Page 66 of Claiming the Tower
“You finish your explanation, because if we go to bed, you won’t,” Bess pointed out.
It got her a laugh. “All right. There I am, waiting. None of the rest of us are saying anything. Our role is to witness. But then one of them, the one who had been doing most of the talking, asks me why I’m wearing black. I do not know how much of human customs they understand, of course, or whether they’ve some prohibition around death. Or rather, they probably do. Most cultures do one way or another, but I didn’t know which parts mattered.”
“And surely such a thing is different with beings who do not generally die.” That was an interesting philosophical and theoretical consideration. And it was definitely a question for sometime later. Not tonight. “You explained?”
“Yes. Clumsily, compared to what I’d prefer, but it did not insult. She asked me to walk with her and speak privately, and there was a garden. I wish I’d been able to see it properly. Even more full of magic, the way it smelled...” Hereswith inhaled deeply.
“Night-blooming flowers.” Bess said immediately, leaning in to sniff at Hereswith’s hair. “And incense, and mist. You still smell like it, a little.”
“That.” Bess set her hand for a moment on Hereswith’s shoulder and Hereswith reached up to take it. “She asked me what I’d do about the question at hand. We talked about— tearing down the old worn patterns. The ones that don’t serve anymore. Like taking down a castle where a castle is no longer the right shape, the right place, the right— the right weight in the landscape.
“And then?” Bess stepped back again to finish the braid, working a length of ribbon into the last few inches to tie it off properly.
“Then we went back, and there was, I don’t know. However many hours of actual negotiations, beginning from the ground up, with no previous assumptions about doing what we’d done before. The end results seem much more agreeable to everyone? There were three clauses that dated back to 1659 or so.”
“The end of the Protectorate.” Bess knew the date well enough. “Will there be more sorting to be done?”
“Oh, probably. There generally is. But not about this.” Bess finished tying up the braid, then looped it under so the long weight of it wouldn’t twine in Hereswith’s sleep. That was no good, either for Hereswith or for Bess. Hereswith stretched, once that was done and she could move more freely. “I don’t think Gervase is exactly pleased at my being so forward, but he can’t actually argue with the results or the fact it was requested.”
“Mmm. Well, then. Come to bed, now?”
“Bed. Bed sounds like the best idea anyone’s had in a long time.” Hereswith stood. Bess could hear the slight sound of something in her back shifting. Then she shed the dressing gown as she walked to the bed. Bess followed her promptly, and within a minute they were curled up under the blankets, rapidly becoming toasty warm.
Epilogue
Winter solstice 1854 at Dinas Emrys
Hereswith finished the dance, turning to give her partner a proper curtsey. Erasmus Forley had been a considerate partner. Not particularly quick on his feet, but that wasn’t needed for the formal ritual dances. There was apparently some ongoing debate about whether to add the waltz to the sequence, but that had not yet happened. It meant that the ritual was built on older forms, adaptable to something more like an elegant procession than anything vigorous.
Now, they cleared the dance floor for other dancers, certainly more of that vigour in the offing. The Great Hall of the Council Keep was brilliantly lit, charmlights glittering off the chandeliers and illusion decorations. There were plenty of evergreen boughs, along with the red holly berries and the white mistletoe. The crystal cast rainbow shadows as it caught the light, and made the golden ribbons on the garlands glow warmly.
They’d ended up near enough to Eridana Forley, Erasmus’s granddaughter. She made a little dip at Hereswith. “I appreciate you saving me from the formalities.” In past years, she’d apparently partnered her grandfather. She went on, “I’d rather watch the patterns of the dancing than have to be in the midst.” She was an astronomer, a few years older than Hereswith, well-established in the field. It made sense that she might find watching the patterns and orbits of interest. “Grandfather, Lord Donovan wondered if you’d have a word, and he said to mention he’s opened an excellent brandy.”
“Well, then.” Erasmus bowed to her. “I leave you to your own pleasures, Hereswith. Blessed Solstice.”
“And to you. “ Hereswith took half a step back after checking with her magic that she wouldn’t back into someone. She half-turned to find Bess coming toward her on a perfect angle, a glass of punch in each hand. She held one out to Hereswith. “Oh, thank you.”
“Shall we find a quiet corner for the moment?” Bess gestured, having found a spot that did not have people chatting or plotting— or both— already.
Once they’d gathered themselves, Hereswith let out a breath, took another sip of her drink, and considered the room. The problem was that she was still, socially speaking, in mourning. She had every reason to be here. It was a magical and ritual obligation of her position, but it was also not the done thing to be too actively seen enjoying herself. That meant no further dancing this evening. She’d worn black, of course, though in a finer silk than most would.
There had been no question in Hereswith’s mind that Bess should come. For one thing, Bess had been quietly taking on arranging such social calls as Hereswith might arrange. In February, they would be expanding that slightly to small supper parties, quiet and at home. There, they’d be rotating through various members of the Council, their spouses, or some other suitable member of their family. In May, when it had been six months since Papa’s death, she might reasonably invite a slightly larger circle.
The next few hours, she needed to be visible, but she could move from quiet conversation to quiet conversation. Now she looked around. “Did you have thoughts about whom to speak to? Now you’ve seen the room?”
“Mmm. Yes.” Bess glanced around. She wasn’t so crass as to gesture— others might well see that— but her gloved fingers twitched in her skirts, as if she were quietly counting people off. “I think the Farrells might be interested in a conversation. Or Claudia Howard. She was watching you closely.”
“Claudia, indeed?” The woman had not particularly been on Hereswith’s personal list, but she’d be glad to investigate. “Have you seen any of the Judsons?”
“Mmmm.” That had a quiet rumble to it.
Hereswith looked more closely at her friend, her lover, her increasingly other half. And certainly Bess more than matched Hereswith in keeping track of the near infinite threads of this level of Albion’s society. “Marcus intends to ask you to dance, mind, still. And perhaps introduce you to a few people.” Hereswith had made sure of his invitation, of course.
“That, I will accept, since I know he does not intend it that way. And it would let me get a closer look at a few dynamics.” She lifted one finger, the signal they’d agreed on earlier to indicate a possible affair or indiscretion.
Hereswith had thought, before tonight, that the great and the glittering horde of Albion’s finest families would have a certain amount more subtlety. Why she’d thought that, she didn’t know, because people were reliably people. The non-magical of this class and status kept some things private, but not nearly as many as they thought. The same was true here, in Dinas Emrys. And those threads, like all the rest, could be telling in future, either about connections or about places where people would push away from each other in the aftermath. “Marcus will not step on your feet. Whatever sweet nothings he murmurs in your ear will be about gossip and connections you might use. Since he cannot dance with me.”
Before Hereswith could say any more, Marcus himself appeared, bowing over Hereswith’s hand, making much of seeing her, and then offering his arm to Bess. They made a pleasant couple on the dance floor. Bess was as competent and tidy a dancer as she was in everything else, and Hereswith enjoyed the chance to see her in motion. She thought, too, that Bess was enjoying the opportunity. Bess might not wish to be one of the Great Families— she knew the costs there, as well as the benefits. But she did like a beautiful gown, and she particularly enjoyed the music. Those were both things Hereswith was delighted to provide.
