The Mystic Marriage (42 page)

They stood together for longer than she could track, their hands not in embrace but in exploration. Gradually Antuniet felt herself relax as strangeness became more familiar and more intriguing. Her body began to shape itself against Jeanne’s more closely. A yawn betrayed her.

Jeanne pulled away and traced a finger down her cheek one more time. “Toneke,” she said, “we’re both exhausted. That’s never good the first time. Marien will be showing up with a fiacre sometime soon to fetch me, and your housekeeper will come knocking at any moment. Take the day to rest and think. Things may look different in the evening.”

Antuniet shook her head. “I’m not so changeable as that.” But she was suddenly grateful for the respite. Another yawn overtook her. It felt decidedly unattractive. “When will you come back?”

“Come to my house for dinner,” Jeanne urged. “I’ll send a carriage.” With a twinkle in her eye, she added, “My bed is somewhat larger and more comfortable than yours, if you’re still inclined.”

“I’m not as changeable as that,” Antuniet repeated.

* * *

It can be pleasant
, Jeanne had said. Looking back now, that seemed an odd choice of words: so pale and thin.
It can be pleasant
. Antuniet searched for a more suitable word, but the one that came most to mind was
strange
. Strange to be lying here in someone else’s bed. Strange to feel another body beside her, soft in the rhythms of sleep. And the things that Jeanne had done, had shown her… Pleasant, but strange.

Memories came drifting back to her as sleep began to nibble at the edges of her senses. The awkward moment when Jeanne’s butler had let her in the door and she realized he must know—they all must know. Long looks across the dinner table as her attention wavered between the exquisite meal and Jeanne’s always-entrancing conversation. Jeanne’s face as she rose and held out her hand, asking, “Shall we go upstairs?” The brief panic when Jeanne had begun to pull the pins from her hair and she was thrown back into the lodge at Uhlenbad with all the antlered skulls staring. And without knowing why, Jeanne had stopped and waited for her to come back into herself again. The laughing, teasing way in which Jeanne had turned undressing into a game, and then the long, slow exploration within the covers. Strange, but pleasant.

At the May Day bonfire, the smoke oracle had seemed a cruel threat: that she would never know love except the kind Jeanne had to offer. She’d thought she knew what kind of love that was. Now she knew the oracle for a promise: that she
would
find love, because Jeanne was the only person who had ever looked deeply enough within her to find something worth loving. She’d never expected to understand what it was that drove men and women together in the throes of passion. Men and women—well, perhaps she still didn’t understand that. In this moment, what she felt for Jeanne had nothing to do with male or female; it had only to do with Jeanne. She couldn’t imagine lying beside anyone else in this way with the feeling that all the world had shifted into place. She couldn’t imagine melting under anyone else’s touch, or feeling so at peace that she could fall asleep in anyone else’s arms.

She woke, confused, in the dark to the sound of her name and the feel of hands shaking her.

“Toneke, wake up, you’re dreaming.”

She sat, feeling her heart racing. “What?”

“You had an evil dream.”

Antuniet reached for memory but the substance eluded her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Did I wake you?”

Jeanne muffled an odd laugh and traced the lines of her cheek. “You were screaming as if all the demons of hell were chasing you. Do you have nightmares like that every night?”

Antuniet shook her head and laid back wearily against the covers. “I don’t think so. I used to. But not since…Oh!” she said suddenly. “I forgot my chrysolite amulet, the one against night phantasms. You remember I told you about it back in the spring? That I would know for certain whether the enhancement worked? It’s under my pillow, back home.”

“Then I’ll need to serve as your charm against nightmares tonight,” Jeanne said, wrapping Antuniet in her arms. “It worked before.”

Antuniet made a confused noise. “Before?”

“That night at New Year’s. When I knew I loved you. You had dreams that night too, and I held you all night to keep them away.”

She sounded almost embarrassed, but Antuniet couldn’t tell in the dark. “If you knew then, why didn’t you say something?”

“What was there to say? What would you have thought of me? All there was for me was to be a moth to your candle. A stray dog hoping for scraps from your table.” Antuniet felt Jeanne’s finger tracing down the profile of her nose and brushing briefly against her lips. “And you do know…” Jeanne continued. “You understand…society tolerates my little amusements because I know the limits. It’s one thing to dally with actresses or flirt with married women. It’s another to seduce the daughters of the nobility. And I had no reason to think you were willing to be seduced.”

“But I’m not…” Antuniet strained to follow the logic of Jeanne’s explanation. “I’m not a daughter of the nobility, not anymore.”

Jeanne’s voice was rich with amusement. “I think that could be conveniently forgotten for the sake of a delicious scandal. Shall we be scandalous some more?”

It was quite some time before they slept again. But when they did, there were no further dreams.

* * *

It was well toward noon before Antuniet could pull herself away. “But there’s the beryl to clean free and Mefro Feldin will wonder where I’ve gone.” Though at least the door would only be locked and not barred. Feldin might think she’d only stepped out for an errand.

“Oh pooh!” Jeanne said dismissively. “What do you care what she thinks?”

But she sent Tomric down to the corner to hail a fiacre and gave no further protest. “I’ll come join you when I’ve set a few things to rights here.”

“With all this coming and going I’m surprised you haven’t decided to keep your own carriage.”

“Oh,
la
no!” Jeanne retorted. “It isn’t even finding the space for a stable,; there would be the groom and a stableboy and a coachman. It would nearly double my staff and for what? The horse would forever be throwing a shoe or coming down foundered. Now here you are and I won’t kiss you goodbye because I see you’re already blushing and we’ll hardly be a few hours apart.”

The workshop looked just as she’d left it, even to the scattering of crumbs on the floor by the table. She must remember to sweep that up since Feldin would stand by the letter of her contract. It wouldn’t do to have mice. As she was coming downstairs again after changing into her working gown, the housekeeper poked her head out of the back room that served as pantry and storage to say, “I wondered where you’d gone. Bed not slept in…didn’t know if I should worry. Maisetra Sovitre said I was to tell the city guard if anything happened to you, but—”

“I had dinner with the Vicomtesse,” Antuniet replied, hastily assembling a story both true and safe. “It grew late so I stayed the night. You needn’t worry about my comings and goings in the future.”

Feldin didn’t even bother to shrug before turning away. She’d done as much as she felt her duty covered.

The late night’s working was still sitting on top of the now-cold furnace where she’d put it the previous afternoon, just before the fiacre arrived. An eternity ago. She broke the seals and undid the clips, then dumped the contents of the crucible out onto the workbench and set to work. Tapping the mass gently on the bench a few times shook off the powdery material where the flux had been quenched and broke the remaining matrix up into smaller pieces. After setting aside the largest lump from the center, she took a small hammer and broke up the smaller chunks, checking to see if any stray eddies of the congelation had formed wayward stones. They would have no value except for reprocessing. Finally she began picking at the central mass, teasing out the clumps that held the promise of gems within. Her heart quickened as always when the rough black matrix at last revealed a glimpse of fire within.

The first stone emerged slowly under her chisel. In some places the slag flaked away easily; in others it was embedded in small crevices in the stone. And then disappointment as she followed that embedding deep into the heart of the gem and it broke in two under her chisel. She sighed and reached for the next promising lump. Three satisfying stones emerged at last, though only one with the purity and size to consider keeping. Antuniet found herself humming an old song under her breath as she worked.
To make the bearer pleasant,
indeed! Though on a day such as this she hardly needed a stone’s influence to bring pleasant thoughts. She smoothed her thumb across the faces of the pale golden stone, feeling for any last traces of matrix and considered Jeanne’s idea to make a present of it to Mefro Feldin. The thought made her uneasy, as if she would be playing a prank on the woman. No, an honest surliness was better.

As if summoned by the thought, Jeanne came through the door, though in truth she had never been far out of mind for the entire day. She crossed straight over to the workbench where Antuniet was sitting and kissed her softly on one cheek, then more hungrily on the lips. “Be careful, I’m filthy,” Antuniet said. And in the back of her mind a voice whispered,
And Feldin could pass by the doorway at any moment.

“Are you nearly finished?” Jeanne asked. “I wasn’t sure when to tell cook to have dinner ready, and you’ll need to wash and change. I suppose it’s too late for our river walk. We’ll have to make time for it tomorrow.”

Antuniet held up the beryl crystal. “There’s one, at least, worth keeping. A good night’s work, I should think.”

Jeanne repeated, “A good night’s work, indeed,” but she wasn’t looking at the stone.

* * *

In the days that followed, the Great Work was not entirely abandoned, but Antuniet found herself in the workshop more from habit than purpose.
There’s plenty of time. I can’t do much until Anna returns,
she told herself. But that excuse slipped away the afternoon they returned from the river to find a message from Monterrez that her apprentice would be returning to work on the morrow. The idyll was broken.

For the first time in a week, Antuniet declined Jeanne’s invitation to dinner, saying, “I need to get things in order for tomorrow. It wouldn’t do to leave Anna sitting idle when she returns.” It was like coming sleepily out of a long dream, as she gathered together her working notes and found the place in her lists where they had left off.

Jeanne hung over her pretending to pout. “So now I must share you with your other mistress.” It was only playacting, Antuniet knew, but she took the time to reassure Jeanne more directly before returning to her notebooks.

The world had shifted and everything was off balance. That was the excuse Antuniet gave for the next morning’s fumbling near-disasters. Anna was slow and clumsy and couldn’t keep her attention on the distillation long enough to collect the correct fraction. Jeanne seemed constantly underfoot, always expecting—though never demanding—her attention until Antuniet said, “Perhaps you could be useful by fetching us both some luncheon from the cookshop. I don’t see how we’ll have time to go out if we mean to be ready for tomorrow’s process.”

Jeanne was taken aback for a moment and looked as if she might protest, then answered with a brief touch on the cheek and roused Marien to accompany her on the errand. As the door closed behind them, Antuniet turned to Anna saying briskly, “Now let’s pour this mess back in the alembic and begin again.”

Anna’s breath caught in a muffled sob. “I’m sorry—” she began and then could say no more.

Antuniet stared helplessly at the tears tracing down Anna’s cheeks. She had no practice in giving or receiving comfort, but somehow the girl’s face found a home on her shoulder and Antuniet’s arms moved awkwardly around her. “Don’t worry. It’s not so bad as all that. Nothing’s ruined.” But even as she spoke, she knew this storm had nothing to do with the morning’s work. “How was the wedding?” she asked. “Is your sister well settled and happy?”

“Yes.” But there was no joy in the word.

Antuniet held her out at arm’s length. “But…?”

Anna sniffled and found a handkerchief. It gave her time to compose herself. “But…at a wedding…the women are always joking and teasing about who will be next. You know how they do. I’m sure it’s the same at every wedding. But every time someone would start, she’d look at me and turn silent.” Her voice struggled. “It was as if I were a ghost walking among the living.”

Antuniet could see it in her mind: the sudden silences, the careful turning away, the intended kindness that wounded more deeply than cruelty. “Oh, Anna, what have I done?” she said.

“Not…not your fault,” Anna managed.

“But it was,” Antuniet countered. “And there’s nothing I can do to wash away the guilt.” She felt utterly helpless.

“I see him in my dreams sometimes,” Anna whispered. “I come around a corner and I see him with his knife, standing there and staring at me.”

Antuniet shivered and a surge of hatred ran through her. Was he still out there somewhere? She’d had no glimpse of any of her shadows since that dreadful day. Royal protection might keep them safe, but what of justice? Barbara might know. She seemed to make it her business to know things like that.

“I have dreams too,” she said quietly. “Do you remember the chrysolite we made for me? It helps to keep them away.” She hadn’t remembered how effective it had been until that one night when the nightmares had returned. “That will be your next assignment, to make an amulet of your own. Now go wash your face. The Vicomtesse will be back soon and you’ll want to be presentable.”

The afternoon’s work was more successful, bringing them to readiness for the next day’s process by the time Anna’s escort appeared to return her safely home. With the door closed behind them and Marien sent off to hire a carriage, Antuniet found herself swept into a close embrace. Between a succession of passionate kisses, Jeanne whispered, “I’ve been waiting all day to do this!”