by M. J. Scott
Back in Anglion, in the wake of the excitement of their unexpected reunion, Imogene had been strangely reticent to talk about Chloe's family. She had reassured Chloe that they were all well and provided some brief details, such as the fact that Chloe had brothers-in-law and nieces and nephews she’d never met. Having seen how her family, in turn, went quiet and stiff every time Chloe mentioned Imogene's name, she now understood why. Clearly things had become strained between them after Chloe left. It was time to address the issue.
"Mama, Imogene was my best friend. I’m hoping she will be again. Nothing Charl did was her fault."
Her mother winced, her dark eyes glancing away. Her hair had streaks of gray amongst the earth-witch red now, and she was still thinner than Chloe would have liked. Not as deathly thin as she had been at the worst of her illness, but not the strong and healthy mama of Chloe's youth. The peach tones of her dress added color to her face but not quite enough. "You met that man at Imogene's betrothal ball. You cannot deny that much."
She flicked her fingers dismissively, a gesture that struck Chloe as oddly Illvyan. But then many things had struck her as oddly Illvyan over the last three days. Even the language—though she found it returned easily enough to her lips—sounded both strange and familiar after a decade of the harsher sounds of Anglion.
"No. That much is true," Chloe agreed. "But Imogene didn't throw me into his path or force me to marry him." No, Chloe, smitten by Charl's looks and charm, had done the throwing and the reckless plunge into marriage all by herself. Imogene had actually suggested she take things more slowly. But Chloe, with her dreams of a career stymied by her mother's health and her head turned by the glamor of Imogene and Jean-Paul's rapid romance, had ignored that advice. Marriage had seemed a chance at adventure of another kind.
There had been many times that Chloe wished she could go back and change that moment. Take back the words and never ask Imogene to introduce her to Charl. But she had never blamed Imogene for what happened afterward. That was on Chloe's head. And Charl's. And, of course, Lucien's.
No. Do not think of that man.
She squared her shoulders. "None of it was Imogene's fault," she repeated. "You need to be kind to her. I doubt I have many friends left. And she did, after all, invade Anglion to find me." Granted, it had been part of a larger invasion, but Chloe knew it was Imogene—and her sanctii, Ikarus—who had focused on finding her during the craziness that had been the night Sophie returned to Anglion and became queen amidst rebellion and chaos. Her mother bowed her head a moment, then lifted it and smiled. The expression was somewhat strained, but her voice sounded genuine when she said, "If she has been a true friend to you, then I will be happy to see her again."
"Actually, she's invited me to tea at her townhouse," Chloe said. "So you can avoid her a little longer."
This time the wince that crossed her mother's face was impossible to miss.
Chloe reached out and took Ana’s hand, the bones of it feeling fragile under the skin. "Mama, it is perfectly safe. Imogene will send a carriage for me and return me promptly. I promise no one is going to steal me away." No one had stolen her away the first time. She had taken herself away, in the dead of night.
At the time, she hadn't let herself think about the cost to her family. Even in Anglion, that was something she had tried not to dwell on. She was alive. Safe. She was fairly certain they knew that much. There were a few complicated channels of communication—both legal and otherwise—between Anglion and her sworn enemy Illvya, and news trickled back and forth. The captain who'd transported her across the sea between the empire and the island nation had promised to take word back that she was safe. But it was too dangerous to stay in contact with Charl's crimes so fresh. She had to hope it was enough that they knew where she was.
Safe but exiled was preferable to dead.
"I know, darling," Ana said. "It's foolish. But you were gone for so long a time. I haven't had my fill of you yet."
Chloe smiled. "Nor I of you. But I’m not going anywhere, and we must start to find a new routine. You have friends of your own and things that you must want to get back to."
"Nothing that cannot wait a while longer."
She kept the smile in place but hoped it didn't appear strained. She'd expected her family to be happy to have her home. Had imagined hours and days alone with them. She'd thought it would feel nothing but joyous.
It had been joyous. But there was an edge of worry to her mother's attentions that made her uneasy. She didn't want to cause her mother any more pain or, Goddess forbid, cause a relapse of her illness, but she couldn't let Ana keep her at home forever.
But she could indulge her for another day or so. Ana's fears would lessen once she accepted that Chloe really was home. At least she hoped so.
Chapter 2
Imogene waited until her very correct seneschal had left the room before embracing Chloe in a hug so tight, she nearly couldn't breathe.
It was a long time before either of them let go. "You're finally home." Imogene smiled so wildly, blue eyes sparkling, that she looked about sixteen again. Far less regal than a duquesse should despite her expensive gown and the pearl-and-sapphire combs taming her dark hair.
It was impossible to stop an answering grin. "So it seems."
"And is it wonderful?" Imogene asked. She plopped herself down on one of the spindly legged sofas dotted around the room, patting the pale green velvet in invitation.
The grin faded a little. "It is...disorienting," Chloe said after a pause. "Things are different." Nothing stood still in ten years, and it seemed she was constantly noticing changes—small and large.
Take, for example, Imogene's parlor.
The du Laqs still used the townhouse in Coteau-Arge, near the Imperial Palace where they'd lived when they'd first wed rather than the grander home the old duq had favored. But the last time Chloe stood in this room, it had been awash in pale blues and grays, all low velvet divans and watery-sheened wallpaper, with crystal light fittings and lamps shimmering light everywhere.
Now it was a confection of light greens and yellows and pinks, the furniture light and airy, the fabrics floral. The walls were now white with a border of tiles also painted with tiny flowers. Real flowers graced the tables in tall white porcelain vases, filling the warm afternoon air with scents she'd half forgotten. Anglion and Illvya shared some plant life but not all of it. She thought of her notebook tucked safely back in her dressing table at home and her stores of Anglion herbs. She would have to go shopping. Round out her collection with some of the Illvyan remedies she had been unable to obtain in Anglion.
Imogene lifted an eyebrow, then shook her head, patting the sofa again. "I suppose they must be. But your family must be so happy to see you safe."
"They are. And I am exceedingly happy to be home. But I will confess it was nice to leave the house. They all keep watching me like I might vanish into thin air if they look away." Chloe sat beside Imogene, wondering if she sounded crazy.
"You all just need time to adjust," Imogene said. She cocked her head. "You've been through a lot."
That was the goddess's own truth. But Chloe was worried that it was perhaps too much to truly recover from. That she would never fully understand what it had been like for her family left with the aftermath here in Lumia, and that they would never fully understand what her life had been in Anglion. Or how Charl’s betrayal had changed her. "I hope so."
"I find time solves many problems," Imogene said sagely.
Chloe giggled. "That was very duquesse-like of you."
Imogene stuck out her tongue in a very un-noble fashion. "You try being one for years and see how you sound."
"No, thank you. No more dabbling with the aristos for me."
Imogene's face fell. "Dearest, I didn't mean—"
Chloe patted her knee. "It's fine. Charl has been dead for ten years now. As you said, time is...useful." Useful but not a cure-all. Sometimes the memories of her marriage seemed like a distant
dream. Sometimes the grief of what he’d done still cut through her like a knife. And, sometimes, so did the memory of the times they had been happy.
"Have you had any word from his family?" Imogene asked.
"No. I'm sure they want nothing to do with me."
"Perhaps. But there must be legal matters to see to. You were his wife."
Trust Imogene to get straight to the point. Her family, so far, had not raised the subject. Waiting for her to broach it, perhaps. But she wasn't ready for that. Easier to speak her fears to Imogene. "The wife of a traitor. The wife who ran away." The thought of approaching the de Montesse family made her stomach twist. Charl's parents had been kind to her on the whole, but they'd been fast to distance themselves when their son fell afoul of the law.
Imogene straightened, frowning. "But you need money, dearest."
Chloe wrinkled her nose. "I have money enough to rent an apartment when I am ready. My shop in Kingswell was quite the success."
The frown lightened to something closer to curiosity. "One day you will have to explain to me how you convinced the Anglion dominas to ignore an Illvyan selling magical supplies."
"Better to sell the supplies than practice the magic," Chloe said. "By the time I bought the store, I had been assisting Ginevra for several years and causing no trouble. Keep your nose clean long enough and you become boring. Besides, everything I sold was for earth witches. Perfectly respectable." If not the most exciting way to spend her days. Yes, the herbal lore and such healing as the average Anglion earth witches used were interesting, but they limited themselves with their taboos and rules. She knew her skills were nothing close to an Illvyan healer's. Or even a strong Anglion one. The temple trained those, and while they had tolerated Chloe, they wouldn't have welcomed her showing any interest in learning more magic.
One of Imogene's perfect brows arched. "From what I've seen of the Anglion temple, they're very willing to stick their noses in, even if you're boring. But you'll tell me more another time," she said. "So, you can afford to rent an apartment when you’re ready, and thus the de Montesse family can wait. Which brings us to the question of how you plan to fill your days."
Chloe huffed out a surprised laugh. Imogene had never been the shy and retiring type, and becoming a duquesse had only made her more direct with time. "That's not an easy question. And I don't know the answer yet. Papa wants me to spend a semester at the Academe. Refresh my theory, as it were. It is a reasonable enough plan." Even if she wasn't sure she wanted to comply. The need to reconnect with her magic, she couldn't deny. The familiar strength of Lumia's ley lines had been humming through her veins since she stepped off the ship, but she'd been too nervous try her magic again. Not even the small earth magics she'd allowed herself back in Kingswell, let alone the water magic she hadn't touched for so long.
"That seems a sound idea," Imogene said. "A way to accustom yourself to being back in Lumia. The Academe doesn't change much, even if the students do."
No mention of the fact that Chloe needed the practice, which was kind.
Imogene chewed her lip briefly. "Jean-Paul and I are holding a small ball next week. I would love for you to come."
Alarm pricked down Chloe's spine. A 'small' ball? She'd been to a few of their balls before Jean-Paul had become the duq. They'd hardly been 'small' then. Doubtful they would have shrunk now that he was one of the highest-ranking men in the country. "I'm not sure if I'm quite ready for that—"
Imogene held up a hand. "The emperor asked me to invite you," she said. "He seems quite adamant that you should take your place in society again."
The prick of alarm turned to a shiver. Why should the emperor care if she attended balls and parties? "I don't really have a place in society. I'm the common-born widow of a mere younger son. One who did a terrible thing. I have no desire to return to court life or be in the public eye."
"I understand," Imogene said, her tone sympathetic but firm. "But Aristides wishes it to be clear that you are in favor and not tainted by what Charl did. That can't happen if you hide yourself away."
That was definitely the duquesse talking. Chloe needed to remember that Imogene had changed, too. For one thing, she was now close enough to the emperor that she called him by his first name. He had always been fond of her, of course. Imogene had foiled an attempt to poison the empress before she was even married to Jean-Paul. Imogene and Jean-Paul had both increased their rank and influence since then. Not to mention that Imogene had designed the flying ships—the navire d'avions—that were going to be an invaluable tool to the empire as Chloe understood it.
"Am I to take it that this invitation is more a command?"
Imogene hitched a shoulder. "Close. I suspect you could refuse this particular invitation. But if you do, they will only keep coming. Both from me and whoever else Aristides chooses to involve."
Hardly likely anyone from Charl's former circle would be enthusiastic about the idea of inviting her to a gathering. But Chloe had other friends from court back then. Younger women like herself. Now less young. And, of course, there were whole other circles of society centered around the Academe and the parliament. The latter she would be avoiding. It had been a parliamentarian who had lured Charl into his idiocy, amongst others. Though the full extent of the conspiracy had never been uncovered. Charl had confessed, but he hadn’t known all the other parties. A pawn, not an instigator. Lucien had told her that much. She might hate the man, but she knew he wouldn't lie.
He didn't need to.
His powers as a Truth Seeker were unrivaled. And his reputation, even then, still early in his career, impeccable. The de Roche family was more powerful than the de Montesses, and he was the heir. He'd had nothing to gain from condemning his best friend. He'd done it because he believed in law and duty and the truth more than friendship, it seemed.
Rationally, she understood. But she loathed him still for the role he'd played in everything she'd lost. When her father had told her that no other conspirators had ever been unearthed beyond the first three who'd confessed with Charl, that loathing only deepened. What use was truth seeking if it couldn't even bring those who'd corrupted Charl to justice?
So no, no parliamentarians. But she suspected Imogene was correct. If indeed the emperor wanted her to join in, then join in she would. Yet another thread of oddity wrapped around her return, tugging her more off-kilter. She may have been in exile in Anglion and may have had to obey the rules of Anglion society to a degree, but she'd had a far freer life there than she would if she was to step back into the life of a society lady in Lumia.
Imogene took her silence for indecision. "I understand that you may not wish to deal with the court. And with what comes with it. The gossip and nonsense and people intentionally misunderstanding what happened. You will have some hard moments, yes. But those moments will come regardless. If you take the initiative and show them you are not ashamed—because you have nothing to be ashamed of—and that you still have the friendship of not only Jean-Paul and me but the emperor, then there will be far fewer such moments. Many of them will be expecting you to be an apologetic mouse, hiding from scandal. Don't give them the satisfaction. Show them you are not their prey, and they will find someone else to toy with."
She made it sound simple. But such things rarely were. However, refusing wasn’t an option. But if she agreed in the interests of getting the worst of it over and done with and then being able to slowly fade out of view, there was another problem. If she wore her Anglion clothes, the Illvyan courtiers would think her mouse-like indeed. A peculiar mouse at that.
"I don't have any ball gowns." She'd brought the dress she'd worn to Queen Sophia's coronation back with her. A reminder of one happier moment in Anglion. But Anglion court dress was oddly old-fashioned. The dresses were beautiful but ornate, with huge, stiffened skirts and myriad wide petticoats. Definitely not what an Illvyan might wear to a friend's ball.
Not that she knew what an Illvyan would wear to a ball now. Fashions had
changed. Skirts were narrower but more draped, and the colors and patterns were different to her memories. Imogene’s glorious sapphire-blue silk dress was embroidered with vines of black flowers and was, as her clothes always were, a triumph of the clothier's art.
There'd been no need for ball gowns in Kingswell, and Chloe stuck to deepest green or dark gray or midnight blue for practicality—mixing potions could get messy—and to ensure she drew no additional attention. But wearing such somber colors in Lumia would do precisely that. No point in reminding everyone where she'd been and why she'd been there. "Though perhaps Mama kept some of my old ones," she finished.
That brought a contemplative expression to Imogene's face. "Ten years out of date? You might as well wear an Anglion gown. But perhaps there are some that can be made over in time. But for now, no. We need a gown that no one can fault. Which will be no problem. I know all the best clothiers." She tilted her head, dimples flashing. "They will be falling over themselves to make you a wardrobe."
"I expect that your clothiers are out of my price range. I need to pay for rent, not gowns."
"You are ignoring the fact that I have ten years of missed birthdays and Fete de Froi presents to make up for," Imogene said triumphantly. "I will buy you some dresses."
Chloe shook her head, laughing. She should have expected that offer. "Is there any point in me arguing about this?"
"Jean-Paul claims there never is," Imogene said, laughing.
Jean-Paul was probably right. Imogene had always been single-minded in pursuit of whatever she set her mind on. "All right. You may buy me a gown."
"Gowns," Imogene corrected.
"A few," Chloe said, throwing up her hands in defeat. "Not an entire flock. I have no need for a wardrobe as large as yours." Imogene had had an entire room devoted to her wardrobe when Chloe had last been in Lumia. And even then, those were only the clothes she kept in the city. Given she spent half her days in military uniform, it made Chloe tired to think of how many outfit changes palace life must require for her to need so many.
