That too, I’m afraid.” He glanced at her. “You’re all right with it? Truly?”
She ate the next bit of the muffin while she thought through her impressions. Finally, she asked, “Why did you hug me?”
“I... because...” His eyes lost their focus, then he smiled whimsically at her. “Hirianthial lost a brother, Lady. I never had one. Sometimes the God and Goddess provide what you need long after you’ve stopped looking.”
She could relate to that, and let him have the heartbeat of silence the admission deserved. But only a heartbeat, because he wasn’t the kind of man who liked to linger on the vulnerable moments. “So you think of Hirianthial as family. But you call me ‘alet’?” she asked, teasing a little.
He spread his hands. “I didn’t want to presume. You’re no longer an intruder to my castle.”
“I’m the owner of it, yes,” Reese said. “But if you’re going to adopt my husband as your brother, you’d better call me arii. Or Reese. No more lady-this or lady-that and I don’t care that the Eldritch use it as some kind of intimacy signaling. I need one Eldritch to treat me normally around here.”
He laughed, easy and free. “So that’s the cost of my setting up here, is that it?”
“Yep.” She popped another piece of the muffin in her mouth and chewed, watching him finish laughing. “Is it a deal?”
“It is. Reese. But in public, during occasions when your authority needs buttressing, I’m afraid I’ll have to default to the formalities. If it’s any consolation, you won’t be alone. I’ll have to suffer people calling me ‘Most High’ and ‘Eldest Favored of the God.’”
“Ugh!” Reese laughed. “You definitely have it worse.” She reached for his hand and was gratified to receive it. “And thanks. For being his friend.”
“I think it fitting that the God’s high priest should be fast companions with the first mind-mage acknowledged outside the priesthood since Corel,” Val said lightly, and she knew the casualness with which he said it was hiding how deeply he felt about it.
“Me too. Now that we’ve settled that, I want to see what Belinor’s left of my breakfast.”
“Belinor is not the culprit you should be seeking! It is Urise you want.”
“Urise! But he’s so....”
“Old? Serene? Immobile?” Val laughed. “Woe betide you, woman. You’ve let his kindly demeanor take you in. Elder Urise put away all those missing savories, and so furtively that the cook’s assistants never saw him do it. They didn’t even offer him a plate. That’s how stealthy the man is.”
The image was so unlikely she started giggling. And then she added, “Belinor. And donuts. Really?”
“Belinor will eat anything if you sprinkle sugar on it. And don’t you dare train him out of it. It’s the only thing I can hold against him when he starts telling me I need to reform my ways.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She grinned up at him and added, “It was yours first. It’s yours again, Val. Welcome home.”
His cheeks pinked, just a little. That was all the acknowledgment she was going to get, but it was also all she needed: that a
nd the relief in his eyes.
“I’ll find you some coffee.”
With Val vanished into the kitchen proper, Reese dropped onto a stool to scavenge some breakfast of her own.
Belinor said, “All done, my lady?”
“All settled,” she agreed. And grinned. “Have another fritter.”
Having put away a cup of coffee and several savory crepes—freshly made to replace the ones Urise had devoured so stealthily—Reese went searching for her resident village Eldritch. That trip took her to the great hall… where she abruptly halted. The evergreens hung under Irine’s supervision at the start of the holiday season had been refreshed at intervals as they grew dry; she’d become accustomed to seeing the dark, resinous green of them in her peripheral vision while jogging past, smelling the pine sap pungency of them. Those garlands still bedecked the hall, but they’d been woven through with strands of winter roses tied with silver ribbon. The perfume added a floral topnote to the bouquet of evergreen and the scent of burning wood in the fireplace, and it was perfect.
Bryer was standing on a ladder, hanging a wreath over the mantel: evergreen with silver accents and a single red velvet ribbon, a shock of color that brought out the more furtive crimson glimmer of the glass berries hidden amidst the greenery. Seeing her, he grunted and hopped down.
“Oh, Bryer!” Reese said. “It’s beautiful!”
“Looks good,” he agreed, feathered arms flexing. “You stay a moment.”
“All right?”
He was already jogging toward an Eldritch wheelbarrow, the carved panels on it absurdly ornate to be adorning something so pedestrian and antiquated. Sheaves of roses were still mounded in it despite the hall itself looking complete. Had he cut enough for the entire castle? Rose Point would live up to its name then, with the fragrance wafting down every corridor, and wasn’t that a wonderful thought? But the Phoenix was returning, and had in his hand a single petite bloom. It was one of the most perfect roses Reese had ever seen, except for a single creased petal, and the stem was trimmed almost entirely off.
A Rose Point Holiday Page 17
