by A. F. Dery
“Who can blame me for wondering something like that, after the kinds of ‘chats’ Graunt likes to have,” Kesara muttered to herself as she looked into the mirror in the valet’s washroom. Her blue eyes looked huge in her face, her cheeks still visibly pink. “And she thinks I can fix Eladria’s diplomatic problems?”
But maybe I can do something, she thought, the wheels turning in her head. I will wait and watch. He does what he can for me, I will do what I can for him. It would be inexcusable for me not to assist in whatever way I can, just because he has not specifically asked me. Why would he mind anything done for his country’s benefit, so long as it suits his idea of honor as well? If the opportunity comes, I will take it, for Thane. Then she added sternly to herself, because it’s only the right thing to do. It has nothing to do with anything else. I would do it even if he hadn’t said anything tonight.
But her pink cheeks were a silent accusation to the contrary that she refused to acknowledge as she took herself off to bed.
Thane was still wondering where his confession of the night before had come from when he woke in the morning. He groaned at the memory and tried to suppress it, but it would not leave him alone. Perhaps it had been the growing discomfort in the pit of his stomach over Malachi’s words to the High Lord. I could not leave her. What else could I do? I could not leave her. He had felt cornered before her simple question about her sleeping arrangements, trapped between letting Kesara possibly suspect him of motives he did not entertain, and that sinking feeling of recognition inside himself: I could not leave her. He had impulsively chosen honesty, and he tried to curb his own growing feeling of humiliation and worry at his choice by reminding himself that she felt the same way. He knew this. He sensed it through the bond, to greater or lesser degree, whenever they were apart. Why would she think less of him for it? Why did it embarrass him so to admit to it? Even if she was unsure of its…normalcy, she was right that they were not normal. She did not seem to mind it, so why should he?
Because I feel weak, pathetic, like she will suspect it is more than the bond that draws me to her proximity, more than duty and honor that makes me want to watch over her. That she will be affronted, or offended at such a thought. That even she, creature of compassion though she seems to be, will be unable to stop herself from laughing. That she will pity me when the laughter passes. That last thought made his stomach want to heave. He forced himself to steady his suddenly short, irregular breathing, feeling the anxiety tightening his chest. He did not want this, but gods, he did not want it, did not want to face it, did not want to think about it.
He forced himself out of bed and splashed cold water from the basin on his face. Man up, Thane. You’re overreacting, he told himself severely. All I admitted to was preferring to keep her close, since the bond occurred. That’s it, that’s all. It doesn’t mean there are any other motives. It doesn’t mean she will think anything of it. After all, she feels the same, yet I am not standing here speculating about her motives. She will accept it at face value, just as I accept her, and why shouldn’t she? I’m being absurd, worrying about this. Just because it kind of looked like she was running from the room last night…it was probably just because it was a little awkward. That’s understandable. I’m not good about talking about feelings, and really, it’s a relief she’s not the kind of woman to want to push me on to greater elaboration anyway. Who knows what kind of stupid thing I might have ended up saying, and regretting? I was only flustered after seeing Malachi. Who wouldn’t be, in my place? I’m sure she knows that. Damn Malachi, if it hadn’t been for him, if he hadn’t said such a thing in front of me, and had me all disturbed…
He sighed. In all justice, he couldn’t really blame Malachi, he supposed, but it didn’t hurt to pawn off his troubled state of mind just for the moment, did it?
He finished his morning ablutions, dressed carefully, took extra time getting his hair smoothed perfectly back. Appearances, as he had told Kesara, were important at Court. That was all. It was emphatically NOT any kind of procrastination or dawdling on his part. He was simply being mindful of his appearance, however futile such a task may be, out of respect for the High Lord and to present the best possible face for his country, which might well be deformed, but was immaculately clean-shaven, thank you.
Drawing a deep breath, he at last emerged from his room. He smelled breakfast and tried to follow the aroma without further thought, but his heart was pounding. It was set up in his study on his desk, and Kesara was curled up in a chair across from it, with a steaming cup in one hand and an open book carefully gripped in the other. So rapt was she in its contents that she did not seem to even notice his appearance, so he stepped back into the hallway and tried to walk more loudly to alert her rather than startle her with scalding liquid in her cup.
It seemed to work, for this time she looked up, her eyes slightly unfocused. She started to move to get up but Thane shook his head and held up a hand to stop her. “No, please, don’t bother. You’ll just have to get yourself rearranged again in a moment anyway.” He went and sat behind the desk.
“Thank you,” Kesara said, looking a bit sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind me waiting in here. The woman who brought the tray said you prefer to eat in here, and well, I got distracted.”
“So I see,” Thane said, suppressing a smile. “I don’t mind, but I didn’t know I kept the kind of literature you prefer.”
“Oh, ha,” Kesara somehow managed to flip the book around while still holding it in one hand, ostensibly to show him the title. He found this trick so fascinating he couldn’t even focus on reading the spine.
“How the hell did you do that?” he asked, amazed.
“Do what?”
“Flip the- oh, never mind. Geography of Waslea, eh?”
“Yes, I’m trying to acquaint myself with who is where,” Kesara admitted, turning the book back to face her the same way she had flipped it the first time. Thane watched this with astonishment, still unsure of how she had managed it. “I’m only familiar with the countries closest to the Ytaren border, for some strange reason.”
“Oh, very strange,” Thane agreed, pointedly looking down at the breakfast tray. “I must have been more tired than I thought last night. Ordinarily I’m up before the tray arrives, but I’ve missed its arrival and training with my men this morning.” It was only the truth, but he hoped pointing it out like this, the hint was subtle yet clear enough, just in case there were any suspicions percolating in Kesara’s brain after his words last night: I was so tired I didn’t know what the hell I was saying, and it couldn’t possibly mean anything deeper. He eyed her hopefully.
“Did you want me to wake you in the future, Thane?” she asked him, seeming oblivious to any hints or deeper meanings. “I can, if you’d like. I thought you must be pretty tired, though. You seemed a little aggravated when you came in last night.”
“Huh,” Thane said, starting to feel relieved. So far so good. “I was at that.”
Kesara quietly closed her book and set it down on the side table next to her chair. “And this morning you’re concerned that I took what you said the last night the wrong way, and that I think you’re trying to lull me into complacency so you can spirit me away as your concubine.” Thane started to choke noisily on an inopportune mouthful of bacon, but quickly recovered. “But don’t worry,” Kesara went on calmly, as if noticing nothing at all, “I know I’m not concubine material in anyone’s book, and that you’re not the concubinage type of lord anyway. I understand your protectiveness is related to the bond and my maidenly virtue is perfectly safe and I trust you completely, Thane. So please don’t be uneasy about it. I’m not.”
“Oh, I am…so relieved to hear you say so, Kes, “ Thane said honestly. “I’m really sorry if I scratched your throat just now- or made it feel so- it’s just that I nearly choked to death on a side of bacon. Can you warn me the next time you’re going to start talking like that?”
“Like what?” Kesara frowned, tilting he
r head. “Wasn’t I correct?”
“Perfectly correct, it’s just something about such bluntness coming out of nowhere when I least expect it that tends to interfere with my ability to coordinate chewing and swallowing,” Thane explained helpfully. “Perhaps it’s related to my grotesque deformity. Who knows.”
Kesara’s frown somehow managed to deepen. “I doubt that, but I’ll try to be more careful with my choice of words. When you’re eating, anyway.”
“That’s all I ask,” Thane said soothingly. Kesara gave him an odd look and returned her attention to sipping her tea.
Feeling much calmer with the potential crises averted, Thane tucked into his breakfast with greater enthusiasm, knowing it was going to be one long, hungry day.
When he’d finished, he looked back to Kesara, who was still quietly contemplating whatever was left in her cup.
“Are you ready to go, then? Just waiting on me?”
Kesara startled a little, looking up with wide eyes. “Go? Go where?”
“I’m taking you to meet the High Lord this morning. He asked me before I left last night to come see him after breakfast and to bring you with me so you could be introduced properly, whatever that means.”
Kesara looked down at herself and though Thane saw nothing whatsoever wrong with her appearance, she paled a little. “I need to change, Thane. I didn’t know that was happening today! Why didn’t you say so last night?”
“You look fine, though,” Thane said, perplexed. “And I just didn’t think of it then.” No, because I was too busy making a fool out of myself because of the dumb, stupid things that dumb, stupid Malachi says.
“But I’m not wearing my dress!” Kesara cried.
“You have a special dress for meeting the High Lord?” Thane would have whistled if he were physically capable of producing such a sound. “You’re certainly better prepared than I expected, Kes.”
“No, it’s not specifically for meeting the High Lord, but we all dress alike- Mirrors, I mean. And if you are meaning to introduce me in my actual function, I ought to be wearing it. It’s…it’s like you wearing those black robes on Judgment day. It’s just what you do,” Kesara said emphatically.
“Ah, a sign of your station, is it?” Thane nodded in understanding. “All right, then. Better hurry. It’s technically after breakfast when I finish what’s in this cup.” He held up a dainty little teacup using only his pinkie and she quickly fled the room.
When Kesara reappeared- after what had to be the single longest cup of tea Thane had ever drunk, and that, with tremendous effort on his part- he was astonished by the change. In place of the neutral brown servant’s garb she normally wore was a finely tailored, ankle length gray dress that by some miracle or magic contrived, while actually revealing nothing whatsoever, to irrefutably announce the fact that she was an attractive young woman of child-bearing age. Her dark curly hair was gathered back more softly than severely now into a loose knot at the base of her neck, shorter, glossy tendrils falling loose to frame her face. She looked perfectly composed, even serene, but through the bond, Thane sensed the anxiety simmering underneath it all.
It took him an awkward moment to remember how to speak, and yet another to figure out what to say that wouldn’t either be embarrassing, vulgar, or regrettable. The best he came up with was, “Ready now?” and his voice still sounded strange to him, not quite his own. He forced his eyes to remain firmly trained on her face, and felt very nearly betrayed to find that the same face that had once seemed quite ordinary, if foreign, in his eyes was now really very pretty, even though he could himself discern no greater change than the way she was wearing her hair.
All women are really witches, he thought, but even in his head, the sentiment lacked the vehemence he felt it ought to have had.
“Yes, my lord,” she said quietly, demurely casting down her eyes, and suddenly Thane wanted very badly to curse.
“What is this? What does it signify? You change clothes and turn into a stranger to me, Kes?” he said instead, closing his eyes as if to will it all away, and he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, or why his chest felt so tight or why his voice still sounded so strained. It pierced him through, the sudden cool distance in her voice, the conscious veiling of her gaze. The world was changing, again, just as it had the day Kesara had come to deliver that tea tray, he knew it, he could sense it, and as had happened the first time, he wasn’t sure it was a good thing.
He felt her hand on his arm, and when he refused to relent, fingertips grazed his jaw and he jerked in surprise, eyes flying open to meet worried blue ones.
“Please don’t be upset, Thane,” Kesara said. “I will serve you best this way, you will see. I am no different now than I was before, it is only the appearance that changes. This is the role I have been trained my whole life for. It is easiest on me just to play it by the book for now. I don’t know how to do otherwise. I will figure it out if it is what you wish of me. But please let’s try it this way first. See how it is with the High Lord, then tell me if you object.” Her voice was faintly pleading, her hand on his arm again.
“Don’t ever…act like you don’t know me anymore,” he said stiffly. “Unless you truly don’t. Behind these doors, none of that…you know what I mean.” He felt his frustration mounting. He couldn’t even describe just what it was she had done that had rocked him so much. It was nothing more than how servants usually acted, and it made him feel like he was being strange or irrational, and he didn’t like it.
“No, I’m sorry,” Kesara agreed readily. “I’m sorry, Thane. I am.”
“But for gods’ sakes, don’t cry about it,” he said, finding the sudden brightness in her eyes both suspicious and alarming. “Your face will get all blotchy, is that part of the appearance you’re looking for?”
Kesara mutely shook her head, but the brightness trembled then dripped down one cheek.
“Oh, no, no,” Thane groaned. He gently retrieved his arm from her grasp so he could take a swipe at her face with his sleeve. “And the other will follow. Disaster upon disaster. We might as well just give up on the whole thing and go home now, Kes. This is a sure portent of doom, one that even I can’t see fit to ignore. Malachi will just have to let his own conscience eat him alive, the whole blasted Court will think I’ve gone fully round the bend, the High Lord will probably evict Eladria from the Union for leaving the annual conclave so prematurely, but there’s no help for it now. It’s far too late. There’s been two now- no, I think the third is coming. Oh, gods, what have I done? Why does this happen to me?”
“Please stop,” Kesara gasped with a strangled sound that could have been a sob or a laugh.
“I couldn’t introduce you now anyway, not with your face all ugly. That is my job, Kes, and I won’t be usurped by a mere crying woman,” he took another swipe at the wet trails on her face.
“Give me a moment, and I’ll be presentable,” she promised with a sniff, barely dodging a third swipe of his sleeve.
“One moment, and if you can pull it together, I suppose I can- albeit with great reluctance, you understand- introduce you today. Otherwise I’ll have to tell the High Lord that you’re on your bleed and can’t be dragged from your bed even with threat of execution,” Thane said cannily. Kesara tilted her head, regarding him for a moment as if weighing the sincerity of his threat, but she evidently found enough in his grave expression to convince her, for once more she vanished from the room.
He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. Women.
When she returned a short time later, she was again composed and dry-eyed, but paler than she had been before.
“Well, that’s better, then,” he said, moving to the door.
She said nothing. He felt something in the bond, something subtle but deeply unhappy. He paused and turned back to her. She was looking at the ground, hands clasped in front of her, the very portrait of contrition.
“Kes, I’m not mad at you,” he said quietly.
“But you’re no
t pleased, either,” she returned, just as quietly. “You’d rather I was something else, or that I had forgotten everything before you, but I don’t know how to do either of those things.”
Thane was astonished at that, and made no effort to hide his reaction. “No, Kes, that isn’t it at all. I do understand what you’re saying about appearances. If this is standard Mirror appearance and behavior, then I will accept that. In front of the Court, at least, because it’s apparently what makes you most comfortable. “ He sighed. “We will have to discuss it later, I’m afraid. The High Lord is no doubt waiting.”
The moment they entered the hallway, Kesara fell into step a discreet distance behind him and to his left. He glanced back at her a time or two as they made their way to the High Lord’s tower to make certain she was keeping pace, as his legs were so much longer than hers, but she appeared to be doing so without any effort. Any emotion or tension he had seen in her back in his study had completely dissipated without a trace. She looked calm and entirely neutral, her blue eyes again distant and unreadable, though he still felt her unhappiness through the bond, a need for something he wasn’t sure about. He would have to examine it later, and he tried to put it to the side for now. There were more pressing matters at hand. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, especially when he took so much time telling Kesara there was nothing to worry about, but in truth, he felt the potential implications of this introduction keenly. He was uncertain how it was going to go, what the High Lord was going to think, if this was merely a matter of curiosity on the older man’s part or something else entirely. He felt as though he were navigating a battlefield shrouded in fog, not quite sure if he was about to take another free step or walk face first into someone’s cudgel.
Oh, but how he hated being at Court!
They entered the tower and the same front room Thane had spent the evening before in. Any hope Thane may have had that this would be a private introduction quickly evaporated: it was now nearly twice as crowded as it had been before, and the table and its accompanying chairs had been removed from the dais. The High Lord sat on a modest but elegant throne at its end, apparently immersed in conversation with a noble who stood at his elbow. The various clusters of gossiping nobles hushed at once as Thane was announced; evidently, they were expecting something. He gave a polite incline of his head and walked stoically down the length of the hall to the High Lord, fighting the temptation to look back at Kesara. He could tell her anxiety was almost as keen as his.
