Chapter 3 #2
Heat crept up my spine. Crossing my arms over my breasts, I stepped from the basin, dried myself, and returned home.
Elion was still at his desk, writing. I prepared dinner, then dragged his chair to the table, his weight resisting every inch. Apparently, I was the only one with working limbs tonight.
“Eat. I’m sick of you staring at that journal all day. What are you writing that’s so important?”
He shoveled the food into his mouth with unusual haste. Unease stirred low beneath my ribs. Something as trivial as a gathering rarely unsettled him.
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with at this time,” he said without meeting my eyes.
We finished in silence, but his behavior stayed with me—the closer evening crept, the more my nerves began to fray.
As the sun sank, I reluctantly went to my room to prepare. I slipped into the silk and tied the golden sash beneath my chest. I had no jewels to speak of, but it hardly mattered. My hair, drawn into a high ponytail, drew enough attention on its own.
Elion wore deep blue formal attire, his Bondward insignia polished and pinned to his chest. I set my nerves aside as I draped a cloak over my shoulders and took his arm. Together, we stepped through the door to face the evening.
We made our way through the Traders Quarter, our steps slowing as the Aedile’s villa rose before us, burning with light. Legionnaires stood watch outside, clad in regal armor polished to a mirror sheen.
Golden leaves traced every archway as we crossed beneath them toward the entrance hall.
Candles crowned each structure, and the Imperator’s banners draped every marble column.
Even from outside, music spilled into the street.
I’d never seen so much gold gathered in one place. Subtlety was clearly not a virtue here.
As we mounted the steps, servants bowed, raising their hands for our cloaks. In the garden, several guests stood draped in finery, cups of wine overflowing in their hands, their laughter loud and careless. We had only just arrived, and they were already drunk.
Impressive restraint.
Beyond the threshold, tables piled high with roasted meats glazed in honey, jeweled fruits, and sugared pastries—more abundance than most in our quarter saw in a season.
Elion took my hands and stepped in front of me. “Breathe. This is your first time attending a golden-pierced gathering, but you will be expected to do so many times in the future, so consider this an opportunity to practice keeping your temper. Stay close, as you promised.”
“Greetings, my dear Elion! How good of you to join us.”
A man stepped forward with a practiced smile, a woman at his side taking me in before her chin lifted in open disdain. She wore emerald silk adorned with gold embroidery. Her coal-dark hair was coiled high upon her head, not a strand out of place. Her face was symmetrical but utterly unremarkable.
“Ah, greetings, Tiberion. It has been too long. How have you been? This is my niece and apprentice, Valentina Greenwillow.”
“Valentina, this is the Aedile of Caelora, Tiberion Valystor.”
“Ah. How lovely you are. Welcome, my dear.” He grasped my hand and kissed it. “Please, enjoy yourself. This is my wife, Cassara. I trust she will make you feel most welcome while I drag your uncle away and force him to regale me with tales of the Maw.”
Elion’s hand brushed my arm as he was led away. “You’re doing well. I’ll be close,” he murmured in passing, then followed the Aedile, leaving me alone with Cassara.
I turned to her with an open expression.
“My,” she said, covering her mouth as she regarded me down the length of her nose. “You make quite a bold entrance.”
I kept my smile in place. “It’s an honor to be here, My Lady,” I said. “Thank you for hosting us. The Praetor was most gracious to invite us.”
“Yes, I envy Aelia such a husband. He is a diamond among men.” I caught the gleam of something like adoration in her eyes.
No blame there. The Aedile was unremarkable to look upon, his dark hair already thinning and his belly betraying too much indulgence in food and wine, and he was considerably older than Cassara.
“Are you talking behind my back again, Cassara?” a silken voice cut between us as a woman draped in pale ivory stepped to my side.
She was beautiful, but not in a gentle way.
Her curled brown hair was braided through with gems that caught the light as she moved, and though she appeared younger than Cassara, there was nothing youthful in the steadiness of her blue eyes.
I knew she could only be the Praetor’s wife, Aelia.
A flicker of relief stirred when I realized the Praetor wasn’t at her side. For once, fortune seemed inclined in my favor. Perhaps this evening wouldn’t be so terrible after all.
“So this is the apprentice,” the woman murmured. “How charming. My name is Aelia. Praetor Decimus Muraena is my husband.”
She measured the fall of my dress and the set of my shoulders as she added, “My husband has spoken of you. He says you are quite talented.”
“You are most kind. It is an honor to meet you, My Lady.”
“Dear child,” Cassara said after a moment. “You must feel very insignificant, working side by side with the finest Bondward in the city.”
My temper rose before I could stop it. “I—”
Elion coughed behind me. He didn’t look at me, still absorbed in the Aedile’s tale, but the warning landed all the same. My hands had curled into fists. I forced them open.
Aelia and Cassara watched me, their smiles poised. I tried again. “I feel very fortunate. He is the best mentor I could have hoped for.”
Cassara’s mouth shifted. “Yes. You are most fortunate, and so incredibly beautiful. Don’t you agree, Aelia?”
“Indeed. Youth and beauty are such generous gifts. They draw attention effortlessly, especially when paired with promise rather than accomplishment. Enjoy it while you can. Few are fortunate enough to stand so close to greatness, even briefly.”
I hadn’t even been here an hour, and already my cheeks ached from holding a smile in place.
Maybe I should join the others outside. Their drunken stupidity might be a relief.
I counted to three, then spoke. “I have learned that promise is only ever proven through devotion and endurance—qualities that tend to outlast youth. I intend to make myself useful for quite some time.”
Aelia lifted her cup. “Well spoken.” She turned to Cassara. “You’ll notice our guest is without wine. Be a gracious hostess and show Valentina where she might quench her thirst.”
Cassara guided me deeper into the villa, snapping her fingers to summon a servant.
She didn’t so much as look at them. A girl with downturned eyes appeared with a cup of wine.
I took it and thanked her. Her face flickered with surprise at being acknowledged.
I took a small sip. The flavor burst across my tongue, rich enough that I resolved to pace myself.
Cassara drifted away. I surveyed the room as guests lounged on ornate couches and the wine flowed freely, the noise swelling until it pressed against my thoughts. Elion and I were the only ones with silver piercings, aside from the iron-pierced servants.
I moved to a far corner and set my back against the wall, keeping the room in view. My gaze met Elion’s over the rim of my cup, and he dipped his head.
The men around him drew him easily into their orbit, eager for his opinions and the stories he carried, no doubt hoping for recountings of the Maw’s brutality.
Before long he was claimed by another circle and guided toward a group of women, their hands fastening around his arm as they urged him on.
With each new demand he was drawn farther from me.
The distance between us stretched, thread by fragile thread.
A servant passed with a tray of pastries, and I accepted one, hoping the food would steady the wine before it loosened my restraint.
“Valentina! I’ve found you at last! You look splendid in my creation. If anyone asks, do be sure to tell them where you acquired it. Forgive my manners—are you enjoying yourself, my dear?” Sartelis seized my hand and patted it, the gesture so earnestly paternal it bordered on theatrical.
“Sartelis! How lovely to see you. I must say, even though we only met today, it is comforting to see a face I recognize.”
“Yes, these evenings can be quite overwhelming, but don’t be afraid, dear—you fit right in.” He leaned closer. “Every man in here has his eye on you. Look.”
He was right. Several people were watching me. I blushed.
“They admire the gown you have made, I am sure of it.”
“Don’t be so modest, my dear. You are radiant—not for me, I have other tastes, and I intend to indulge them presently. Enjoy yourself.” He winked and, with a swirl of his robes, left me standing there, awkwardly avoiding the men’s inviting looks.
I spent most of the evening near the wall, careful to remain within Elion’s line of sight. Several men approached me, and I met them with polite smiles, declining invitations to join them on a private balcony. Elion’s reputation alone ensured they didn’t overstay their welcome.
Lutes played softly, with harps weaving between them.
The rhythm loosened my shoulders, and the hours slipped by more easily than I had expected, each moment blurring into the next as the wine settled warmly in my veins.
For a moment, I thought the night might pass without incident. Then the atmosphere shifted.
The musicians swelled into a livelier refrain as reed pipes joined the melody, climbing higher and higher until it sounded almost primal.
Laughter rose with it. Conversations grew louder, wine sloshed from overflowing goblets, and guests pressed closer together as restraint dissolved beneath the music.
Goosebumps prickled over my arms as the tempo quickened again, faster and louder, until all at once it ceased.
A door opened to my right, and applause broke out, voices rising in bright, eager cheers.