Blooms and Mirrors
by Lara
February
2006
Do not archive, translate or otherwise use this fic without permission. You are welcome to link to this page.
This is an amateur effort and not intended to infringe on the rights of C.S. Friedman. No monetary profit is being made.
Beta read by Alice - thanks!
It wasn't her day. She'd had a splitting headache since morning, she'd taken a fall during her ride when her unhorse had stumbled, her assigned escort for the evening had fallen sick and left her to herself, and for some reason her dress for the night had suddenly turned out to be too loose.
Not a good day. And by the looks of it, the evening was not likely to be any better.
Courtly banquets and dances were not among Almea's preferred activities at all. A waste of time, a waste of money, and she wished that life at court wouldn't require her to be present for at least some events. But she knew that she could hardly refuse to show herself tonight; victory celebrations were not something where excuses were easily accepted. King Gannon would want to see her there, as would his wife. She still wasn't sure why the queen had taken her under her wing, but the older woman had been kind to her and Almea didn't want to be a disappointment. So she'd simply have to sit through the evening - without an escort, there would not be much dancing unless someone took pity on her - and then retire as quickly as she could.
At least her maid had solved the dress problem with some well-hidden stitching - it wasn't ideal, but it was the best that could be achieved in such a short time. Finding an alternative that didn't clash with her hair had turned out to be impossible. This one worked reasonably well; flowing silk, and the dark green complimented her, even though it made her look a bit pale. But the gold trimmings eased that effect, and overall it was one of the better outfits she had managed to acquire.
There was a knock at the door just as she slid the central hairpin into place and reached for a smaller pin to fix it. Uncomfortable things, those, but she didn't have the ornaments she'd need if she wanted to leave her hair flowing freely. Another improvisation, and one she had to manage by herself because her sister had needed the maid's assistance.
"Come in, please," she called out, studying herself critically in the mirror for a moment before rising to greet her escort. Probably one of the king's squires, or maybe another cousin of the queen. Someone boring, who would be polite but nothing else. Or even worse, trying to be charming, which would require her to aim for flirting and witty too.
The door opened and she turned. A fraction too quickly, because the finely crafted ornamental pin, not yet fixed, slid free and landed on the floor with a jarring clatter.
"Allow me…" Her escort was already kneeling to retrieve it, which left her trying to keep her careful twists and twirls in place. She could feel the individual strands starting to slip and shift beneath her hands already. Ruined, most likely. She'd have to call back the maid, see whether they could salvage anything of this… Carefully keeping her head bowed so she wouldn't do any more damage, she stared at the floor and fought the tears of frustration that threatened to rise.
"Here, Lady." The pin was held out to her and she took it. "I am afraid it is broken."
She bit her tongue. She wouldn't cry. Wouldn't. Not over a broken pin.
"Is there a problem?" a second voice inquired from the direction of the door.
Her escort explained the situation, and there seemed to be a bit of a discussion while the two men searched for a solution. Almea wasn't really paying attention; she was too focused on picturing the back of her head and hunting for more pins to at least maintain the current status.
A hand lightly touched her arm. "I believe you will have to start anew," she was told.
She took a deep breath, quenched the urge to scream. It had to be expected. This was just that kind of day.
Amidst all the frustration, it took her a moment to identify the new voice. It was startling enough to make her let go of her hair so she could look up.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, forgetting her little concerns for the moment. "I thought you were still with the army! The queen said so."
Gerald Tarrant gave her a little smile. "King Gannon decided that I would be of better service here, to give everybody someone else to celebrate and cheer over," he said wryly, then bent to formally kiss her hand. "And since I heard that your escort for tonight has abandoned you, I thought I would offer my services. If you do not mind, of course."
"It would be my pleasure." The smile she managed in return was a bit shaky, surprise and pleasure and relief all mingled together. "I am glad that you are back. And that you are well."
She had tried not to worry too much during the last month. But she knew what war was like, and she knew that there were no guarantees that he would return safe and unharmed. It hadn't been like that the last time, and he hadn't been able to promise her that it would not happen again. She'd been scared of the possibility that he would be hurt again, and seeing him well now, smiling at her, was all she needed to forget the day's frustrations. She had missed his presence here, and knowing that he was back made the evening look brighter already.
"I knew you would worry," he said quietly. "And I wanted to be certain that you knew there was no need for it."
They looked at each other for a moment. Then Gerald took the pin she was still holding, cool fingers brushing against her own. Not quite as smooth as before. She could feel the roughness of fighting.
"Let's see what we can do about this," he suggested. "If you still wish to attend the banquet, that is. You do not have to."
He was reading her mind again. Almea had never found out just how he did it, but it had ceased to startle her by now. He was so attentive whenever they spoke, so maybe he was simply reading her better than anyone else ever bothered to. She still wondered what made him enjoy her company, but it was something she was prepared to accept. Time spent with him was precious to her; she felt as though she could consider him a friend, and those were hard to find in these surroundings.
"I can hardly let you go there alone, can I?" she replied, just a bit of teasing in her voice. "We can be bored together," she added, remembering a past comment about how he could think of better things to do.
Gerald chuckled. "I would like that very much, my Lady."
They looked at the pin. Unusable, Almea decided. She'd have to find a new one somewhere.
"Do you have a replacement?" Gerald asked, obviously having come to the same conclusion as she had.
Almea shook her head. "Only in silver, with a sapphire. I cannot wear that with this dress."
"A new dress, then?"
She shook her head again, feeling some of the earlier frustration creep back. "There are none. We tried that already."
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Earlier she hadn't wanted to attend and everything had been in place. Now she wanted to, and it was all going wrong. And to make matters worse, she thought she could feel her dress coming loose at the back again where they had tightened it with improvised stitches.
"I have seen some of the ladies with their hair loose," Gerald said. "Would that be an acceptable alternative?"
Almea sighed. "I would still need some kind of hair ornaments. And I do not have any that go with this dress."
She hated knowing that her possibilities were so limited. But there wasn't much she could do about it; she had not expected to stay at court for so long, and her wardrobe had not been extensive to start with. The last month had already been full of improvisations and borrowed dresses. She'd need to have her own made if she was going to stay for much longer, and she was not sure how she would afford that.
Gerald studied her, his expression thoughtful. She loved being the centre of his attention, even if it was over such a trivial issue. It made her feel so valued and honoured, especially since she knew that only a select few had ever managed to achieve this. So many vied for his recognition; that she would be offered it so easily was a heady thought.
"Can you wait for a bit?" he asked. "I may be able to do something about this."
She nodded. "Yes. But you don't have to. I am sure I can find a solution somehow."
He smiled again, and she couldn't help smiling back. "It would please me if you allowed it."
There was not much she could have said in reply to that - and he had certainly known that - so she simply nodded. A bow, then he was gone and she sank into the chair in front of her mirror again.
She should have told him about suitable colours, she realized. Men, in her experience, were hardly experts where aesthetics were concerned, even if they tried. Gerald had told her that he had no sisters, and so she doubted that he had had many opportunities to learn about these things. But he meant well, and whatever he had in mind for her, she would thank him and wear it. Because he was doing this for her, and because she knew it would make him smile at her again.
It took him longer to return than she had expected, and by the time he finally did, he looked strangely tired. Perhaps he just needed rest; if he had come straight from the army's main camp, the ride would have been exhausting. As she rose to meet him, Almea resolved to keep the evening as short as possible.
"Would these be useful?" he asked, offering a small box to her. Almea took it and looked inside, and then had to look again.
Flowers. Carefully crafted, in exactly the same shade of rich green as her dress, with petals tipped in gold just as her sleeves and seams. If it hadn't been for the colours, she would have thought that they were real.
"They are perfect," she whispered as she reached to touch one.
She froze when it felt like a real flower.
"How…"
When she looked up and into his eyes, she saw hope and fear at war there. The hope was easy to explain, but the fear confused her for a moment. Then she realized what he had to have done to create flowers like these. And what that implied about him.
A sorcerer, at the very least. There had been rumours about him because of his deep understanding of the fae, but nobody had been sure. She had never really considered it, since it wasn't something she had thought important. If he couldn't work the fae, then it was a useless speculation, and if he could… She had seen what that power could do. How dangerous it was. It got out of control so easily; there were the children whose nightmares materialized, and the men and women who abused the talent. They weren't killed anymore, but that was only a recent change. And she still heard stories of children being exposed when they behaved in suspicious ways.
"You made them," she said quietly.
Gerald hesitated for a long moment. Then he nodded, his face carefully blank now.
"For me."
He nodded again.
She looked down at the flowers in their little box. Then she looked at him.
"Thank you."
"They are suitable?"
"They are perfect." Reaching out, she lightly touched his hand. "Thank you," she said again.
He relaxed a little, the fear gone from the grey eyes now. "I am glad that they please you," he told her earnestly, and it made her feel as though she had been the one to offer him a gift. It made her wonder just how much of a risk this had been, from his point of view.
"I need to send for the maid," she said a little regretfully, taking a step backwards and breaking contact again. Hopefully the woman was available; she had gone to help Almea's sister, and there was no telling whether they were finished already.
Gerald followed her as she returned to her mirror. "Might I be of assistance?" he asked. "If only to take out the pins."
She began to decline almost automatically, then stopped. It was only going to be simple work now, after all. Get the pins out, untangle everything and place the flowers. She could have done it herself if her dress hadn't made it difficult for her to raise her arms as far as she'd need to. Still, she shouldn't let him do servants' work. But he had offered, and he had sounded as though he had meant it.
"The pins are just the start," she said, sitting down and firmly pushing her concerns aside. "But if you don't mind…"
"Of course not." He smiled at her in the mirror and set to work, carefully plucking the little bits of metal out of her hair. The first time he made her wince, he apologized, and the second time as well, until she fought to hold still just so she wouldn't make him feel bad.
Once all pins were accounted for, she offered him the brush and relaxed under the soothing strokes. Having someone comb her hair always put her at ease, and Gerald was far more considerate than the maids tended to be. Always stopping before he could really tug at a snarl, untangling it with his fingers instead of using the brush. Soon Almea closed her eyes and just focused on the sensations. So calming, both the motions and the knowledge of whose hands were behind them. It was something she could get used to.
It was over almost too soon. She'd have preferred to spend the rest of the evening like this, but most likely they were already late. So she talked Gerald through putting simple plaits into part of her hair, just enough to keep it out of her face, and then explained what to do about the flowers. They fascinated her; it was the first time she saw something fae-touched so close, and it was extraordinary to see what could be done. This was such a small and harmless change, and yet she could tell that it had not been easily accomplished.
The last flower was woven into her hair, and in the mirror she could see Gerald study his accomplishment with narrowed eyes. One flower was rearranged just slightly, then he nodded, apparently satisfied, and helped her to rise from her seat again. The look in his eyes as he regarded her was almost enough to make her blush.
"You are beautiful," he told her, and she felt her cheeks colour at that.
"Only thanks to you," she returned and held out her hand. Gerald bowed, then took it and came to stand to her left, the proper place for an escort. She felt a rush of gratefulness that it was him in that position, not a well-meaning stranger who was with her just because the king or queen had asked him to.
She sighed softly, out of relief and also a bit of happiness. It made Gerald turn towards her, a hint of concern on his face, and she tightened her hand around his for a moment to let him know that all was well. The concern mostly faded then, replaced by one of his little private smiles that made her feel so privileged whenever she earned one. Impulsively she leaned close and brushed a kiss against his cheek; not entirely acceptable and proper, but there was nobody watching.
His eyes were full of pleased surprise when she drew back again, and it made her feel daring. She watched his face for a moment, trying to judge his mood, then very carefully kissed him again, properly this time. She felt him stiffen for an instant before he responded. Just a brief moment before they withdrew again, but it felt much longer, and so right. It made Almea wish that they didn't have to leave, not when they were just on the brink of something new. And Gerald was thinking the same, if she was reading his expression correctly.
She sighed softly. "We need to go, or we will be late," she said, hesitating for a moment before continuing, "although this is much more interesting."
"Just so," he agreed quietly, never breaking eye contact. It made her want to kiss him again, but she did not dare. Not when it would make it even harder to spend the rest of the evening pretending that nothing had happened.
Gerald took a step backwards with the same reluctance she felt herself.
"Shall we, my Lady?" he asked, offering his hand again.
She smiled as she accepted. "Lead the way."