by Claire Frank
They made their way up the low incline away from the docks toward the city gates. The huge walls towered above them and the guards at the gate checked all who passed through. Daro and Griff led the horses in front. Cecily could hear their voices but couldn’t quite make out their words. Speaking of business, she assumed. Griff and Serv were well-respected merchants, both in Halthas itself and in the neighboring kingdoms. Most of the goods Daro intended to sell would go through them, although Daro would deal with some of his customers directly. Most of Cecily’s books would be sold through them as well, particularly the ones bound for the Lyceum. It saved her the trouble of dealing with the administration of her former school, as she hadn’t exactly left on good terms. She sighed as she thought about the bridges she’d burned in the city.
Serv walked alongside the wagon, his hand resting lightly on the side. He wore his sword with the assurance of someone who knew how to use it. Edson walked next to Cecily at the back of the wagon, his head darting back and forth as he took in the sights, smells and sounds of the city. It was impressive, even in the less affluent quarters near the river. The buildings showed little wear, despite their age. Cecily often wondered if there were Shapers alive who could reproduce the long-lasting architecture of the older structures.
Griff and Serv’s warehouse wasn’t far from the riverfront. The air hung heavy with the scents of fish, horses, and crowded bodies. Daro drifted to the back of the wagon and fell into step with Cecily. She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and squeezed him gently. He didn’t love being in the city, but she could sense his greater ease at being off the riverboat.
The streets were busy and Cecily noticed signs of festivities. Floral wreaths decorated doors and garlands hung along the rooflines and over windows. She and Daro always visited Halthas during the Feast of Sovereignty, a late-summer festival celebrating the triumph of Halthas over the Attalonian invasion.
Their wagon lumbered ahead and Daro leaned in to Cecily. “I’ll catch up,” he said and veered off to the side. The crowd parted for him as he walked.
Edson fell into step with her as they turned up a side street. “Where’s he going?”
“He probably smelled food,” she said.
They continued toward Griff and Serv’s warehouse, and Daro met them after a short while. He handed a small bundle to Cecily and tossed one to Edson, who held it up to his nose and sniffed.
“What is it?” Edson asked.
“Meat pie,” Daro said. He held a crisp brown pastry wrapped in a thin cloth. He took a bite and closed his eyes, chewing slowly. “This makes it all worthwhile.”
Cecily laughed. “I told you he smelled food.”
The streets were lined with tidy two-story buildings, shops on the ground floor and living quarters above. The party paused at a crossroads and Daro conferred briefly with Griff. Their goods would be taken to Griff and Serv’s warehouse for safekeeping overnight. Daro would begin distribution of many of his special order pieces the next day, delivering to some of his more prominent clients personally. She knew his reputation as a war hero only added to his popularity, but she was careful to keep that to herself. He bristled at the thought that people valued his work for his name over his craftsmanship. She wondered if her family had any of his work displayed in their home. It made her smile to know her mother must be torn between her disdain for Daro and her desire to keep up with current fashion. Maybe she would bring a piece for her mother when she visited. It would either please her mother because she could brag about her relationship to the artist, or it would rankle her, which Cecily had to admit, would certainly be pleasing to her.
As they walked toward their usual inn, the Rising Sun, Cecily resolved to visit her family in the morning and bring with her a token of Daro’s craft as a gift. Maybe not a token; perhaps something large that they couldn’t help but display. Yes, something large would do nicely. For the first time, she actually looked forward to her visit with her family, if only to see the look on her mother’s face.
5. FAMILY MATTERS
Cecily clung to the bedpost and sucked in a deep breath while Daro worked the cords of her corset. He pulled the strings tight and she let out a little “ouch.”
Daro loosened the strings a bit before tying them. “Sorry. You know I hate fastening you in this contraption. I’m terrible at it.”
“Aw, don’t you like dressing me?” She looked over her shoulder and pressed her lips together in a smile.
“I’d rather be undressing you,” Daro answered and pulled her in close. “You do look rather delicious in all this finery.” He leaned down and kissed her while his hands slid around her waist to her corset strings.
She pushed him back with a gentle nudge. “Oh no. I’m not going through all that cinching again. Not today, at any rate.”
Daro smiled and reached out to brush his fingers across her bare collarbone. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, cascading down her back, and he pushed a few loose tendrils away from her neck. His touch sent a pleasant tingle down her spine. He leaned in and kissed her shoulder, and she let him lay her down gently on the bed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have to re-dress.
Half an hour later, she was dressed and thought she had her hair under control. She spun around and fluffed her skirt. The corset was deep green and plunged to a low ‘v’ in front, emphasizing the shape of her hips. The top was straight and pushed her breasts up, an effect she found dramatically uncomfortable, and Daro obviously found alluring. Her blouse was cream-colored with a small ruffle across the neckline and black ribbons sewn into the long sleeves, making it appear as if they tied down the sides. The floor-length skirt had wide, deep green stripes alternating with pale green. Brighter colors were the current fashion in Halthas, but Cecily would only go so far to please her mother’s sensibilities.
“Well?” she asked and looked to her husband for approval.
His mouth turned up in a lazy smile. “You look incredible, as always. Of course, you could be wearing brown burlap and you’d still look wonderful.”
“I think brown burlap might be more comfortable than this ensemble.”
“Then why wear it?”
“It’s one less thing for her to complain about, I guess,” she said. She turned and moved her hair out of the way as Daro draped a necklace around her neck and fastened the clasp behind her.
“And this doesn’t give her cause for complaint?” he asked as he ran his fingers along the chain at her throat and cupped the blue stone in his large hand.
It was simple at first glance, a winding chain of silver with a deep blue sapphire that dangled at her neck. The setting for the stone was an intricate lace of woven silver holding the sparkling gem in place. Daro had made it for her, painstakingly weaving each thread of silver around the sapphire. It had been Daro’s bridal gift to her; there was nothing she valued more.
Cecily fingered the necklace at her throat. The low-cut blouse that was so fashionable in Halthas ensured her Imaran-style necklace was visible. “If she complains about my necklace now she’s just being petty. She’s commented on it enough times in the past. But I can see it in her eyes, she knows it’s beautiful.”
Daro ran his fingers along her temple and down to her neck. She met his eyes and smiled. “You need to wipe that grin off your face,” she said and gave him a playful nudge. “Edson will be looking for you soon and you can’t go out looking like that.”
“Looking like what?” He brushed his hair back from his face. Giving her another lazy smile, he traced his finger across her collarbone again. A knock at the door made Cecily start and she felt her face flush.
Daro narrowed his eyes at her. “What?” he asked with a laugh. “Your aristocratic sensibilities come out at the funniest times. We’re married, love. We have been for a while now and I’m pretty sure everyone knows it.” He gave her a knowing look.
She tried to brush him off as he went to answer the door. “I know. The knock just startled me a little.”
He raised his eyebrows and smiled before he opened the door. Edson was waiting on the other side and his eyes went wide when he caught sight of Cecily. He stared at her openly for a moment before Daro gave an exaggerated cough.
Edson blinked before he regained his composure. He walked in the room, nodding to Daro, and approached Cecily. He took her hand in his and bowed forward, gently brushing her fingers with his lips. Releasing her hand, he paused with just the slightest hesitation, his eyes flicking up to the ceiling. “Lady Imaran, it pleases me greatly to make your acquaintance this morning,” he said finally.
“Well done, Edson. That was very proper.”
Daro gave Cecily a wicked smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Cecily looked far too tempting in that dress.” He winked at Edson, then looked back at Cecily, sizing her up like a predator would his prey.
Her mouth dropped open. “Daro!” she said and felt her face flush anew. These things were simply not for open conversation, and she didn’t care if he thought it was her stuffy aristocratic manners showing.
Daro laughed and patted a rather uncomfortable-looking Edson on the back. Turning back to Cecily, he asked, “Do you want us to see you to the bridge?”
She glared at him for a few more seconds before answering. “No, I arranged for a carriage.”
He walked back to stand in front of her and gently ran his hands up and down her arms. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” he asked.
She met his eyes and smiled with resignation. “No, I’ll be fine.”
He nodded and kissed her before leading Edson out the door, on their way to attend to their first day of business in the city.
Cecily took a deep breath and steeled herself for her first task of the day, then made her way outside to await her carriage, secretly hoping her family might be out of the city when she called.
***
The carriage ride wasn’t long and as it slowed to a stop, Cecily felt her heartbeat quicken. Her stomach was tight and she chided herself for being so agitated. This had been her home; it shouldn’t send her into such spasms of anxiety. With all she’d faced in the war, it seemed ridiculous that a simple visit to her own family would be cause for such trembling.
She took another deep breath as a footman opened the carriage door. He took her hand and helped her down the step onto the walk in front of her family estate.
Although situated in the heart of Halthas, her childhood home gave the impression of a country manor. A large, imposing building bordered by trees and large shrubbery on all sides, it was isolated from the surrounding cityscape. Stone steps led up to the oversized double wooden doors. Cecily had bounded up and down those steps countless times in her youth, greeting friends and relatives who came to call.
She had sent word early that morning so that her parents would be expecting her but wouldn’t have time to prepare much of a spectacle. She thought back to the earliest days of her marriage, when she hadn’t been welcome here at all. It had been a bit of a relief to know she simply needn’t see them. There were no decisions to be made or guilt for not visiting. But after the war, when her name had spread amongst the ranks of the heroes, her family had rescinded their disownment and publicly boasted of their famous daughter. She knew her parents saw her as a means to furthering their own cause, and it dug deep.
She gave instructions to the footman to bring Daro’s chest inside. It was exquisitely crafted, the dark wood inlaid with light in a pattern of curved lines weaving in and out of each other. She chose it because it was so distinctly Daro’s design. Any one of her family’s acquaintances who were familiar with his work would recognize the craftsmanship. Plus, it was large and worth a hefty price. Her mother would be unable to refuse such an extravagant gift without seriously violating the rules of propriety.
She carefully picked up her skirt as she walked up the steps, and another footman opened the door. She felt herself falling back into her noble posture with ease, her left elbow bent as if waiting for an escort to take her arm, her right hand clutching her skirt with the tips of her fingers. Part of her wanted to rebel, to come calling in her normal clothes, her hair undone. She’d done just that, in her first visits after the war. She hadn’t the strength or patience to pretend to be Cecily Graymere anymore. But she’d learned over the last few years how to make her visits more cordial, and therefore more tolerable. Dressing up and putting on aristocratic manners seemed to improve her mother’s mood.
“Milady,” the footman said as he led her into the sitting room. “Lady Graymere will receive you shortly.” A few refreshments sat on a gleaming silver tray. The room was pleasantly warm and Cecily had to suppress a chuckle. Her parents had installed a hearthstone in their fireplace. Similar to the glowstones everyone used for light, hearthstones were an Imaran wonder, something even the most skilled Halthian Wielders at the Lyceum had been unable to duplicate. They were smooth stones, fairly large and heavier than they appeared. Their mix of pale green and cream color was not particularly eye-catching, but what made them remarkable was their ability to regulate the temperature of a room. If it was cold, they emanated heat. On a warm day, they cooled the space, keeping the room at a comfortable temperature. They had been popular in Halthas for years and Cecily was sure the Imaran traders made a substantial sum for them.
Two figures appeared in the doorway and Cecily turned to greet them. Her younger sister, Liliana, bounced into the room and grasped Cecily with a squeal. She was slightly taller than Cecily, with the same dark brown hair and alabaster skin. Her cream blouse was cinched with a lavender corset, her voluminous yellow skirt arcing wide around her hips, embroidered with small birds and flowers in shades of lavender and blue. Her hair was swept up on top of her head in current Halthian fashion, held up with sparkling clips and pins topped with small pearls.
“Cecily!” she exclaimed as she gripped Cecily’s hands in her own. “It is so marvelous to see you! I wish you wouldn’t stay away so long. What a lovely dress! The colors are a little dull though, don’t you think? How long have you been in the city?”
“Liliana, please contain yourself,” the other figure in the doorway said, cutting off Liliana’s unbroken stream of chatter. Lady Martessa Graymere was a stately, imposing woman, dressed immaculately in a long burgundy-and-gold brocade overdress, with gold laces up the front and a collar of lace spilling out the top for modesty. Her gray hair was pinned back, every piece smooth and precisely in place.
Liliana stepped dutifully aside as their mother glided into the room. Cecily dipped into a low curtsy as her mother approached. Martessa reached out to grasp Cecily’s hands as she straightened, and gave her a forced smile. There had never been much warmth between Cecily and her mother. Martessa’s cold eyes glinted as she regarded her daughter, and her gaze swept the room behind them. She’s probably making sure Daro isn’t here.
“My daughter, how lovely of you to think of us on your visit.” She squeezed her daughter’s hands and dropped them a little too abruptly.
Cecily bit back a sharp remark and smiled. “I am pleased to see you again, Mother.”
Lady Martessa swept past, lowered herself deliberately onto the edge of a chair and picked up a cup of steaming tea. She did not invite Cecily to sit. Liliana took a seat on the other side of the refreshment table. As a resident of the house, Liliana was permitted to sit without invitation. Cecily had to wait. Struggling for patience, she clasped her hands in front of her and resolved not to speak first.
Liliana seemed oblivious to the standoff in front of her. “Will Father and Royce be joining us, Mother?” she asked. “I know they’re terribly busy, but I was so hoping they would come see Cecily.”
Lady Martessa turned her chin toward her younger daughter and took a careful sip from her delicate porcelain cup. “No, Liliana, your father and brother will not be joining us this morning.”
Liliana sighed with obvious dismay. “Mother, really, they must have time for this. We’re just having a bit of tea.”
; Martessa’s jaw clenched. “That will be enough, Liliana.”
Cecily rarely saw her father and older brother. Her Lord Ellis Graymere had been largely absent even when she was still in the family’s good graces, frequently engaged with the family’s business dealings. Her brother Royce had never forgiven her for marrying Daro and leaving the Lyceum. He treated her with cold indifference whenever he saw her.
Finally, Martessa motioned for Cecily to sit. Cecily nodded to her mother, determined to remain the picture of decorum, and sat down on the edge of a chair, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
“Well, then,” her mother continued, appearing to have decided some conversation was in order. “How is your health?”
My health? “I’m well, thank you for asking,” she answered, not quite sure how else to answer the question. Liliana took a cup of tea and sipped it, peeking out over the top of the porcelain.
Martessa motioned for her servant to hand Cecily a cup of tea and continued. “Good. And you are still living out in”—she paused and waved one hand around idly—”wherever it is you live?”
“Near Norgrost Keep,” she answered.
“Yes, yes,” she said with a dismissive flit of her hand. “Did you hear that Calden Dover recently completed his training at the Lyceum?”
Cecily tried to look interested but wondered how her mother thought she would hear about the minutiae of the Halthian court. The Dovers were another noble family and had always been close allies of the Graymeres, but she couldn’t recall Calden specifically.
