Holding her breath, peering from a crack in the closet door, Theresa watched as Yewin slipped into the Morgue.
Her insides went as cold as the frosty room.
And she saw the Green Magi as if for the first time.
Gone was the rosy smile that normally blessed his face. His features were cold and composed; green eyes shrewd and cruel. Reptile's eyes. Like some monster, his short breaths curled up bright plumes of white as he scanned the room. And she put a hand over her mouth lest the same cloud give her away.
This man was a stranger. An oath breaker.
A murderer.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Theresa cursed herself for not thinking this through. Of course he would be watching the morgue! Because at sunset the Theodrick's family would carry his body to his pyre. The body would be burned so that he could follow his soul into the beyond. And all the evidence would be destroyed, which is why she acted so rashly. But it was stupid of her not to stop and think. Not to realize Yewin would be watchful of anyone interacting with the body. She probably blundered through a whole slew of charms. Not for the first time she despaired at being non-magical. The world of the Magi was completely foreign to her. Too many possibilities for sneakiness. She couldn't consider them all. Her head just didn't work that way.
Theresa's knees went weak as Yewin paused.
A frown pulled his lips down as he regarded Theodrick's exposed arm.
Shit, shit, shit!
She'd forgotten to put the sheet back.
The green Magi returned the cloth. And then cleared his throat.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are?" He sang cheerfully.
Making her go light-headed with terror. Because the expression on his face was anything but pleasant. It was dangerous. And they were so very deep into the Green Wing. No one would probably hear her if she screamed.
"Are we going to play a game?" He continued, stooping to look under the tables. "I do love hide and seek. But I know you're in here. And I will find you."
Pocketing the vial, backing into the corner of the closet, she ran her hands over the paneling. Trying not to panic as the smooth wall remained whole. There had to be a passage here! They were everywhere! Practically every closet had an access panel. How else where the maintenance crews supposed to get into the walls to fix the pipes!? Her nails dug into the seems of the wood, prying at the length of wood until it popped open miraculously. She almost dropped it! Squeezing through into the narrow passage, Theresa yanked the panel back into place just as Yewin threw open the closet doors.
Pressed back into the yawning dark, she held her breath, going still as stone, staring through the cracks in the paneling. Her skirts did nothing to warm her now. Cold sweat had broken out all across her skin, beading on her upper lip. And her hand went to the pistol in her pocket.
The Green prayed.
Prayed to the Stars that fate would not make her an Oath breaker as well.
She had only one shot. But she was a good shot.
Ryden was teaching her musketry.
And he was a very good teacher.
But Yewin only stared. His countenance wiped with shock for a brief moment as he scoured the empty closet. And a blade of light caught his face as he straightened. Frustration twisted it into a mask of fury. With a stab of relief she realized he couldn't see her! Didn't have a clue that she was there!
Perhaps there was some value in being non-magical after all.
She cringed back against the slats and plaster, feeling the sharp prick of nails as he slammed the doors. Dust filtered down from above, and she bowed her head, covering her face as she struggled not to sneeze. Seconds later the double doors squeaked and from inside the wall Theresa listened to him stalk down the hall. And her insides skittered in terror as the floorboards creaked beneath her feet when he passed within inches of her. Going down the corridor. Around the corner. Back towards the front desk.
A sneezing fit seized her as Theresa sank to her knees, skirts ballooning up, filling the narrow space. She sat there a long moment as her teeth chattered in the dark. Dizzy with relief and her madly pumping heart rate.
If he knew when she'd entered then he'd know when she left.
But she had no intentions of leaving via the Morgue's front door.
Sideling down the passage, Theresa clambered around the pipes and wires winding their way through the insides of the wall. Finally coming to a junction. Here the pipes went up through a shaft that stretched all the way to the attic for all she knew. These shafts were all throughout the palace. And she could get from one floor to another easily by climbing the pipes. All that time climbing trees suddenly paid off big time. But there was no way she was getting up four stories in ten skirts and a pair of boots.
Shucking down to her bloomers and chemise, hooking the pistol through the back of her smalls, she stowed the vial of blood in her pocket. Suddenly she was very grateful to whatever mad women decided the undergarment needed a pocket. Grabbing the nearest pipe she yanked back her hands with a hiss. Hot water in that one. Finding a cooler pipe, she hauled herself up, bracing with her bare feet as she climbed, counting the floors. Martha's office was at the very top of the Green Wing. And embedded in the closet door was a portal back to their town estate. Built on the same plot as the house they'd lost in the Daemon War.
Her arms were aching. Thighs trembling.
Because it'd been a long time since she'd had time to climb trees.
Martha had long since ceased doing business as an herbalist. Her time was completely taken up as Green Representative to the Tri-Council and coordinator of the various departments constituting the Healer's Guild. More and more she leaned on Theresa to keep things running at the Green Guild as Council work became more and more entangled with arguments. But they still had a workshop at the cottage. Everything she needed was there.
And all she wanted right now was to be home.
Home was safe.
And right now she very much wanted safe.
Because something in Yewin's eyes chilled her to the core. Something appallingly familiar. She'd seen that look before. The look of someone who believed in what they were doing, believed no matter what the cost. It was the same look in Erin Danna's eyes when she tried to take Akarshan from her during the Daemon Wars.
Suddenly her hands closed over a wet length of pipe.
And the traction of her bare feet failed as they encountered slippery metal.
She slid several feet, clinging to the pipe as it jerked with a rickety pop, leaning to the side with a groan. Water poured down from above. Hitting her like a cold slap to the face. Coughing and sputtering, she reached for the opposite pipe, gritting her teeth as the hot metal burned her palms. Shimmying across, she escaped the waterfall, hauling herself up in spite of the blistering heat. Throwing herself the last few inches until her hands caught the lip of the top floor. Dangling by her arms, she stared in dismay as the broken pipe dumped a steady stream of water down the duct.
The bottom floor was going to flood completely!
And she groaned miserably.
Because she was the one that would see to clean up.
Pulling herself up onto the dusty landing, she sidled her way through the wall, making much easier progress without skirts or petticoats in her way. And the dust cleared. A testament to how much time she spent inside these walls. Darting her way through the familiar labyrinth of the fourth floor corridors. Her teeth were chattering as she popped out into the sharp herby darkness inside the storage closet. Peering through the keyhole, she found the office empty. Martha must have gone home. Thank the stars. Because she couldn't quite conceive of a way to explain how she'd managed to loose her clothes and get drenched in water inside the storage closet let alone try and explain the gun tucked into her knickers. Martha abhorred weapons of any kind.
She closed the closet after her, turning the dial to green.
Snatching back her hand as a prickly stab surged up her arm.
Theresa stared at the control panel. Baffled.
Because it'd never done that before.
Her insides lurched as she touched the latch, receiving the same eerie tingle. Goosebumps shivered their way up her skin as the very joints of her fingers seemed to vibrate. And she marveled. Because this was magic! She was feeling magic! Theresa yanked the door open and pitched through the portal, stumbling into the front entry of their house. The door creaked closed, and as the connection severed her insides spun giddily. Theresa caught a hold of the coat rack beside the door, clinging until the world ceased to pitch. Her rear hit the tiled steps before she realized she'd sat down. She was positively quaking with relief.
Home! Her insides thrilled. Safe!
Scrambling up, she grabbed a jar by the front door and doused the threshold with a handful of sharply smelling green leaves. Agrimony. Martha insisted on having it by all the portals. Old habits and superstitions died hard, but there was nothing wrong with a little protection from evil. Sticking a spring of it in her hair, Theresa listened to the house.
Nothing but quiet greeted her.
Martha was either asleep or Sophie'd brought her back to the castle.
It was hard to pass through the cozy drawing room and not fall down onto the cushions in Barimus' great red velvet chair. And the wide couch beckoned her, resplendent with a fuzzy purple afghan Granny Witch finished recently. It was always warm here even though there was no fire in the hearth. And a soothing light filtered through the gauzy emerald curtains. Her foster father rebuilt the house with all manner of magicks, permeating the very boards and bricks with charms and protections, some more practical than preventative. Although her bare feet slapped against the hardwood floors as she pushed by, ducking into the bright kitchen before hooking through a door leading to a flight of stairs that dropped down into the dark herby press of workshop beneath the cottage.
It was cold in the daylight basement in spite of the fact that it sported several south facing windows. Although there was about two feet of snow in the light shafts, half blocking the panes. Sending long shadows among the bushels and bunches of herbs hanging from the exposed rafters. Three long tables filled the open space with a u-shape of work space, and stands upon stands of glass faced cabinets lined the walls, brimming with bottles, jars, tins, and containers of all sizes, colors, and shapes.
But she didn't feel the bite of cold beneath her bare feet.
She'd been running hot for the past few days anyway.
Going to the work tables, Theresa fell into a flurry of action.
She hauled a spindly geared contraption out of the cabinets beneath the worktop. A series of curving glass lenses lined up as she turned the gears, an amplification glass designed by Howl himself. Theresa stopped a moment to light the gas lamps overhead as it proved still too dark. As she touched flame to the globes, he hooked open an adjacent cabinet with her toes, pausing to retrieve a glass jar full of flimsy white slips from the cabinets. Back at the work top, she pulled the vial from her pocket and held it up, gazing at the black liquid inside.
This was it.
The one chance she had at saving them all from bloodshed.
Carefully opening the jar, she used a pair of tweezers to pull out two slips of paper so white they seemed to glow in the gas light. Laying these out on the slate surface, she cracked the syringe, using a pin to collect a single drop from inside. Touching it to the slip, the paper sucked up the blood almost hungrily. But the dot stretched, separating, filling the tiny square with an almost unperceivable pattern. But it wasn't a pattern. The tiny squiggles were actually words.
TellSlips were extremely rare.
A magical component afforded them thru Barimus' position.
The charmed slips of rice paper would reveal in minute print any and all constituents of the substance touched to it. It was essential that they remain clean because they could easily be contaminated. But when used properly they were an amazing tool for diagnosing all manner of maladies.
Corking the vial, she put it back into her closet pocket.
No matter what, it was staying with her.
Then she used another needle to prick her own finger, touching the bright red blob to the second slip. She would run concurrent tests, using her blood as a control to compare to Theodrick's. Lifting the squares with tweezers, she affixed them to the specimen plate under the amplifying unit, turning and toggling the various lenses until the view through the top plate cleared. And the words coalesced, revealing themselves. Snagging a note pad from the work table, Theresa jotted down all the words on Theodrick's slip, comparing to her blood as necessary when things appeared that she didn't recognize. Baring all the usual male hormonal occupants, if it was present in her blood it should be present in his.
Then she found them.
Words scrawled in blotchy print that marked the fact that it did not belong.
Jumping up from the desk she hauled a massive black tome from the shelf, flipping through thousands of pages so thin they were transparent. Definitions of materials filled the book with tiny descriptions. And her insides stilled with victory and consternation as she looked up the components and found them capable to inducing lethal convulsions.
Nalir was right.
Theodrick had been poisoned.
But there was nothing in the chemistry of his blood to prove that Yewin had been the one to give him the dose.
Once again the hopelessness seized her. And Theresa sank her head into her hands over the viewing lenses. The tiny words blurred into oblivion until tears feel onto the glass plate. Blinking them back, she reached out to smudge away the salt, and then noticed something out of place on her slip. Something that didn't appear on Theodrick's. Something she didn't recognize. Frowning at it, she opened the desk reference and flipped through the pages. After reading halfway through the listing, she dropped the book.
It hit the table with a hollow thud, jolting the equipment awry. With shaking hands she fished out multiple slips. Stabbing another finger until scores of red rectangles lined up on the slate. All of them listing the same hormone. And her head emptied of anything but dates as she counted back the days only to find that she was late.
Gripping the edge of the table, Theresa forgot about everything.
Except for the fact that she was pregnant.
"Knock, knock!" Lettie sang from the upstairs landing.
And the freckle-faced woman started bolt upright, yanking the pistol from her bloomers only to stuff it in her closet pocket as the Caterer came down the stairs like a dream in pale pink chiffon. Theresa was gaping. The perfect bell of her skirts set off a waist still tiny in spite of three children. She must have been wearing at least twenty petticoats! And her platinum hair coiled up, pinned with diamonds to match the sparkles at her neck and ivory gloved wrists.
"I've been looking all over Kingsbury for you, young lady!" Although the blonde came up short at the bottom of the stairs. Hands going to her mouth as she stared first, then frowned in dismay. "Sweetheart, you're absolutely filthy! What have you been doing!?"
Theresa looked down at herself only to realize she was covered in thick grime and cobwebs. Lingering gifts from the innards of the Palace walls.
"Tsk, tsk! Girls!" The blonde caterer clapped her hands and a score of young women in pink Cesari's uniform flooded into the stairs. Lettie pointed right at her, making Theresa take a step backwards. "Get her into the bath. We've got a lot of work to do before the Ball starts."
The Cesari maidens flooded around her, pulling her upstairs where they scrubbed, buffed, and moisturized her within an inch of her life. And then they attacked her hair. Combed! Coiled! Pinned! It took three of them alone to pile it up on top of her head into a braided crown. A glorious corona of red. Theresa had to stand up straight otherwise she listed, more than top heavy. At some point in time they must have woken Martha up, because every so often she caught a glimpse of green among the sea of pink.
"Out!" Lettie scolded her sister.
"Hold still," one of the maids chided as she laced up the under corset.
Theresa'd only just managed to yank the pocket lining from her other bloomers before they drowned her legs in silk stockings, garters, and petticoats. But they weren't all that bad. The underskirts made an interesting swishing sensation against her skin. It was difficult not to rock from side to side to get them started. Anything to keep her mind off of the results.
Her knees wobbled as the thought skittered through the back of her head.
Like a spider trundling across the ceiling.
"Arms up!" Lettie ordered.
She threw her hands over her head only to be swallowed in endless yards of whispering gold as the girls eased the dress around her hair, guiding her arms through the tiny poofs that were a strange excuse for sleeves. There wasn't much to the top. The same for the cap sleeves. They just sort of hung off her shoulders. Pretty. But utterly useless. The same girl yanked her off balance as they pulled tight an external set of lacings. The others went after her bare arms with silky ivory gloves that buttoned with pearls at her wrists.
"Shoes!" Lettie commanded from somewhere. And Theresa jumped as someone grabbed one ankle after the other, guiding her feet into what she could only guess was a shoe. She couldn't see her feet in this get up.
Good gods, she'd never get out of this thing alone!
"And now the final touches," All at once the blond Hatter sister was right in front of her, brush in hand, face a perfect mask of concentration as she carefully applied various colors to her face. Finishing with a shlack of something sticky on her lips. The same glossy stuff that was probably on her lips.
"Do this," Lettie mimed rubbing her lips together and Theresa complied.
She stood back, looking her over with a critical eye. Tugging at her skirt and tucking at a few curls before her face broke into the most beautiful of smiles.
"Gold is a very good color on you, sweetheart."
Again she clapped and the girls withdrew. Avoiding the mirror and moving a little awkwardly at first, Theresa left the bath. Unnerved by the fact that her skirts filled the hallway entirely. Lettie was halfway down the hall, hands on her hips, scowling at her sister.
"Please tell me that's not what you're wearing! Green, Martha! Why must you always wear green!?"
The Herbalist was dressed up by any account Theresa could recall. Shining hair long and smooth like black silk save for the streaks of gray, wearing a velvet dress that fell like emerald water. Barimus' ruby necklace glittered like a drop of blood against her breast. But Martha didn't rise to Lettie's comment, nor did she loom or scowl back as she normally would have. She was too busy staring. Right at her. Her sallow face went sallower still as heat flooded Theresa's cheeks. Shock transforming to such subtle sadness her apprentice almost missed it.
A bewildered grimace pulled at her lips.
Or perhaps it was a smile.
Theresa couldn't tell.
"You're all grown up." Her foster mother breathed.
"Of course she's all grown up!" Lettie huffed as she shooed her girls down the stairs, following in their wake, "She's been a woman for a while."
But Lettie was down the stairs before she could catch the nasty look the Herbalist sent after her. Her green eyes softened as they turned back to Theresa, lingering on the edge of her bodice with a hint of disapproval. But whatever reprimand she'd been stewing went unserved.
"I have something for you," Martha motioned her back down the hall.
Tucked under the eaves, the bedroom the Royal Sorcerer shared with his wife was anything but grand. The wood furniture was rustic, carved and painted in the folk styles of Chipping Market. It matched the rest of the house, which was just as unassuming. But the Herbalist stopped at her dressing table, opening a box that Theresa recognized immediately. And her insides stilled as her foster mother drew out a gold braid dripping with emeralds. There were matching earrings.
These weren't just any piece of jewelry. At one time they belonged to Barimus' mother. They were talismans. Every sorcerer and sorceress wore them. Even Markl, who didn't know the first thing about jewelry.
"He and I both want you to have these."
"B-but… I'm not a Magi!"
"Never stopped me from wearing Barimus' necklace." Martha held them out with a brittle smile that made her eyes glisten with tears, "You are our daughter. They are for you."
Theresa took them with shaking hands, fasting them behind her neck. A fey prickle dance across her bare skin as the cool metal warmed slowly, seeming to fade away, as though it was becoming part of her. Martha nearly knocked her over as she hugged her, squeezing her so tight she squeaked. But just as suddenly as the affection came, she drew back, spinning her around and giving her a shove towards the door.
"Go. He's waiting."
Theresa came up short on the threshold.
He?
Flouncing out onto the landing, mostly because it was impossible not to flounce dressed as she was, Theresa blinked, finding Markl at the foot of the stairs. The amethysts talismans at his ears glinted in the gas lights. His hair was actually brushed back so you could see them. There was no mud on his boots. And the rich doublet of green velvet glowed like a leaf struck by the sun. The sleeves split from elbow to wrist, reveal a lining of warm amber brown to match his eyes. Although because of his colors he looked like a well dressed tree. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him dressed up. But it happened so rarely it was still a little unnerving.
The feeling must have been mutual.
Because he went redder in the face than she'd ever seen him as she came down the stairs. The poor thing looked like a freshly steamed lobster. And he shrank from the hem of her skirt as though he was afraid it was on fire.
"You…" He stammered, "You look like a g-girl."
Theresa snorted. It was such a Markl thing to say.
From where she was peering around the kitchen threshold, Lettie slapped a hand to her forehead. Turning away, she produced a mirror from thin air so she could check her face. And the Cesari Maids clambered to fill her absence, snooping just as notoriously as their mistress.
"What're you doing here?" She queried in distraction, because she caught a flash of green at the top of the stairs before it withdrew hastily.
"Um… Escorting you t-to the ball?"
It was a question. Not an answer. And he fidgeted, awkwardly pulling at one of his earrings before offering her his elbow. She took it with a sinking feeling. Because this was very obviously a Hatter Sister set-up. And she spared a glance at the living room just in case a flash of blue could be found.
"D-do you need, ah…" And his chin jerked up, color deepening as she struggled to look at anything but her chest, "A jacket or something?"
"Nah. It's always too warm at these things anyway."
"K-kay…"
Markl turned the dial to green, opening the door on Martha's office. Without another word they slipped through out into the hallways of the Healer's Wing. Theresa despaired as she saw a fleet of harried greenies go clambering by with mops and buckets. But they were out into the solarium, cutting through the gardens on a short cut. And although the sky beyond the glass was dark, in the distance the low snowy clouds reflected blazing oranges of the funeral pyre.
And the thoughts came creeping.
Just as Markl suddenly came to a stop.
"Common!" She tugged, "We're late!"
"They'll do fine without us." He murmured with gentle determination.
His hand was clammy as it dropped to hers. And her objection dried up as he pulled her under the leaning shelter of a nodding willow. Markl had to stoop to keep from tangling his well brushed head in the branches. And he stood pigeon toed among the tree roots.
"Barimus is choosing Nalir." He blurted all of a sudden.
And she blinked, hastily trying to act surprised, "W-what?"
"Nalir will be Royal Sorcerer and Akarshan will grow up to be the Wallmaker." Marl was talking more and more quickly, growing increasingly excited, "Do you know what that means? Apple orchards and honey bees!"
"S-slow down!" Theresa frowned, "You're not making sense."
"I know! I'm no good at this!" Suddenly he was breaking a sweat, staring at his boots, although he kept her hand, staring at her in utter amazement. "Dunno know what it is about you. All the words get tangled up inside and they don't come out whenever you're around. I though I was being clear. But I wasn't. I wish there was an easier way for me to make this clearer. This was all I could think of."
Understanding didn't dawn on her until he got down on one knee.
Still holding her hand.
And there was a ring in his fingers.
A fat emerald to match the ones at her throat.
Wordlessly, he offered it to her.
She stared.
It matched the ones at her throat and ears.
Oh shit… Shit, shit, shit, shit!
Not now.
Gods, please not now!
Not with what was on the TellSlip.
Unconsciously a hand stole to her stomach.
And she wasn't ready for this yet.
None of this.
"Oh… D-don't cry! Please don't cry!" He was patting her shoulder clumsily, "Lettie said you might cry." Now he was patting at his doublet, "She gave me a hankie and everything just in case."
"I'm not gonna cry…" She breathed, still staring at the ring. "I… I don't know what to say…"
Black bricks, she felt faint! Stupid, stupid corset!
"Yes?" A goofy grin cracked his face, hopeful and endearing as he held out the ring. For once the look in his eyes was anything but immature.
Suddenly she understood what he said about apple orchards and bees.
And her heart swelled.
Breaking in two.
Two pieces. Two possibilities. Two choices.
But she couldn't decide.
"C-can… Can I think about this?"
If her heart wasn't already broken the look on his face would have shattered it into pieces. Too quickly the hurt dissolved behind a stubborn frown of confusion.
"S-sure… But you should probably hold onto this." He pressed the ring into her palm, closing her gloved fingers around, as a sheepish smile pulled at his lips, "Otherwise I'll probably lose it."
Oh, you sly, sly bastard!
Because she didn't have anywhere to put it beside her finger. And she wasn't about to hike up her petticoats to stuff it in her bloomer pocket. But she reconsidered. Because that kind of cunning wasn't part of Markl's character. One of the Aunts must have told him to make her keep the ring. Just in case. Theresa tried not to grimace as she tried to put it on the wrong hand. It wouldn't fit any of the fingers. Not even after she stripped off her glove.
Although it did fit one finger.
And it was hard not to miss his secret smile as he stood.
"Did you magic this ring?" She scowled at the dirt and dried leaves on his knees, resisting the urge to lean down and dust them off.
"No." He lied as the smile turned to a smirk.
Although it disappeared as he leaned in all of a sudden, hair falling into his warm amber eyes. She froze as he kissed her on the lips. Gently. Sweetly. Not nearly as bad as before. No Heen slobbering. He'd just shaved. Smelling very, very faintly of hyacinth. And a curl of smoke started up from the ember in his half of her heart.
"Common…" He had her by the hand, striding on long steps as he pulled her free of the cocooning willow branches. "Now we really are late."
Theresa almost lost her shoes several times as she struggled to keep up with him. Finally decorations started showing up in the trees. Gigantic orbs and twists of colorful blown glass. And in the distance she could hear the music and the muffled roar of hundreds of voices. Hauling Markl to a stop, she finally did dust off his knees and yank him down by the shirt so she could smooth his hair.
"I hate these things," He muttered petulantly. "Dunno how Nalir stands them. And he goes to practically ever one."
A lick of anger started up in her gut as she realized Markl didn't really know much about his apprentice brother. All the same, she took his arm again, starting them off at a more sedate pace.
"This party isn't for you Markl." She scolded, "It's for everyone else. So smile and at least try to act like you're having fun."
"Oh…" He frowned, "Didn't think about it that way."
Coming around a hedge of laurel festooned with tinsel, they both came up short as the Grand Atrium opened before them. The gilded veins of the enormous glass ceiling dripped with magicked icicles as illusory snow floated down from a spinning ice crystal chandelier. Holly and ivy twined with red and gold ribbon around every banister, pillar, bulwark and balustrade. It decorated the banquet tables and the serving platters from which the uniformed servant offered rare delectable and spindly fluted drinks. It even found purchase on some of the guests who wreathed their heads in traditional style. Especially the Red Guard, who were flying at full sail per the holiday tradition. Scattered throughout the room, they guard wore sprigs of holly and ivy pinned to their uniforms, chatting and rubbing elbows with the guests.
An orchestra pitted itself at the foot of the Royal scaffold, playing a merry waltz for the whirling dancers that spun beneath the fall of false ice. Beyond them sat King Ferdinand, King Justin, and King Walden. All sat at the same height in identical gilded thrones and over their heads hung the arms of each of their countries.
Theresa frowned at the two empty thrones beside King Ferdinand's.
No flags hung over the golden seats.
Although her attention was snatched away as the bristle bearded monarch of Ingary let out a boisterous laugh, pausing from talking pink into the cheeks of King Justin's new bride, a blonde Tyranese princess who's name Theresa couldn't recall. Justin and Walden's wife Shayla listened to Ferdinand's anecdote with wide knowing grins. But the Boy King of Tyrn leaned with earnest interest towards Howl, who had pulled up a chair from the sidelines. From the look of his hands, the Magi was deep into a discussion of some magic. Standing in his shadow scanning the audience stood Barimus. There was a calm smile on the Royal Wizard's face, although worry in his brown eyes was plain for her to see. Hastily Theresa tossed her gaze over the party-goers. Looking for a blot of black. Finding him missing. He should have only be out for an hour or two.
Half her heart twisted with worry.
But the other half remained hooked by the elbow to Markl.
A flash of pink followed by blue and green carried Theresa's eyes to the dessert table. There they were. All three of the Hatter sisters. And they avoided looking. Lettie slapped Akarshan's hand as he tried to stick his finger in the pale blue icing of the monstrous cake. They may have been acting oblivious, but many of the guests were gawking openly at whose arm she'd entered on. The Herbalist's apprentice couldn't help but despair. Between the visiting dignitaries and the Cesari maids, gossip would be all over the Tri-Countries by morning. Theresa picked out a tall stand of red in the milling sea of faces and colors. Still decked out in red and festooned with the garlands of the season thanks to the girls at his elbows, Ryden looked right at them from across the room. And the easy smile on his handsome face fell to a frown.
Theresa cringed as Markl waved.
And shame burned her cheeks as confusion darkened their friend's eyes.
Although the freckle-faced woman jumped as a spark of blue arched over the ceiling, falling, only to collect up into a spitting ball of red flame just before them. Several near by guests gasped and shrank from the fire spirit. She still had trouble sometimes.
"Hey Theresa." Calcifer never paused from glaring at Markl. "You're late! They're gonna be here any moment!"
The Wallmaker's son blanched, "They're really coming!?"
"Of course they're coming!" He flared up sooty red, emitting a belch of black smoke, "What'd you think Howl an' Barimus're doin' up there on stage?"
"Can she really come through?"
"Nox seems to thinks so, but then again, it's Nox." The flame spirit rolled his eyes, although he touched with a sober teal as he continued. "She could do it by herself. She doesn't need the help. And I think'll do this lot a service to see her. They need to get over they're fear of each other. Especially us."
Us. By which he meant daemons.
Although Calcifer was frowning at the two obvious camps in the ballroom: Country folk, and Magi. Neither appeared to be mixing well.
"Who's coming?" Theresa pulled on Markl's arm, still confused.
"Dierdrie." He whispered beneath his breath.
And Theresa blinked.
That was like saying a Goddess was coming to diner. Because that's pretty much what she'd become. Back during the Daemon War the Wallmaker's family had paid a heavy price to save them all. Dierdrie hadn't just fixed the broken Wall. She'd became the Wall. And slowly but surely she was transforming it: one sooty brick at a time. Absorbing the hate. Scrubbing it clean with love and goodness. Turning the Dull Wall white and pure. And in just six years the green place was spreading to the other side now. Pushing back the scorched planes. Healing the scar of suffering that nearly undid the two worlds eons ago in the Mage Wars.
Theresa craned her neck as Howl stiffened, his sapphire eyes going distant. With a suave bow, he disentangled himself from Walden, who was still fascinated by magic of all kinds. And the Wallmaker turned a meaningful glance towards his brother. Barimus nodded, casting the same glance at Captain Peoter, who threw a signal at the Conductor of the orchestra while the Royal Sorcerer crossed the stage behind the chairs, leaning in to whisper something into Ferdinand's ear. He was wearing a crown of holly and ivy that sparkled like rubies and emeralds. Although he paled for a moment, frowning beneath the bristles of his moustache, smoothing his stunning crimson gold robes.
The waltz finished with a flourish and the whirling dancers drew back as King Ferdinand stood, holding up his gloved hands. Over the years Ingary's only monarch had gone gray, although there were threads of brown still in his beard and moustache. But his age was beginning to show in the thinning of his powerful shoulders and the deeply etched lines that gathered in the corner of his eyes. They cut deep canyons through his face each time he smiled or scowled. His brown eyes remained fierce and vigilant, but it mattered little to the advance of time. Because King Ferdinand had never married. Never sired an heir. And worried twitters were beginning to surface with regard to the succession of the Ingarian Monarchy.
Although the murmurs of this crowd silenced as the guests turned towards the stage, drawing back from a group of red guards who cordoned off a section of the marble dance floor, making room for the Gods knew what. Among them stood Seran, Ryden, and Captain Peoter. And the King addressed the audience in a booming voice, commanding their attention.
"Welcome! Welcome all! How wonderful to see the palace so full of delightful smiling faces from all over the land! Ingary welcomes you!" Genuine warmth went into his bright brown eyes as he swept a hand to the side, indicating the two empty chairs, "I have a special surprise tonight. We are about to welcome the Guests of Honor this evening."
Courtiers, Magi, and visitors all glanced around, taking stock of who was in attendance, trying to guess who the guests of honor could be. Great green growing things, were they in for a surprise!
"Never before have the Tri-Countries been so fortunate to share the company of such esteemed champions of the peace between us all. Without these People our world would not exist. So please do not be alarmed."
Worried glances went through the crowd at that statement.
"Black bloody bricks…" Calcifer let loose a nervous chittering pop, "Better brace yourselves!"
"Join me!" Ferdinand boomed again like a cannon blast. Theresa spared a glance at Barimus, who stood at his King's shoulder, wondering if the sorcerer was magicking the man's voice, "Join me in welcoming the Prince of Stars and the Lady of the Wall!"
On perfect cue the ground in the space ringed by the Red Guard suddenly trembled. To their credit the Magi did not flinch or so much as indicate anything was amiss. Not even as several cries loosed from the crowds as the marble stone heaved, shattering and splintering as if cut by an invisible force. A kick of fear went through Theresa as she instinctively shrank from the trembling ground. But Markl caught her against him, his arm tightening around her waist, keeping them in place as the rest of the crowd drew back. Until they were the only ones standing in front of the doorway.
It could be like this with Markl.
He was so steeped in magic that you couldn't help but be touched.
For a moment it seemed like they were the only ones left in the world.
"It's okay," Markl murmured, hugging her close. And his amber eyes went alight with anticipation, a joyful smile on his lips. "You know, I never get tired of this?"
"Just be glad those red-shirts are seasoned," Calcifer crackled, making her jump, because she'd forgotten he was hanging in the air between them, "Otherwise the crowd's wouldn't be behaving quite so nicely."
Ryden looked more than a little nervous.
Although Peoter and Seran stood with an ease that was catching.
All the same, the audience gasped in awe as a pointed archway lifted out of the ground, complete with a hinged door and latch. Made of the very polished stone floor they stood upon. It swung open with a gravely crunch, letting the strange silent wind of the beyond come creeping through. Sending shivers skittering up Theresa's spine. Because there wasn't anything but indigo twilight inside the doorway. She'd looked into the Beyond several times. Mostly at the Castle. But it never ceased to freak her out.
That didn't keep her from starting forward. Her gold skirts whispering in the wind that tickle her ankles. Peering into the gloom as something brightened in the distance.
Growing closer.
Closer.
With a strangled shriek she threw herself backwards, falling against Markl as stars burst from the doorway in a cymabline crash. Twelve of them! Melting into every hue of the rainbow. Chasing each other playfully. Leaving curling shimmering streamers of iridescent sparkles in their wake. The crowds cried aloud again, erupting into laugher, cheers, and explosive applause as they as they gyrated through a complex series of aerials and acrobatics.
"Well… That wasn't part of the plan!" Calcifer spit toothily as he eyed the whirling stars circling the chandelier overhead.
All at once the stars slowed, joining their spindly hands as they began to sing, filling the dome with splinters of argent light and their swelling crystalline voices. Theresa's neck ached as she stared overhead and she didn't care in the slightest. She'd seen some things in her life time. But nothing compared to this.
"What are they saying?" She breathed in amazement.
"Star-babble nonsense." The living flame crackled irritably, coming up short as his eyes went back to the still open doorway, "Oh… Here they come."
Suddenly there were people in the doorway. So tall they seemed to fill it to the very point. Theresa was probably one of the few people in the room who already knew them. There was no way to forget Nox. The Prince of Stars moved with slow liquid grace. As he came over the threshold into the mortal world the Beyond seemed to trailing behind him, as if loath to be left behind. But it was just his indigo cloak. And he turned aside, bowing as someone else filled the doorway.
Dierdrie hesitated on the threshold, reaching out a pale hand.
Nox took it, guiding her through.
Absolute silence struck the room as the Lady of the Wall emerged.
She wore a long dress of simple white. And it fell like a mist to her bare feet. But there was nothing simple about her. Because she was absolutely numinous in the falling sparkles. Starlight seemed to emanate from beneath her translucent skin, flickering off her long argent hair which fell to the floor and longer, dragging behind her like a train. The same light shone in her dazzlingly eerie sapphire eyes.
For a moment time seemed to still as Dierdrie looked right at Theresa.
Looked through her was more like it.
Because it felt like that strange wind had blown right through her soul.
And a line formed between her silver brows as something passed through her eyes. What it was Theresa couldn't tell. But something in her gut told her it wasn't good.
"Sister!" Akarshan crowed ecstatically.
The little wizard pushed his way through the crowds, sprinting between Seran and Peoter as he reached for his twin. Dierdrie knelt with open arms, because she was much taller, much older than her twin. All the same, they hugged each other tightly.
And the stars overhead laughed happily as they fell like snowflakes. Lifting up into human forms, becoming pale silver headed children, barefoot and dressed in white. Nox and the Star Children started as the doorway crashed over backwards, fitting back into the fractured stone. Milling about in the place of its passing, they inspected the floor as though they'd never seen one before. Straightening, scratching his head in puzzlement, Nox laughed. The Star Children stared at him for a moment, and then laughed as well. But Shan wasn't laughing as he pulled away from Dierdrie, frowning at the fractured floor, lifting disapproving eyes to the Prince of Stars.
"You broke it. Now how are we s'pposed to dance?"
"Nothing broken that can't be fixed," Howl announced cheerfully as he and Sophie joined them on the floor.
The Wallmaker clapped his hands together, parting them in a smoothing motion. And the cracks melted together like ice filling a hole. Leaving the marble whole and unblemished. Turning, Nox waved at the conductor of the orchestra, who was half hiding behind his music stand. It too him a moment to pull himself and the other musicians back to attention. And they started up a lively waltz, breaking the silence, filling it with music.
With a bow, Nox turned to Sophie, reaching for her hand. Going pink in the cheeks the silver sorceress accepted as Howl turned to his daughter, bowing to match the Prince of Stars before whisking her off. And the Star Children scattered into the crowds, taking hold of any hands that could be caught. Drawing Magi, Country folk, and Courtier alike onto the dance floor as. One even clambered up onto the stage, catching up King Ferdinand's hand, insistently pulling him down the stairs to the floor. And the mustached monarch let loose another booming laugh as he happily followed. Joined shortly by Justin, Walden, and their wives.
Markl and Theresa stepped back from the whirling partners as more and more people joined in the dance.
But they didn't.
Markl didn't dance. He had absolutely no rhythm. He'd nearly pulverized her feet one time at a summer fair when she'd insisted he at least try. She'd never do that again. Although that didn't do anything to stamp out the longing that started up in her chest, following them compelling rhythm of the music. All too soon she was tapping her toe in time. Swaying ever so slightly.
Theresa loved to dance.
But she stilled.
Crossed her arms with a resigned sigh, because no one would ask her to dance as long as she was standing next to Markl.
"Maybe Nalir will dance with you?" Markl offered absently.
"Nalir!?" Theresa went stock still, "Where?"
"Right there." He pointed, "Wow… Look at him go!"
It took Theresa a second to see him. Because for the first time she could recall he wasn't wearing black. Nor was he drowning in his usual floor length robes, looking like a monk in cassock! And his black eye was somehow gone. Magic probably. But it didn't matter.
Because Nalir was wearing the most amazing shade of burgundy red.
And a fire ignited the other half of her heart.
Nalir's long hair was drawn back into a tight plait, showing off his high forehead and handsome features. The ruby talismans at his ears glinted in the light, highlighting the healthy color in his cheeks. For once he didn't look like he was about to keel over. And his tunic was hip length, revealing he was all leg beneath his usual garb. The doublet was well tailored, fashionably slashed at the shoulder and chest to reveal his sun colored silk undershirt.
He had a dancer's frame and Gods he could dance!
So could his mother.
Merra positively floated in his arms. The hem of her plain black dress flared and whirled as the other dancers drew back. Making way to watch and marvel. She must have been the one to teach him. There was no other way to describe the instinctive unity of their beautiful movements. Although they were smiling, they looked anything but happy. There was something forced in the way they held one another. The way they seemed to battle one another for control. And her heart sank. Because as she watched them all the trouble's she'd forgotten for a moment came rushing back.
Unconsciously her hand went to her stomach.
And a stab of panic stole her breath.
"Hey… Hey!" Theresa jumped as Calcifer went zipping across the room, calling the Wallmaker's son after him, "Markl! Markl, help me!"
"N-no! Don't do that!" He dissolved from beside her, leaving her in a lurch as he pushed his way through the spectators, going after a Star Child who was waltzing a startled country-woman right off the floor.
Leaving her along on a quiet edge of the party.
She saw Barimus and Martha in the crowd. Her mistress was absolutely red in the face. Matching her husband's jacket. But Barimus was beaming. Good. The Herbalist needed a little fun for a change. Even Akarshan was getting in on the waltz. He had one of the Star Children by the hands. And from the look of his lips he was counting out loud. Behind them came Lettie and Alex. Funny that. The blonde Hatter was leading. And Theresa craned her neck. Trying to find Ryden, Peoter, or Seran. Although maybe not Ryden. He and Markl had done enough damage to her feet. But all were already spoken for. Even the Stone Man, who was lurching about in the arms of a pretty witch who didn't seem to mind in the slightest.
Frowning, she shrank back into the quiet shadows.
Feeling completely out of place.
Because everyone seemed to be dancing except for her.
"Well…" No mistaking that bitchy drawl, "Look who's all cleaned up."
Theresa hands tightened into fists as Hedera circled her from behind, looking her up and down with unveiled contempt. As usual, the witch was wearing fuchsia, positively bulging at the top. Magic was probably the only thing keeping her from popping out.
"Pretty dress, Twiggy. But you still got leaves in your hair."
Theresa flushed as she found a dried willow leaf stuck in a curl.
"You can wrap a mud-pie in silk. But it's still a mud-pie in spite of all its petticoats and jewels."
Hedera laughed maliciously, blocking her way as she tried to push by, tried to escape her taunting. Tears were burning her eyes. Because in a way she was right.
"Why, Hedera." The blond started bolt upright as Nalir made his way through the parting crowds, "Whatever are you doing over here?"
"Hello, Skinny-Nally." She smiled like acid. "Nice to see you breathing."
Without batting an eye the Mardan turned and pointed towards the cake, "As I was saying, the hors d'oeuvre are that way."
"Cripple!" She hissed beneath her breath.
"Pig." He smiled a slow frosty smile, his green eyes glittering dangerously, "I can play this game all day, Hedera."
"Why're you defending her, all a sudden?" Her round face went pinched with angry confusion, "You used to hate her guts when we were younger."
"Hate is a useless emotion, Hedera." His emerald eyes went piercingly as his thin lips drew into a grim line. And she took a step back. Genuine fear went through her pale blue eyes at the quiet intensity of his reply. "You'll find out soon enough… Perhaps you already have. Hence you're here. Alone. With nothing but hate to keep yourself company. Horrible, isn't it? Being alone in a sea of people? Being so desperate for any kind of attention that you resort to tormenting others simply to be noticed."
Going pale and wide-eyed with misery, Hedera turned and fled.
Theresa watched the pink of her skirts dissolve. Finding herself trembling with outrage, struggling for word. Hedera was a bitch. But from the look on the blonde's face she could tell Nalir had just cut her to the quick.
"T-that was cruel! That was… was unnecessary!"
"Was it?" He shot back contrarily, still looking after the witch, emanating cold, "It was the truth. And she needed to hear it."
"Did she!?" Theresa spat, glaring as he turned to her.
And she came up short. Because there was nothing cold in his eyes. If anything he looked more than contrite, his sadness tempered by sympathy.
"Sometimes we need a mirror held up to our faces before we can see what we've truly become."
She had a feeling he wasn't just talking about Hedera anymore. And all the anger drained out of her in an instant. Leaving her empty and confused.
"Why aren't you dancing?" She waved vaguely at the floor.
Nalir crossed his arms, turning his back to the dancers as he scowled at the floor, "Dancing with my mother is like playing chess. And I'd rather not play games right now."
Although his eyes lifted somewhat shyly, making their way to her face as he slowly drank in the rest of her. And her knees went week as the look crept into his jade eyes.
"You're beautiful." He whispered earnestly, using that lost tone he only used for her. "You look like a sunflower… No. You are the sun. Flowers should look to you."
She couldn't remember the last time someone called her beautiful, let alone compared her to anything. And blood rushed into her cheeks as she dropped her eyes. Because her heart opened and poured all kinds of things into the churning mess that was circuiting inside her gut. Making her sick to her stomach with fear. He must have seen it. The worry. The fear.
Markl would have missed it.
Damnnit… Nalir was way too sharp sometimes.
And he held out one of his hands almost timidly,
"May… May we pretend like nothing's wrong? Just for this moment. Just for this night. Because I'm going to ask you to dance. Please say yes."
She didn't say yes.
But she did take his hand.
Wordlessly he turned, leading her out onto the edge of the dance floor. It was like standing on the street corners in Kingsbury while perambulator after perambulator steamed by in a honking churning mess. She couldn't fathom how they could possibly make their way into the ordered chaos. But here they paused. He put her other hand on the smooth velvet of his shoulder, stepping close as his other hand went to the curve of her waist. She could feel the heat of his palm through the fabric. And her chest was close enough to his that the quick tempo of his heart thrilled against hers.
"Do you know how this works?" He murmured slyly, making a spike of lust go spinning through her insides.
"Yeah," She lifted her chin challengingly, "I do."
Without another word he whirled them off into the milling press of bodies. And she panicked, loosing track of the music. But he had her, skillfully leading her through the steps until she regained her footing, figuratively and physically.
"Relax," He soothed, squeezing her hand, "You'll break my fingers."
"S-sorry," Theresa murmured as she eased her grip. Her face was absolutely burning. Because the other dancers were looking at them. So were some of the people on the sidelines.
"A-are there leaves in my hair!?" She hushed in mortification.
"No." His lips twitched, "I assure you there are no leaves in your hair. Why do you ask?"
"Because people are staring!"
"Good. Let them look." Gods, the look was back. His eyes were positively burning with it. "Let them see how beautiful you are. Let them see how smart and graceful you are. That's why they're looking. Smile, Theresa. Let them see."
Her feet didn't feel like they were on the ground anymore. And Nalir stood straighter, somehow managing to move with more grace that before, melting them though the waltz until everything blurred. Until together, they became the music. Nalir was smiling now. Absolutely beaming. Reminding her of Barimus. She'd never seen him so alive. Although the smile slowly turned to a smirk.
"What?"
"You drugged me."
She made a moue.
"Drugged's such an ugly word. I prefer clandestine therapy."
He snorted, and the smile was back, "I'll have to remember that one."
She lifted her chin, looking at his face. And his smile faltered as he noticed her scrutiny, "I like your hair back. Makes you look less like a girl."
He tried to frown and failed, "This from the woman who wears pants."
"I thought you liked pants?"
"I do." A hint of red touched his cheeks. "Under the right circumstances."
"Letch." She grinned.
"Oh, did you want Ryden?" He quipped playfully, steering her aside as he looked into the distance, "I think I see him!"
"No!" She squealed. "He'll flatten my feet!"
And Nalir laughed outright. Free and unhindered as he whirled her across the floor. Just the sound of it sent her heart thrilling high in her chest. She went dizzy as it overwhelmed her, making her press closer against him and not just for stability. It wasn't a good idea. Not with so many people looking. But Nalir didn't stop her. Didn't draw back. Instead he leaned his head against hers.
But only for an instant.
She felt the moment when he noticed the ring beneath her glove.
Twitching it back and forth on her fingers.
"What's this?"
Theresa went stock still on the dance floor, making him skip on one foot to keep from crashing into her. But she was bumped from behind by another pair of dancers. And then another.
Snatching up her skirts, Theresa turned away.
And ran.