Chapter Six - Izzy
Chapter Six - Izzy
The days passed in relative peace. Remy was a quick study, but there were often times where he’d become fixed on one particular point and it would stop the instruction dead in its tracks.
“So you have built-in parties for each branch?”
“It’s become sort of a way of relieving stress from a long running season, yes. And it’s where the young courtiers meet and get to know each other. Lots of networking happens during these events. It’s a time for us to celebrate with the entire empire,” Izzy replied, ignoring his skeptical gaze. “What, is there never any deal-making at fetes in Onson?”
“No, I just think that you’re overestimating how much can get done at a party like that. People are drunken and debauched. I hardly think any meaningful interactions are made or acted upon.”
Izzy sighed, throwing her hands up. “Just work with me, Remy, please, for once.”
Remy gave her that smile, the one that made Izzy’s stomach twist and made her forget everything that was in her head. Damn this overgrown lizard. “Fine, Isabella, I’ll work with you.”
Izzy nodded, squeezing her hands together. “Anyway. There are also a number of events that the Imperial line holds separately, including a breakfast at the beginning of the court session for each primary, and a brunch towards the end, to close the season out.”
Remy nodded, pulling out his journal and quill. He’d filled pages and pages with notes in careful Draconic script; whenever they stopped, he would bundle up the most recent and send it back to the clerks in Onson. Even if at times he would turn up his nose or scoff at the ideas she presented, he was a dutiful note taker.
She wished that she read Draconic better. She wondered if any of his usual wry humor came across in those pages. After a moment, the carriage rolled to a stop.
“Your Highness, Vicomte. We have a small problem,” Aldric said.
“Problem?” she asked, opening the door.
“Ah… yes,” Aldric said.
Remy rolled his eyes, getting out of the carriage. Izzy settled her skirts about her and hopped out of the carriage after him.
They had been traveling for at least five or six days now, stopping at little roadside inns in the middle of nowhere. This was the first time they’d been in a true town in days, and they both had been looking forward to a stay in a tavern with more amenities.
Well, at least that was the plan. Instead, they were looking at a mass of people, carriages, and carts—more people than they’d seen all at one time since they left Onson, but they were perhaps still a half-day’s carriage ride from Carillon.
Remy sighed, leaning forwards as he set his claws on his hips. “Is there a festival?”
“I suppose we’ll find out,” Izzy murmured, and started to walk toward the next set of carriages.
Remy let out something like an undignified squawk as he followed. “Princess, you cannot just knock on whatever random carriage you find.”
“Can’t I?” Izzy asked, and did just that.
“What happened to your propriety?” Remy blustered.
Izzy shrugged. “Decorum is necessary, but sometimes you have to be a bit more practical. We need information, and that comes from asking our fellow travelers.”
By the fourth carriage, they’d put the pieces together. Apparently one of the minor nobles within Carillon had a son who was celebrating his coming of age. As such, people from all over the continent had arrived into town to witness it. By the eighth carriage, they had a size of the scale. Perhaps two hundred guests were descending upon Carillon. And while the most prominent among them would stay at the estate, their retinues and servants would be staying within the main city. Which meant that almost every inn, tavern, and hostel would be filled.
As Remy walked away from the last carriage with a shake of his head, Izzy sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to head to the embassy then.”
~*~
There was nothing wrong with the Aurelian embassy; quite the contrary. It was a neat, cozy little house that had some of the same architectural designs as Schloss Heufallen in Lumin. But upon arrival, Lord Otto Duncan advised them that they weren’t the only Aurelians that had had the same idea upon traveling through the town.
Aldric had ended up in the stable house on a makeshift hammock that was warm enough.
Izzy and Remy, however, stood looking at the last bedroom in the embassy, with its large four poster bed.
Its sole four-poster bed.
Remy looked at her. Izzy looked at the bed.
A high, nervous laugh escaped her lips.
“I can sleep in the carriage,” Remy offered.
“It’s barely twenty degrees out. And as far as I remember, you are not one of the dragonkin that enjoys the cold.”
“No, I am not.”
Izzy let her mind spin. “So we will make do.”
Remy nodded. “I… ah, yes. Only…”
“Yes?”
“There’s only one bed.”
She looked up at him. “Oh, so you’ve caught up, then?”
Remy looked anywhere but Izzy.
She smiled. “If you didn’t have scales, I swear you’d be blushing.”
Remy huffed, “I am not blushing.”
“Of course,” Izzy said, moving towards her own trunk.
She really shouldn’t find the situation so amusing—perhaps she did because Remy’s clear embarrassment and flustering was so unexpected. If Laurentino, or anyone, discovered she’d shared a bed with the dragonkin ambassador, without the proper courtship initiation, it would be quite the scandal. But it wasn’t as though she was planning on sleeping outside.
“Let’s call for dinner,” Remy said. “Unfortunately I don’t think the fare will be as hearty as it was before.”
“How can you even think of food at a time like this?” Izzy asked.
“Everything’s better with food. Would you like me to start the fire? Or shall I call someone up?”
“What? Fire?” Izzy turned back to the bed. “But—”
“Princess, please.” He turned towards the logs. “It’s not as if we’re going to be naked.”
“Remy, please,” Izzy replied, mimicking his tone. “I don’t know about you, but my imagination allows me to paint a picture regardless of how many clothes someone else is wearing.”
Remy’s gaze snapped down to her, eyes widening, before he all but darted towards his own luggage. “By the gods.”
“You are blushing.” Izzy said, astounded.
“Try not to look so pleased,” Remy growled, removing his thick traveling cloak. Beneath it, he only wore the sleeveless leather tunic embossed with its crusily pattern, the point of each cross dotted with a small gold rivet. “Fire, then dinner. Fire first.”
He moved towards the fireplace. Izzy focused on her own clothes, withdrawing her robe and her night shifts from her trunk before she heard a terrible cracking sound. She turned to see Remy rip apart a log with his own claws, as if it was made of nothing more than paper.
Remy tossed the pieces into the fireplace, and grabbed another log. She watched, transfixed, as he ripped the wood in two again. Her eyes dragged across the breadth of his shoulders as his leathery bronze scales shifted over the muscles of his arms.
With the logs placed, Remy conjured a small lick of lightning and set them ablaze. Pleased, he set his hands on his hips and thumped his tail, watching the flame catch. The room began to soften and warm. That must be why she was suddenly so flushed. She’d say sweltering, even, but that made no sense as the fire was only just lit.
Izzy tried to look away from Remy, but found it an impossible task. So she talked instead. “Besides, we have quite a bit to do before we even think about bed. We were in the middle of talking about the different branches, after all.”
“Right,” Remy said slowly. “Well, that can wait until food. Since you are so hungry.”
Izzy nodded, her gaze lingering on his sculpted jawline and his pleasant amber eyes. She wondered how his mandible would feel beneath her fingers, the texture of his hide against her soft fingertips. “Parched, as well.”
“Unacceptable,” he rumbled, and then strode off towards the door. “Stay here—I’ll get us refreshments. Change if you’d like. I’ll knock when I return.”
“Right.” Izzy stared at the door after he left, lowering herself to sit on the bed and setting a hand on her chest. What in Nyman’s name was happening to her?
~*~
By the time Remy returned, Izzy had talked herself down, reflected on her earlier state, decided that there was no room for that sort of hysterical nonsense, and returned to her books.
Remy set down two platters of meats, cheeses, and stone fruits, with flaky and tender whitefish, paired with a soft white bread and a fresh bowl of butter. “It’s definitely not poule au pot, but it smells good,” Remy murmured, placing a bottle of crisp white wine on the table—a Chupan from Talemtia—on the table with his tail.
Izzy opened up the wine, pouring it into the two glasses that she’d fished out of the cabinet earlier. She took a sip as Remy settled in his own chair. Together they made light talk, picking through the meats and cheeses.
“I can’t believe the staff is so sparse within the house. Is that normal for all Aurelian embassies?”
“I suppose if you’re not used to it, it can look like a surprise,” Izzy said, popping one of the apricots into her mouth. “I think that normally it’s a little more highly populated, but right now, a lot of the staff have probably been sent to aid in the festivities.”
“Interesting. I suppose on the outskirts there may be fewer people to assist,” Remy murmured.
Izzy nodded, sipping the wine. It was a dry one, but it was merely adequate. She was still dying for a good Rintling. “So, what would you like to do next?”
Remy shrugged, finishing off one of the whitefish filets in one go and looking over his notes slowly. “I suppose that instead of doing something like more notes or anything of the sort, you could quiz me. Or, instead, I could practice against you, let you know what I’ve learned, so you can see where the gaps are within my learning.” he said.
Izzy nodded, looking over him. “I think you’re a remarkable talent so far. Do you really think there are any gaps left for me?”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Remy said, his voice low and amused.
Izzy nodded and leaned backwards, crossing one leg over the other as she pulled her cap off, letting her long auburn hair fall from its intricate pinning, combing through it with her fingers so it settled into loose curls. She heard a soft hum from Remy and saw his eyes focused on her hair, before he shook himself out of his reverie.
“Yes,” he said. “I suppose I should start with the Council of Coin then.”
“Yes, thats a good place to start, as always,” Izzy nodded.
Remy began rattling off information. “Responsible for the purse strings of the empire, they are typically composed mainly from the imperial branch, but other members from throughout the empire can assist. I think they are second only to the Caller’s office, which oversees the rituals, regalia, and protocol.”
“That’s me,” Izzy smiled. “There’s a small group of us as well. But there’s always work to be done. I’m sure it will be chaos when we get back into the city. There are so many people who will need something from me, I doubt I’m even going to be able to see you for the first few days we arrive in town.”
Remy frowned. “That is a problem with delegation. Surely the whole of the empire should not crumble just because one person took an extended vacation.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Izzy said. “My office is very capable, but I don’t think that they’d be able to do much without me if I was laid up here for longer than I have been.”
“Is that a you problem or a them problem?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
Remy shrugged. “I mean, are you forced to do this because they are incompetent, or do you choose to do this because you feel you would handle it better.”
Izzy colored at that, sitting up straight. “Excuse me?”
“There’s no offense meant, Isabella. I simply meant that you should try to see what tools you have available at your disposal, and work to make sure that the empire will still stand when you need your earned time away.”
“That isn’t the point. I have all year to have my time off.”
Remy shook his head. “Not from what I’ve seen. There are council meetings all year. Some meet multiple times when you aren’t in Yaventown, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, but as I informed you, most people only sit on one council at a time,” she said. “Do you remember?”
Remy waved her off. “No, it’s not about that. You see, if that was the case, I wouldn’t be as worried. But each of those councils has their own meetings, their own minutes. Each branch has their own meetings, their own procedures. They all send word to the Caller’s office. The Caller’s office updates the slate after each meeting. But the meetings all run at their own cadences.”
He moved to his trunk, pulling out one of his journals. “Look here—the Council of Coin meets every other month, but the Council of Health and Happiness meets more regularly, perhaps every four weeks. Then the Council of Labor—”
“The Council for the Productivity of the Populace.” Izzy corrected.
“Yes, yes, that,” he said impatiently. “They meet every three months. And then the Council for the Emperor’s Sword meets, and I quote, ‘whenever there is enough to meet about’, sometimes as often as bi-weekly. Which means you could, in theory, be getting minutes once a week that have to be read, analyzed, and interpreted, and then the slate has to be changed.”
Izzy stopped. “Well yes, but that doesn’t take much time at all, at least I don’t think.”
“But you never have time off.” Remy said, setting his hand on the book and then looking back to her. “Are you saying that, as we’ve been traveling for a tenday and a half already, and you were traveling for a month before that, that no one’s been doing this work?”
Izzy thought for a moment. “No. I simply told them to leave it organized on my desk until I returned, that I would go through all of the notes and adjust the slate accordingly. It saved them from having to figure out wherever I’d gone and sending them to me. It’s so easy for a courier to miss us, or us to have to change plans or divert.”
Remy gave an impatient laugh that had her face coloring. “But surely,” he sighed, flipping back. “There should be at least half a dozen other people who are there. Why can’t each of them take two of the councils and you take the Council of Coin and the Emperor’s Sword, and then they can set the slates?”
“Because that’s supposed to be my position,” Izzy said. “Perhaps I didn’t explain it right. We can go through it again, but—”
“No, I understand what you do. But I’m saying why bother having a council at all, if they can’t be trusted to do the work when you’re gone?”
Izzy shook her head. “I’m not sure of your meaning,”
Remy huffed, getting to his feet, his tail thumping the floor behind him as he paced. “Let the others take it. Let them help you. Otherwise what happens when you fall apart?”
“I’ve never fallen apart.” Izzy snapped, standing. “I am an efficient Caller.”
“I know, but this is too much work for one person.”
“It’s the work I was chosen to do, and I do it with grace. It’s an honor and a privilege to do this for my family.”
“And what do you get in return? Besides the accolades? Isn’t it just stress?”
“It’s what we do. My family—”
“But what about you?” Remy asked. “When do you get to rest?”
“What I need is inconsequential!” Izzy snapped, and she could feel the shrillness in her voice as the conversation spiraled out of her control. It was clear that Remy had lost some connective tissue along the way. There were pieces that he wasn’t putting together. That had to be it, right? It was her responsibility. Which meant she took it alone.
Remy leaned back for a moment. “I suppose we should move to a different topic. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to lose my temper, it’s only that I think that I don’t think I’ve explained myself right. I am the first face many courtiers see. I’m the one they look to, other than the emperor, to represent Aurelia, to represent Vinitore, my branch, my home. I would never deign to consider myself as important as the emperor, not by a long margin. But I will say that my job is of tantamount importance. And so I will carefully perform the duties which my house has entrusted to me. I will ensure that the tasks are done well and efficiently. My clerks, my staff, the other courtiers within my team do other important tasks. They… correspond with the branches during the season, they update archaic or outdated rules with my approval, they ensure that the branch meetings are being held in alignment with our rules. And they help with other affairs during the season, including setting the schedule for the non-slated business that happens in the individual council-rooms. I couldn’t do it without them, can’t. But there are some things that are far, far too important to leave to minor courtiers.”
Remy stared at her for a moment, and Izzy felt like he was looking straight into her heart, trying to count how many times it would beat. “Gods above, you’re serious.”
“I take nothing more seriously,” Izzy said, and then sighed. “I’m feeling tired.”
“I’m sure,” Remy said, and then got to his feet. “Please, get changed, get into bed. I’ll take care of these dishes, of everything, and then we can both settle down. It’s been a long day of traveling and I think we’ve both reached our limit.”
Izzy nodded, watching him leave. She felt for her signet ring, twisting it gently as she heard the door click close.
Numbly, she started to change, her night shift feeling all at once much too thin, too short, too revealing. Even if it didn’t show any of her chest, her hips, anything, there was something so foreign, about sharing a bed with another. Too intimate. Especially not with someone like Remy, a member of another noble house, with whom there’d been no romantic ties. Even if they were still on the outskirts of the empire, there was a whole list of rules about courtship. But this wasn’t really courtship, not really. They were merely peers sharing a carriage. So she didn’t have to worry about a chaperone keeping watch and reporting back.
She had been putting on a brave show earlier, but she supposed that now there really was no getting around it. She knew that at home, this wasn’t done. But she had shared a bed with her sisters once, when their father had taken all of the children out to the small cabin on the outskirts of their lands. How was this any different?
Finally, she just shook herself out of her thoughts, centering herself back in the present. “It is what it is, Izzy. Set the ground rules and be done with it. No getting out of it now.”
She heated up a small water pouch and placed it at the foot of the bed under the covers, and then bundled her hair up into one thick braid and curled it around her neck, before pulling the covers as high as she could without disappearing beneath them. At first, she half-expected Remy to come barreling through the door as soon as she started to get comfortable. But it was nearly an hour later when she heard the door open. Izzy had prayed and then started to drift off. So she simply heard Remy open his trunk, and the rustle of fabric as it slid against his scales.
Then, the bed groaned as the weight of him impacted it. The bed was sturdily made, but even so, she felt the shifting as he got settled himself. He seemed to have retrieved extra blankets, enough to cover himself. He curled his tail around his own waist.
Instantly, the room felt too hot, the bed too small. It wasn’t that he was trying to take up space; in fact, quite the opposite. She was surprised that a being as big as Remy, with all those scales, and claws and… well, him, seemed to be able to share a bed with her.
He was certainly trying to be a respectful guest, and as Izzy settled back in, as her eyes started to close, she couldnt help but wonder what it would feel like if he did reach out to her, if he did pull her close.
On that ridiculous thought, Izzy drifted off to sleep.
~*~
Izzy wasn’t sure what time of the day it was when she woke up; all she knew was that dim gray light had started to filter into the windows. In the winter it was difficult to put together exactly when the sun rose. Especially with all the travel that they’d been doing for the past few weeks, it was easy to understand how people could truly go time blind.
She slowly became aware of quite a few things.
The first: She was most certainly not in her bed at home. The mattress was harder, firmer, and the canopy had been pulled away to make sure that she wouldn’t be completely disoriented after waking up.
The second: She was most certainly unbearably warm. While it had been pleasant in the cool of the evening, now that she’d been asleep for who knew how many hours, she felt like she was waking up in a pool of her own sweat. It was decidedly not the best way to start off the morning. Perhaps the water heater had been a poor choice.
The third: There was most certainly an arm wrapped around her torso. She blanched at that, as all the pieces of last night returned to her, and took more careful stock of all of her parts. And all of his.
Currently, the Vicomte Remy Legrand of Branch Caillan, Canopy of Distant Blooms, newly coined, had his arm wrapped around her torso, preventing her from dropping off of the bed. Apparently at some point last night, they had both moved, and Remy had sought to protect her from falling. She felt the crush of his chest, strong and broad, behind her. Additionally, Izzy was very, very aware of how his tail had wrapped around her bare thigh. Her shift had… well, shifted as well, and she could feel the taut muscle of his tail squeezing her thigh gently.
She was smart enough to know that the flush of her cheeks and heat between her legs was not just from sweat. Her eyes widened.
Oh, no. This couldn’t happen.
Izzy attempted to escape the situation delicately. First, she pulled his tail, with its smooth scales and coiled muscle, away from her thigh (and was surprised to miss it immediately) and then attempted to pull his arm away.
Unfortunately, and fascinatingly, Remy’s forearm was like a vice grip, and she found it difficult to move him. As soon as she pulled a claw or two away from her abdomen, he’d curl even more protectively around her, tugging her into his embrace. Luckily a stray pillow had moved in the night, or else she was sure she would also be far, far too familiar with Remy’s anatomy below the belt as well. Did he even wear a belt?
“Oh, gods,” Izzy whispered, half in horror, as she gave up. With all the grace of a trout on land, Izzy shimmied out of his grasp, pushing down and trying to slip out. It was a bit of a tight fit until her shoulders were through, but all at once, she felt her hold on the bed weaken, and she started to fall, landing in a mass of blankets and pillows as she dropped onto the ground.
Remy woke with a start. “Wait, who’s there—Izzy?”
Izzy was mortified. His voice still sounded rich and deep, like she’d roused him from a sound slumber. It did the most delicious things to her body, and she wrapped herself tighter in the blankets out of shock. “Just me!”
Remy took a deep breath and looked her over, eyes widened. “Did you just fall out of bed?”
At first, Izzy felt like she wanted to shrink until she was so small she could slip between the floorboards. But Remy’s laugh, surprisingly rich and deep and musical, was enough to have her laughing as well. “Well, someone didn’t feel the need to let me go. What sort of gentleman has a lady all bound up and unable to escape, anyway?”
Remy laughed harder, falling back onto the bed. “I apologize for that, but you’re putting it on me to address what my body does when its master is away?”
“Yes. I am perfectly capable of controlling all of my faculties at all times!”
“Says the girl on the floor,” Remy said, turning and standing up as he shook his head. “Weren’t you the one who told us that ‘we could make do?’ You seem to be contradictory, Princess. Perhaps the most contrary princess I’ve ever met,” he laughed again, and looked her over. “But I suppose you’re one of the only princesses I’ve met, so that’s only fair. Maybe my Onsonian ways are rubbing off on you.” He moved quickly to help her out of the sheets.
Izzy thanked him as she stood, saw that he wasn’t wearing much of anything at all, and gaped. It was probably the least clothed she’d seen him on the whole trip. Her eyes lingered on the soft shimmer of his bronze scales, and she noted, for the first time, that his underbelly had a brighter scale pattern, almost like gold there. It made him look similar to the little sand lizards that she’d seen out on the stone tiles of Dexmaro when she’d gone to visit her father and mother.
He was wearing pants, soft dark blue breeches that left a small hole for his tail in the back, and were made to fit over his backwards-facing knees—but then, she supposed he probably thought her knees were backwards instead. Her gaze dropped down to his claws, and she imagined the soft points of pressure they’d leave against her skin. Oh gods, what was happening to her?
He coughed once, and Izzy felt her eyes go upward, back to the broadness of his chest, the slight shift of his arms as he crossed them. She decided not to settle her gaze on the hollow of his throat as he swallowed; tried not to think about the way all those scales would feel beneath her hands as they shifted.
Even so, without any outside stimuli, her mind was wandering to how impossibly warm he’d been, and how strong and secure she’d felt when pulled into his arms. With a deep sigh, she decided to focus on his eyes, the warm amber color, the reptilian slant. Even now, they carried mirth, amusement, and something else she couldn’t quite place. She hoped for her sake it was enchantment and delight, and not pity. Regardless, what he thought of her was his business. She made sure her shift was adjusted back carefully, and forced herself to pull away from him.
“Well, you’ve seen me at my most vulnerable. I hope you’re satisfied.”
“Oh, perfectly satisfied. I had a wonderful night’s sleep and I didn’t end up on the floor.”
“I’m not sure if smug is a good look on you,” Izzy chided.
“Oh, it’s one of my best looks, only being overshadowed by triumphant and correct,” he said, and then sauntered towards his trunk.
Izzy was glad when he replaced his clothing, pulling out a muted gray tunic and a dark blue vest to cover himself. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Yes, now she could think straight.
“Do you think that we have time to stop in the town and get breakfast? Please say yes. This light fare is fine, but we have a long day ahead of us.”
“No, we have time. Always. What’s an hour in a month-long excursion?” she asked.
She decided on a dark green velvet gown that she’d bought the last time she was on vacation at the Linklater estate, and placed a dark gray wool sweater over it that she belted to keep in place. As they left Carillon and traveled down into Belliot, she would be able to take it off and adjust to the new climate.
Remy’s gaze dragged over her frame. She wondered, absurdly, if he was seeing her in her nightclothes still. He cleared his throat, shaking himself from his thoughts as he carefully pulled the bucket of water nearby, dousing the fire that still had embers from overnight.
“We should wake up young Aldric too. I’m sure that he’s tired of being up with the chickens,” he said, hefting both of their trunks up, one in each hand. Izzy looked at him and took a deep breath, sure that she could still see the way he looked without his clothes on, no matter how many layers he wore now.
Izzy held the door for him, and as they moved back towards the carriage, she decided that she would just have to figure out some other way to make sure they got two rooms, or, at the very least, two beds next time.
She wasn’t sure if she could take another night in the same bed with Remy LeGrand.