Firstly, a belated thank-you to everyone who has reviewed my story. I'm glad you're enjoying it - I know I am, I've been walking around for the past week or so with a big silly grin on my face! It's also interesting to see what you hope will happen. Whilst I write as my Muse moves me and am not planning to give you exactly what you ask for (where would be the fun - or the power trip - in that?), I can promise you that I have plenty more ideas lined up and even a few surprises, I hope. Thanks again - nariya.
Secondly, I'm bored with pasting the disclaimer into every chapter - see previous chapters for details.
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'I fell so stupid about Allen,' Marlene said, as soon as the maid left the room.
She and Carenza were sitting in the drawing room of the villa the duke had built for his beloved wife. Millerna was in the nursery with Prince Chid and his nanny, Eries had retired to her room with a migraine, and the duke had returned to the palace on business, so the two of them had a brief period of privacy over afternoon tea.
'I thought I loved him, I really did,' Marlene went on. 'But I think looking back that I was just so scared about getting married, I was looking for a distraction - and Allen was it.'
'It's understandable,' Carenza replied, stirring her tea. 'You were young and impressionable-'
'In other words an idiot! You don't have to tell me. To think that I preferred a callow boy over...' She smiled fondly. 'He knows, you know.'
'Allen? About the baby?'
'Oh no. I meant that my husband knows, that Allen is the father. And do you know what? He accepts it. He accepts my son - my bastard - as his own.' Tears welled in Marlene's eyes. 'I don't deserve a man like that.'
Realisation dawned. 'That's why you love him.'
'Yes,' she whispered. 'He is the kindest, most generous man I have ever met. People think of him as cold and stern, but they do not see him as I do, as a loving father and husband.' She smiled coyly over the rim of her teacup. 'And so much better at lovemaking than Allen, too.'
'Marlene!'
'Well, it's true. Allen was just a boy, and I was little better - we had no idea what we were doing. In my haste to lose my virginity I didn't mind that he was clumsy but, well, it can't compare with being with a man who knows how to please a woman.' She blushed. 'I probably shouldn't be telling you all this, but I wanted you to understand, to know that I am truly happy in my marriage.'
'I'm so glad for you, Marlene.'
'You know, you don't look so happy yourself, now that I come to think of it. Is everything all right?'
'I'm fine, really,' Carenza said, taking a sip of tea. 'Just the change of climate, I expect.'
'Freid is rather humid this time of year,' Marlene agreed. 'I'm still not used to it myself.'
Carenza nodded. She felt guilty about not confiding in Marlene, but she suspected her friend would tell her not to worry about the arranged marriage, given that her own had worked out so well. Somehow Carenza doubted that she would have similarly good fortune.
Dryden's ship, the Parunachian, landed outside Godashim on the eleventh moon of Red, right on schedule. Carenza had been watching for it all morning, and was waiting on the steps of the palace when the sedan chair arrived. The gauzy curtains parted and Dryden climbed out, followed by a young man Carenza had never seen before. The stranger wore the tight breeches and open-necked shirt popular with the young men of Asturia, and his light brown curly hair was cut in a jaw-length bob.
'Sis!' Dryden bounded up the steps, hugged her and planted a swift kiss on each cheek, then stepped back. 'Sister, I would like to introduce Alessandro di Luca, a dear friend of mine and the greatest living painter in all Gaea. Sandro, this is my sister, Carenza Fassa.'
Alessandro bowed elaborately. He was not quite handsome, with a heavy jaw and one eye ever so slightly lower than the other, but he had an air of quiet intensity that made him more attractive than looks ever could.
'It is a pleasure to meet you, signorina. Your brother has told me much about you, but neglected to say how beautiful you are.' He bent to kiss her hand.
Carenza blushed. 'You are too kind, sir.'
'Sandro, you tell every woman you meet that she is beautiful,' Dryden complained.
He shrugged.
'I am an artist; I see beauty in everything.'
'Then your compliments are meaningless,' Carenza said, feeling annoyed with herself for falling for his flattery.
'Oh no!' the artist cried. 'I meant every word. Please forgive me, signorina, I intended no offence.'
Dryden patted him on the shoulder.
'It's all right, Sandro, you can't help it if the rest of the world doesn't see things the way you do.'
Dryden wandered off, staring up at the carvings on the front of the palace, oblivious to the adoring look on Alessandro's face. Carenza thought dryly that the young artist saw certain things very differently to most men.
Out of deference to his wife's obvious delight in having familiar faces around her, Duke Freid pressed Dryden and his companion to stay to dinner. They could hardly refuse, and though Carenza chafed at the delay she knew it was best not to be seen to be in a hurry to leave.
Dinner was served at the villa in the Asturian style, on a long table laid with white linen and bone china, but the food was the finest local cuisine: tiny freshwater shellfish fritters with a fiery dipping sauce, vegetables cut into delicate shapes and cooked with ginger and lemongrass, and heaps of fragrant rice. Dessert was a fabulous arrangement of sliced fresh fruit and edible flowers, and instead of wine they were served pot after pot of scented tea, until they were all high on caffeine and chattering nineteen to the dozen.
Carenza was sitting opposite her brother, and couldn't help noticing how often his eyes strayed towards Millerna. She said as much to Alessandro, who had been seated to her right. The artist looked mournful.
'Your father is talking of their being betrothed,' he explained.
'What!'
Eries raised an eyebrow, and Carenza pretended to have choked on a piece of honeyfruit. After a few minutes she leant towards Alessandro and hissed. 'But she's only eleven.'
'It is only a gentleman's agreement between your father and the king, as I understand it.' he replied.
'You obviously don't know my father,' she said. Emboldened by Alessandro's charm and an excess of jasmine tea she added, 'There's not many people who would speak the words 'gentleman' and 'Meiden Fassa' in the same sentence.'
'I have not had the pleasure of meeting him, it is true.'
'Believe me, you don't want to. And if King Aston is at all favourable towards the arrangement, it's as good as sealed.'
Further discussion was prevented by Princess Eries, who fixed Alessandro with a polite smile and asked what he was painting at the moment.
'It is a portrait of my patron, Lord Dryden. He has beautiful bones, very lovely to draw,' the artist said without any trace of self-consciousness, 'but he will fidget, so it is taking rather a long time.'
'Do you hear that, brother? You will have to learn to sit still, or poor Alessandro here will never finish your portrait.'
Dryden waved a fruit fork at her.
'You should try sitting still with a lap full of wheatsheaf. I swear there are harvest mice in there.'
'Why do you have a wheatsheaf-?'
'I am painting him as the god of the harvest,' said Alessandro, 'the golden shades of autumn sunlight and ripening fruit go so well with your brother's skin tones, don't you think?'
Carenza couldn't help it; she burst into giggles. Dryden looked at her over the top of his glasses.
'What's so funny?' he asked.
'You...the god...of the harvest-' she spluttered. 'You've never been near a farm in your life.'
'Well, personally I think I would make a better god of learning, but Sandro here doesn't think books are sensual enough.'
An uncomfortable image was forming in Carenza's mind; she had seen a fair few classical paintings around the palace in Asturia.
'You do have some clothes on in this portrait, I hope,' she said, giving him an old-fashioned look.
Dryden gestured broadly.
'Well, draperies, certainly. I wouldn't say they were clothes as such.'
The duke coughed.
'I think that's enough of that kind of talk in front of the young ladies, my friends. Perhaps if they would like to withdraw, I can show Maestro Alessandro some books from my personal collection that might change his mind.'
Eries rose from her seat and beckoned to Millerna.
'It is getting late, dear,' she said.
Millerna pouted, but allowed herself to be led away. Carenza lagged behind Marlene, hoping to overhear something of interest, but the duke steadfastly discussed politics with Dryden until the ladies were well out of earshot. She was happy for Marlene, but she could not help but feel that she would not be content with such a stuffy fellow as the duke. The man she married would have to have a little more respect for women's minds, not just their hearts and bodies.