“It was a long time ago. As I had an interest
in music that they did not, I was at a concert at our Dwelling of
the Gods with friends. A traveling choir that was quite good.
They’d gone into town to have dinner at a local pub. The pub was
known for excellent stew.” Another shrug and she finished, “At
least they had a lovely last dinner.”
“Cease that nonsense,” I ordered and watched
my maid blink.
“I beg your pardon?”
“This is horrific, this story,” I announced
something she knew much better than me. “I know you wish to make
little of it and move on, though I don’t know why, except perhaps
you don’t want to trouble me with it, or you wish to deny the
feelings you still feel about it.”
“Well, of course I don’t wish to trouble you
with it. You have enough to concern you,” she replied
ridiculously.
“And my maid who’s been loyal, hard-working
and attentive, and these last days, exceptionally kind, having this
history doesn’t concern me?” I queried with one raised brow.
After a careful pause, she reminded me just
as carefully, “It hasn’t for years, milady.”
She was damnably right.
I lifted my chin. “Well it does now,” I
stated crisply and continued in the same tone. “And I’m sad for
you. Were you close?”
She nodded.
“Then that makes me even sadder for you,” I
declared.
“Thank you,” she replied.
“Is this how you came to service, or was your
family in service before you?”
“I was…well, I needed to find work. I was
thirteen. It was an orphanage or service. I think I chose rightly,”
she answered.
She’d been thirteen.
Yes.
Unthinkable.
“I’ve no idea if you did or did not but that
matters not now,” I told her. “Here you are. In service to me. And
there I’d like you to remain, with another maid for you to oversee
and assist you as we travel over the Green Sea for whatever awaits
us there.”
I found after making my proclamation that I
was anxious to hear her reply.
Travel across the Green Sea was unusual
because it wasn’t entirely safe. Indeed, travel anywhere wasn’t
safe by land or by sea. Pirates. Highwaymen. Intemperate
weather.
But from my knowledge (which was not vast),
there were other dangers lurking along that passage.
In other words, this wasn’t your average
adventure.
This was an
adventure
.
Therefore, I knew what I was asking, and
these were partly the reasons why I was offering her a rise in
salary but also every opportunity to break out of my service
without any stress or concern about her future should she wish to
decline.
I did actually think after my visit with my
brother and his family and my back had healed enough to make the
journey, rather than remaining in Lunwyn, which was now safe for
me, that an adventure was just the thing.
But to embark on it with someone familiar
would be beneficial.
And if I only admitted it to myself (for,
even though I seemed to be sharing with alarming frequency),
embarking on it with Josette would be beyond beneficial and maybe
prove to make the journey and any ventures we had enjoyable.
“It would be an honor to go with you,” she
said.
I was stunned by her ready acceptance (as
well as heartened and perhaps flattered) thus had to fight the mad
desire to cheer out loud.
Even so, I needed to be certain Josette was
certain.
“And Fleuridia? Do you leave no one else
behind? Friends? A lover?” I asked.
“No, milady.”
I narrowed my gaze at her. “You’re
certain.”
She nodded fervently and it was then I noted
a light of excitement in her eyes.
“Yes, I’m sure. Very sure.” She hopped a
little on her cushion and reached out to grab my hands that were
folded in my lap. “This might be fun!”
I looked down at my hands and barely caught
sight of hers holding mine before she wrenched hers away.
“My apologies for the forwardness, milady,”
she murmured as if I’d chastised her.
I looked back at her face to see she’d
averted her gaze.
“Josette,” I called.
It took time but she eventually turned her
attention back to me.
Or, to be exact, my nose.
“You’ve cared for my person for years. I do
think it’s quite all right in a moment of excitement to touch my
hands, don’t you?”
Her focus shot from my nose to my eyes.
“I…yes, if you don’t mind, milady.”
“I surely don’t,” I decreed then promptly
stood because frankly, I’d had enough.
Truly, the ease of participating in
friendliness and sociability was troubling.
“Would you like your nightgown, Lady Franka?”
Josette asked.
“Yes, please.”
She assisted me in divesting me of my robe.
She assisted me in donning my nightgown. She then assisted me
putting my robe back on. She even saw to the unnecessary task of
holding me steady as I slid my feet into my slippers. And she
hovered close as I moved back into the bedroom.
Not done, she fervently plumped the pillows
before I climbed into bed and threw the soft, woolen throw over my
legs after I’d managed that feat.
“Is there aught else?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
She waited patiently but I could see that
light of excitement still there in her eyes.
She did indeed like me.
She also liked adventure.
“Milady?” she prompted when I did not speak
on.
“Do you hope we make Airen or would you
rather we journey inland and seek Firenze?”
A gleaming smile spread on her face even as
she shook her head. “I actually hope we find Mar-el.”
Mar-el, an island nation that was said to be
heavily guarded, for reasons that were an even more heavily-guarded
secret. An island nation where it was also said its citizens, who
were deliciously dark of skin, actually spent the vast majority of
their time on magnificent galleons wreaking havoc on the seas.
“Hmm,” I murmured. “I’d not considered that.”
I tipped my head to the side. “We’ll have to put that on our
agenda.”
“That’d be
marvelous
,” she breathed,
her excitement visibly escalating.
I nodded, actually fighting back an indulgent
smile.
Winning that, I beat back rolling my eyes…at
myself.
“Indeed,” I murmured in a way I hoped she
knew she was dismissed, but kindly.
Gods.
Perhaps I should allow Noc to call me the
revolting
Frannie
and ask everyone else to do the same for
it would seem I was Franka Drakkar no more.
“I’ll just see to sorting everything for the
night,” Josette said.
“Thank you, Josette,” I replied, reaching for
my book.
“No.”
At her peculiar response, I turned my
attention back to my maid.
“Pardon?” I queried.
“No,” she said softly. “Thank you, Lady
Franka. Thank you
bunches
.”
This put me in the awkward and unpleasant
position of feeling emotion swelling up the back of my throat.
Fortunately, Josette was very good at her
job.
So before I embarrassed myself (further), she
turned on her slipper and scurried to the dressing room.
I looked down at my book but didn’t open
it.
Josette was accompanying me across the Green
Sea.
I allowed my lips to curl up minutely.
Marvelous.
I Smiled. Huge.
Valentine
Valentine Rousseau’s eyes opened and she
stared at the dark ceiling.
Then she slid out of bed, leaving the young,
slumbering, firm, naked male form in it.
Bending gracefully, her red-tipped fingers
tagged the slip of green silk and lace off the floor. She pulled it
over her head and the soft material slithered down her body.
She moved out of her bedroom, down the hall
and to the room with the salmon-colored walls.
She did not bother herself with turning on a
light. She knew every inch of the room, her house, for not only did
she live in it, she’d been born to it.
She glided through the dark to stand at the
small, round table on which the large, clear, smooth, crystal
sphere sat on top of a bed of emerald-green velvet.
The tips of her fingers skimmed the ball and
instantly a wisp of jade smoke curled inside the crystal.
She stared at its glow through the dark and
felt her mouth get soft.
Just as she thought.
What she didn’t understand was why she cared.
Cared so much it woke her.
On this thought, her mouth grew hard.
“Annoying,” she murmured as the smoke
twisted, coiled and curved.
Valentine took in a delicate, displeased
breath.
For years, she cared about very little. In
fact, nothing.
But herself.
Then came her little goddess of love,
Seoafin, Finnie.
Now, caring seemed to be all she did.
And not just about herself.
In fact, all the troubles were sorted in that
other world, but was she quit of it?
No.
She was not only not quit of it, she was home
in New Orleans and still checking in frequently to see how things
progressed with not only Franka and Noctorno, but Seoafin and Frey,
Circe and Lahn…
All of them.
This going so far as to wake her in the night
so she’d seek her crystal just to make certain all was well.
She cared, there was no denying it.
This didn’t mean she didn’t lament doing just
that.
Valentine studied the smoke, sighed and
watched Noc laughing and Franka glowering as they sat together in
Franka’s chamber.
It was no surprise he’d made little headway.
Not only Franka’s history would inhibit things moving forward,
she’d lost a lover in a dramatically sad way.
There were many wounds Franka Drakkar needed
healed but only some of them Noc could assist in this effort.
The loss of her lover she’d have to come to
terms with on her own.
Suddenly, Valentine tipped her head to the
side as she felt it. Within seconds, the room turned green. Not
Valentine’s green, which shaded emerald to jade. No, Lavinia’s
green. The green of Lavinia’s goddess of the other world, Alabasta,
which was the color of a fertile meadow.
Every witch with any amount of power had
their own color.
It represented their soul.
Thus Lavinia’s was fresh and nurturing.
And Valentine’s was rich and precious.
Valentine directed her eyes to the vortex
forming and watched Lavinia appear.
“My friend,” Lavinia greeted when her feet
were planted on Valentine’s priceless Persian rug.
“It’s late,” Valentine replied.
Lavinia, accustomed to Valentine, took no
offense at her reply and smiled but looked to the sphere on the
table.
Her eyes moved back to Valentine.
“The knight of your world is making
progress,” she noted.
Valentine swept a hand to her crystal
ball.
“This, I’ve noticed,” she drawled.
Lavinia nodded. “What you may not have
noticed is that her mother’s magic was revealed, but Franka’s was
not. We both felt the swell of it that terrible night some days
ago, but she has not come forward as a witch. No one else is aware
of it, save perhaps Noctorno. This concerns me.”
“She’s coping with a good deal, Lavinia,
perhaps you’ll give her more than a few days,” Valentine
suggested.
“It’s my duty to my country to share that I
hold this knowledge, my friend,” Lavinia replied.
Valentine sighed a delicate, displeased
sigh.
“It would be nice if you would come,” Lavinia
urged. “I do think she’s of your…” her friend’s lips tipped up,
“
kind
, and you will speak well together.” Her voice dipped
quieter. “In times such as these, she may need something just as
that.”
“I’ll return,” Valentine replied.
Lavinia nodded. She knew if Valentine said
she would be there, she would be there.
Unfortunately, Lavinia knew Valentine would
be there because she
cared
.
“You came to my world just for this?”
Valentine asked.
Lavinia looked through the dark room but
shook her head doing it, stating, “I was curious.”
“Do be curious at another time,” she invited.
“When it’s not the dead of night and I don’t have a lovely body,
not mine, obviously, currently warming my bed.”
Lavinia eyed Valentine. “Now I see why you
returned home.”
Valentine shook her head. “You see nothing.
He’s just a body. A trifle. A useful one, but only that.”
Lavinia eyed her far more closely. “No one is
just
a body, Valentine.”
“He is,” Valentine sniffed.
“Have you had another who meant more?”
Lavinia asked.
“Ah,” Valentine breathed out. “I see you’ve
come in the middle of the night not only because you were curious,
but to discuss my love life, which means you’re not simply curious.
You’re nosy.”
“It’s morn in my world,” Lavinia reminded
her.
“I do know that,
chérie
,” Valentine
sighed.
“I know you know. I also know you didn’t
answer my question,” Lavinia pressed.
“When the time comes, I’ll choose a man to
make me round with a daughter. But even then he’ll just be a body,
though he’ll also be his seed, so rest assured, I’ll select him
with great care.”
“That’s wretched,” Lavinia said gently.
Valentine lifted her brows in surprise. “You
wish to be tangled up in a
relationship
?”
“I’ve lived a life where I was quite content
with my own company. But I must say, watching Finnie and Frey,
Maddie and Apollo…”
“That was about magic. And destiny,”
Valentine eschewed.
“All love has its own magic,” Lavinia
returned, her eyes sliding toward the door, her words the truth, of
course, with caveats. “Even love that doesn’t span universes.”