Chapter 39

JULY 5TH AT ARUNDEL

A bare ten days after Aunt Metaia’s funeral, Thessaly found herself at Arundel. Childeric’s family had insisted, via Mama, and Mama had made it clear Thessaly would go. It would apparently not ask of her anything outside the bounds of mourning, but simply going made a statement. Thessaly didn’t think it would be a quiet gathering with Childeric and his parents and his brother.

Of course she went. She put on the black gown and the veil, because she didn’t much want anyone to see her face or her expressions, and she went through the portal precisely on time, at noon. A footman met her at the other end. He escorted her silently down the long avenue lined with trees to the front of the house, then in and up the stairs, around a corner.

It took Thessaly a moment to figure out where they were, a gallery above the great hall, the original heart of the manor house. A great carved wooden screen let her see what was going on below, especially at the far end of the room, but she was sure no one could see her. There were two chairs set out, a table between them, but there was no one else there. Below, the only people she could see were servants, bustling around, finishing setting things up.

The footman bowed, and she blinked at him. “May I bring anything, Mistress? It will be a little while before things begin. The water closet is straight across the hallway from the door. You are asked not to go further than that. I will bring tea when the other guests arrive.” That was even more baffling. It seemed she would be sitting here for some unspecified amount of time on her own. She hadn’t brought a book, nor anything that might keep her hands busy, like embroidery. Not that the light was really good enough for that.

Thessaly would not be rude to one of the staff, though. “If there is a book you might bring - a classic story, perhaps? Or perhaps a regional history?” Either of those would be socially acceptable, and easy to find again if she wanted to continue reading whatever it was.

He bowed once and disappeared without a further comment. He returned in five minutes, handing over a copy of something bound in blue bookcloth that turned out to be a series of tales about Sussex folklore. It would do. From there, she was abandoned. She carefully folded the veil back from her face so that it lay over her shoulders, and began to read.

She was entirely on her own for over ninety minutes. She’d made a trip to the water closet, read most of the book. Then she’d gone back to read some of it again, and fretfully looked down below to figure out what might be happening. It was a particular sort of power to demand she show up that early, and then leave her to sit. Just after one-thirty, another woman entered the gallery.

Thessaly turned at the sound, then blinked. The light was not bright up here, but there was more than enough to see that Laudine Fortier did not look well at all. “Mistress Fortier.” She didn’t rise. That wasn’t proper. But figuring out what to say next was tricky. “I hope everything is all right. We’ve not seen you or your husband. Or Garin.” Garin was honestly the easy one to talk about.

Laudine didn’t speak until she’d settled into the other chair. “I’m afraid my husband has been unwell, but thank you for asking. Garin is well, however. He’s enjoying himself at the Essex estate.” She spoke precisely, her voice clipped. “I would have thought Childeric might have mentioned when he invited you.”

That was a whole new knot. Childeric had said nothing to her since that brief word before Philip Landry’s funeral began. Certainly nothing personal. And right now, she did not have the veil to hide behind. Before she could figure out what to say, before she had to figure out what to say, there were steps on the stone outside the gallery. There was an instant of an echo, and she heard Childeric’s voice before she saw him. “Thess, can you come out into the hallway for a moment?”

His voice had a sharpness to it, the sort of tone that assumed he would be obeyed immediately, that she should already have been moving. Of course she stood, murmuring to Laudine something entirely unspecific, a muted “Pardon”. Maybe she would be back, maybe she wouldn’t be back. She had no idea.

She followed Childeric out into the hallway, between the stairs and the bathroom. Now she could see him clearly, but that didn’t help. He was dressed for a formal afternoon, and not at all in mourning, not even a black armband. The cut was up to the mode, but the colours were far more common to Albion than to the non-magical. He wore a deep brown coat that brought out the highlights in his hair, trousers two precise shades lighter, and a waistcoat of golden brocade. All of it hinted at rich earth, and all complemented his hair, which fell loosely over the top of his shoulders.

“It’s good to see you, Childeric.” She swallowed. “I’m so confused, though, about?—”

“Thessaly.” He took her hand, pressing it to his lips and not letting her finish the sentence. “I’m so sorry I’ve not been in touch. It’s simply been one thing after another. Don’t ask Aunt Laudine about Uncle Dagobert, please. It’s been such a trial, trying to find a Healer who understands discretion, and proper attendants str - up to the task.” Thessaly was not sure in the moment if he’d meant to make that slip - strong, surely? - or whether he’d actually done so accidentally.

And she realised, in the moment, that there was no apology for the demand, none for making her show up early with no idea what to expect. There was nothing that was treating her as anything other than a playing piece on the board. Whatever the game he was playing was. Or whatever the game the Fortiers were playing was.

Her role in this was to duck her head and say something appropriate. “Oh no, I had no idea. How horrible! I do hope he recovers soon.”

She barely got that out before Childeric was talking again over her last few words. “Now, Thess, I know you’re going to be very pleased with what we’re about to announce. That’s why I wanted you to be here for it. Of course, in ordinary circumstances, you’d be down beside me. But I thought you’d at least want to hear it in the moment, so we can talk about it later.”

Before she could ask what he meant - she felt very much as if she’d missed at least six things she ought to know about - he tugged at her hand. He pulled her closer with a force that refused to let her resist and kissed her cheek. “Must go. I need to welcome our guests. We’ll be starting at two.” And then he had dropped her hand and disappeared back down the stairs, leaving her alone. At least that meant she could duck into the water closet again and tidy her hair and peer at her face in the mirror. She considered, then added an illusion to smooth out her features and mute any twitches of expression she might not actually want to show. Then she squared her shoulders and went back to the gallery.

“I beg pardon, Mistress Fortier.” Thessaly sat again, automatically arranging her skirts. In the interim, more tea had arrived, and Laudine Fortier had poured for both of them, though she’d left the sugar and cream uncovered. Thessaly added sugar to hers, before looking up.

“You are marrying in. Please call me Laudine.” It wasn’t uncommon, in that kind of relationship, not that Thessaly would dare address Childeric’s mother by her bare first name without an invitation given several times. But Laudine was wife to the younger son, and also younger than Dagobert, only about a decade older than Thessaly herself. The offer was very likely being made for several reasons. But if Laudine wished to make a bridge to the next generation that way, accepting it would at least provide some additional information. Probably.

“Laudine.” Thessaly repeated it. “Thank you.” She couldn’t admit her utter ignorance of why she was here, could she? That would reflect badly on someone, and it was as likely to be Thessaly as Childeric. Such things flowed off him like water off a duck’s back. “Childeric said he had to go greet the guests. We’d be starting at two?”

“Yes.” The answer didn’t help. There was no new information there. Then Laudine went on. “There is a charm near the far end. See that vase behind the chairs? It will project what’s said near it up here, more clearly. We’ll be able to hear quite well. No room for misunderstanding.”

That hit home, and Thessaly considered the merits and flaws of throwing herself on Laudine’s goodwill, and seeing if she could get an explanation of any kind. Doing so would be admitting to a number of things. It would mean showing weakness, and as a duellist she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Certainly she couldn’t risk it without being able to retreat to a stronger position immediately afterward. And she didn’t have a stronger position to work with.

Instead, Laudine went on after a well-mannered and precisely measured pause. “I can’t leave Dagobert for long right now. But I also thought you might like a little company, someone who understands the challenges of marrying into a family like the Fortiers. I remember how intimidated I was, and honestly, still am.” As she finished speaking, the Dowager Lady Chrodechildis entered. She was wearing a stunning afternoon gown of deep gold and purple that echoed Childeric’s waistcoat and hair. Laudine nodded down at her. “My mother-in-law, for example.”

There was a note there, just for a second, the kind of thing that could be read half a dozen ways, that made Thessaly sure there was hatred there, or something close enough to it. And, she thought, recent, there had been nothing like that at the betrothal, or the other social events since. “I am fairly sure the entire family practices being intimidating. Like Childeric practices being charming.” She kept her voice even, she thought, but Laudine raised an eyebrow.

“He has spent less time with you since the betrothal, I gather, and not much since - I am so sorry about your aunt, my dear. I gather the eulogies were lovely at the funeral. So many people recognised her as a sharp-eyed and intelligent woman. There was a great deal to aspire to, watching her.” Laudine’s voice had an odd note to it again, but this one was utterly baffling to Thessaly, so she only nodded, her attention focused on the guests she could see.

Like any well-trained woman of the Great Families, she could identify many of the relevant guests at an angle and a height. The Deschamps family was not there, nor anyone else of their tier - though she admitted she’d looked first for Vitus. But all of the direct client families were at least represented. There were dozens of people in attendance, standing in loose groups in the Great Hall. They could hear more conversation from near the opposite end of the room, as Lord Clovis and Lady Maylis joined his mother, and then Childeric made his way up.

Precisely at two, she was sure, a gong sounded, reverberating through the room. Then Lord Clovis spoke, everyone falling silent and his voice amplified until it was almost uncomfortable. “Family, friends, and allies, we welcome you here to Arundel on this glorious summer afternoon. The weather could not be better, the sun could not shine brighter. We gather today to announce that my eldest son, Childeric, has been accepted as a challenger for the open Council seat, upon the autumnal equinox.”

Thessaly couldn’t hear anything else for a moment, struggle though she might. There was a rushing in her ears. She felt faint. It was good she was already sitting down. Her fingers tightened on the arm of the chair, and if she’d been able to see her hands, they’d have been white to the knuckles. She forced herself to breathe with all the discipline of the physical she’d learned in the duelling salle. She counted it out relentlessly in her head until her body remembered how again.

“.... ask that you, who wish the family well, will lend your arts in preparing my son for this challenge. Of course he will triumph. He is the best and brightest of his generation, bred to the ancient magics. Now he is reaching for new forms of arcane understanding, like all the Fortiers before him, stretching back to the Conquest. And, we are sure, with his marriage to come, for countless generations to come.”

There was a murmur from the crowd, and then Childeric stepped forward. “I am honoured at the opportunity, especially while I am yet so young. Naturally, I wish to lend the strength of my magic to the lands beyond our own estates. I am sure magic herself will grant me every success.”

Thankfully, the speeches - brief as they were - were over, and it appeared to be time for Childeric and his parents to circulate. Laudine opened her mouth once, then settled back with a quiet. “Perhaps, in due course, when it is appropriate for you and my husband is more recovered, you might call for some further conversation, if you wish?”

Thessaly nodded, grateful not to have to navigate the conversation. She could hear snatches of comment now, only when people approached to speak with Lady Chrodechildis. One bit stuck with her, though. Two.

“What have you heard about the other challenges, then? I suppose there’s no actual competition.” That was Jacquetta Montague, a cousin twice over to the Fortiers, once by marriage.

Pascal, her husband, scoffed. “No one of note, I’m sure you’d agree, Lady Chrodechildis.” He was showing off, flattering beyond reason. “I’ve heard Cyrus Smythe-Clive means to make a go of it, but honestly, he’s lost all sense since the death of his wife. Perhaps he finds that an easier way to end himself than anything else. Not a man made of bravery. And I heard something about Theo Carrington. There was a bit of gossip about him asking around about talisman makers, but surely someone who has skills, like Childeric, won’t need that sort of thing.”

Thessaly had already had a proper respect for a well-made talisman, but the last week of sleep had made her sure of it. She bit her lip, turning her head so Laudine couldn’t see. She thought a talisman from a competent maker could do quite a bit of good, even if no one was sure what happened in the challenge itself. Perhaps she’d ask Vitus about it at some point. She’d not seen him since he’d given it to her, just exchanged a note each. She’d had a terrible time getting a note out without being obvious about it.

Eventually, the conversation faded down, and the guests dispersed to refreshments and more conversation in the garden. Laudine slipped out when that happened, murmuring that someone would come escort Thessaly out in due course. And adding, just before she left, “I do hope we’ll have time to talk further. When you’re ready.”

That escort turned out to be ages later, near half-four, when one of the footmen came and walked her out. There was no one visible at all as she made her way to the portal. None of the family, none of the staff, as if everyone had disappeared. The entire afternoon left Thessaly feeling like she was missing several key pieces of information, while having others shouted in her face. She certainly didn’t like how she felt about Childeric at the moment, or how his entire family had managed this announcement.