Authors: Dara Joy
Rital of Proof (23 page)
The guests had already arrived by the time they got to the Reynard estate. By custom, the dinner was a fairly intimate one consisting of the Septibunal and Anya's j closest friends. The Duchene at first gave them a discrectly disapproving glance. Then she winked at them. Green started to explain. "I'm sorry, Anya, we—" The Duchene held up her hand. "Don't bother with an excuse as it is obvious to me why you are late." She gave Jorlan a pointed look. He showed a sudden feigned interest in the floral designed carpet.
The Duchene was not finished. "And I don't have to ask how you are faring, Jorlan, for I can tell by the sparkle in your eyes that you are more than fine."
The postfastening dinner was to alleviate concerned fathers and mothers that their son had not suffered any ill use during the fastening night. Normally, it was a happy, festive occasion—unless the name-bearer was unnaturally glum.
This was not the case here.
Jorlan's cheekbones darkened slightly in embarrassment.
"Don't be shy about it." Anya tapped him with her holofan, causing a miniature arc storm to erupt between its spines. "I'd rather see you this way than any other."
"Oh, but I'd rather see him a somewhat different way," Green jested, starting off the fun as the proud name-giver. She grinned wickedly. Anya snorted.
Jorlan gave them a forbearing look. "You are both disgusting."
They laughed.
"Better get use to it tonight, my blaze-dragon. Tonight is the night you take all the ribbing from the guests."
"Horrible custom. Do I look so different?" He made a dreamy face. The Duchene chuckled.
The guests were going to tease him good-naturedly about his loss of the veil and his introduction to the finer pleasures in life. He sighed. "How bad is this going to get?"
"Pretty bad," Green warned him. "Oh, and they'll cloak it in double entendre to make sure it'll sting worse." She smiled brightly at him. Stepping on tiptoe she kissed his cheek with a smack.
"Then I thank you in advance for coming to my aid—both of you."
"Did we say that?" Anya asked Green in mock seriousness.
"Can't recall that." Green smirked at him.
He sucked in his cheek, trying not to let his smile show. Since his bath, he had been in the most extraordinary mood. All of his senses seemed to be alive and singing within him. He had never anticipated this. And he was wise enough not to ignore it.
There had always been something about her.
..
Green handed her cloak to
"Yes, all seven of them, including that—that—"
"Snip-butt?" Jorlan supplied helpfully.
Anya gasped. "Really, Jorlan!"
Green and Jorlan's eyes met in mirth.
Anya continued. "This is the last that—that person is to be allowed in my home!"
"Let's hope she doesn't upset the festivities too much tonight." Green's mood wilted slightly. Claudine was managing to ruin her most memorable occasions once again.
came over to congratulate Green. Anya took the opportunity to speak in an aside to her grandson. "It is as I told you, is it not? You are happy with my choice and the outcome."
Jorlan was silent for a moment. He spoke quietly. "I have always preferred the choice, Duchene, as you seem to know. It is not Green I object to, it is the manner in which I was taken."
"I know you do not object to her. Do you think I did not see you watching her all those years—hidden upstairs whenever she came to visit?"
Jorlan flushed.
"I have always known that you wanted her."
"Not more than my personal freedom," he bit out.
"You cannot tell me you did not enjoy your fastening night; it is there in your face for anyone to see."
"I am not speaking of that," he said in an undertone. "I am speaking about a decision being taken away from me—from all men."
Anya fumed. "Again with that?"
"Always with
that.
Just because I am pleased with my name-giver does not mean I have abandoned my beliefs. It just seems to me the better choice is to fully explore both pathways. I will not shut Green out, for she is meaningful to me and my life. However, I am as committed as I ever was to my own direction. She bid on me knowing full well my aversion to the practice; I have not forgotten that and she knows it."
Anya was plainly disapproving. "There are things you know nothing about."
Jorlan arched his brow, wondering if there was not some deeper meaning behind the remark. "I am learning and so will bide my time—for now."
What is that to mean?
Anya gave him a horrified look. "Cease this foolish talk! I will hear no more of it! You will hurt her, Jorlan."
Jorlan exhaled heavily. "Grandmother, I
care.
I would never... " He stopped, unwilling to go on.
The confession seemed to mollify the Duchene somewhat. "Good. I will be optimistic that your good sense and breeding will eventually win out."
A muscle ticked in Jorlan's jaw. "We must never forget male breeding, should we?"
Anya fluttered her holofan, but couldn't quite meet his eye.
left Green. She turned to the pair, curious as to what they had been whispering about. But her curiosity would have to be answered later; there was something she needed to speak to the Duchene about
first. "Jorlan, I need to speak with your grandmother for a few moments, privately; do you mind? It won't take long."
"Of course not. I'll go round to the kitchens and scare cook for a while." His expression was one of speculative mischief-making.
Anya rolled her eyes. "Mind yourself!"
"I always do." He strolled off down the hallway toward the kitchens, a distinct stealth in his step.
Both women watched after him with varying degrees of amused wariness.
"He's never been an easy person to figure." Anya remarked.
"I can tell that."
"Shall we go to the study?"
"That will be fine."
As soon as they entered the room, Anya rolled the doors closed behind them with a click.
An alert pair of narrowed gray eyes watched them from the edge of the greeting room. Claudine D'anbere stealthily made her way down the hall and stood by the study doors.
"Now what's this all about, my dear?"
Green picked up a small figurine of a Klee in full canter that sat on the edge of a desk. It was a work of art, capturing the free, unfettered nature of the animal.
Somehow she knew Jorlan had given it to his grandmother.
Carefully, she set it back down. "It's about Jorlan."
There was a long pause in the room. Finally Anya said, "What is it? Are you not happy with him?"
"Don't be foolish! I'm mad for him and you know it." She paused. "Why didn't you tell me about him?"
Anya viewed her with a hooded expression. Had she overheard Jorlan's confession? She didn't want to give away a confidence. "Tell you what?"
"Don't pretend you don't know. That he is a Sensitive!"
Anya blinked. A Sensitive? Her complexion paled in shock. "I—I never knew. Green, I swear!"
"How could you not know?" Now Green was stunned.
Anya sighed. "I knew there was something different about him; it never occurred to me that he might be a Sensitive. It is so rare in the aristocracy."
"I know. It took me by surprise as well."
"Did you find out... last night?" The old woman blushed, not wanting to hear any details.
"I suspected beforehand; last night it became obvious."
Anya's shoulders slumped. "I am so sorry, Green. I really had no idea."
But it explains so much.
"Does this bother you?"
Green snorted. "Don't be a nog-twist, Anya; of course it doesn't bother me. It's quite a boon, if you must know."
Anya put up her hand. "Please. I do not need to hear this, I am his grandmother."
Green chuckled. "Very well. Although I am concerned should this become common knowledge. It would make Jorlan very uncomfortable. As it is, he is trying to understand what it is himself. I really think he has no idea how different he is." Green's face reflected her impression of those unique qualities of his.
"You like it, don't you?" Anya was astonished.
"Oh, yes." Green grinned at her. "Definitely. It is his differences that fascinate me, Anya. He is a most uncommon jewel."
"That he is. And with a good heart, too... " she muttered, lost in thought.
"Yes, he has."
"I have always thought it the key to him," Anya shrewdly clued the younger woman without giving anything anyway.
Green raised her eyebrow. "Perhaps."
"In any event, I agree with you; it's best to keep this information to ourselves. If you should ever have a son and he inherits the trait, you would be besieged with bids from his infancy. Neither of you will have any peace." She sighed. "Sometimes the Slice can be so self-serving!"
"Sometimes?"
"Hmf!"
"Shall we go and watch Jorlan take his beating? Despite Claudine's sour face, it should be fun."
"Yes, let's! The come-out deserves it after all the trouble he's caused me over the years!"
Chuckling, Green shook her finger at her.
Sometimes on rare occasions, the Duchene became simply Anya Reynard.
Moving quickly away from the study doors, Claudine made her way back into the greeting room.
Jorlan was a Sensitive!
Her hunger for him took an exponential leap. Her eyes flashed with victory and something dark.
First, she would have to destroy Green once and for all. Jorlan would then be bound to her and her bed. She wondered how long it would take her to use him up.
Soon,
she promised herself.
But not too soon.
For this kind of work, timing was everything.
The snogglehound whined piteously for a scrap of pudding.
With its five short legs, barrel-shaped segmented body, ridiculously small head, and perpetually dazed expression, the snogglehound was a favorite pet of the Select Quarter. Some of them were pampered to death.
Literally.
The animals had no sense of when to stop eating. Like the Slice, they positively coveted rich foods. The snogglehound sat up, extenuating his long body so his tiny head sailed by the edge of the table. Whereupon he loudly snuffled the food as he passed.
Claudine D'anbere hissed. "I cannot believe you brought that beast in here to the table, Chamford! It belongs outside."
The snogglehound let out a piteous wail. "There, my pet; here's a piece of pudding for Hugo." Earlene Chamford threw Hugo a bit of food and D'anbere a sneer all at the same time. The Earlene was making it quite plain that Hugo was staying.
"I think he's rather adorable." Green chuckled behind her hand as Hugo caught the snippet, then lifted his chin to sneer at Claudine in an exact replica of his owner. Snogglehounds were brilliant mimics.
Jorlan laughed outright.
Claudine put her drink down with a clink. Anger suffused her face but then she seemed to remember something. At ease, she sat back in her chair and gave Green a look that could only be called gloating.
Now why is that?
Green wondered. With Claudine one could never be too careful.
"How bright the flamelights are tonight," She-Count Grier announced as she took a helping of Jacama outlander sausage. "Can one guess what fuels the spark?" she remarked coyly.
The guests at the long banquet table chortled and clinked their glasses with their carved spoons.
Jorlan glanced at Green and rolled his eyes. "Il starting."
Green winked at him. "Yes."
Claudine sat forward. "Although one can say that some of the fire has died down to a smolder." She| looked Jorlan right in the eye.
Misinterpreting her real meaning, several Lordenes and their name-bearers called out in good fun, "Hear! Hear!"
Jorlan, however, knew her meaning. He met her look and stared her down.
Green sipped at her drink and casually remarked, "I don't know, She-Count, it seems to me the veil, once broken, is twice as strong."
The guests pounded on the table, thoroughly enjoying Green's saucy wit. Claudine's mouth pursed but she reluctantly raised her goblet to Green.
"I could have done without that one," Jorlan remarked in an aside to her. She flicked him a quick look of amusement.
A volley of servants came from the kitchen with more platters of food. They started placing them on the groaning table, much to the delight of Hugo, whose head was seen popping up all along the edge. The snogglehound was so excited, he scurried back and forth under the table, only to come up on either side between everyone's chairs to sniff at each new plate of food as if it were positioned just for him. It was very comical.
