Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Spoiled
Satrine
“Darling!”
After shouting his endearment at me, the reins were tugged
from my gloved fingers so Loren could right the phaeton I was driving.
I noticed this vaguely, seeing as, following the carriage
that held Mom, Maxie and Aunt Mary, I’d taken the turn onto an avenue, and I’d
seen it.
And it being all it was, I lost track of what I was
doing with the horses.
“Good Gods, it’s amazing,” I whispered.
Mom’s carriage stopped in front of the block-long building.
Loren guided our phaeton behind it and came to a stop too.
I distractedly noted men wearing smart, blue uniforms loping
toward us from a small hut erected on the pavement, as I sensed Loren securing
the reins then turning to me.
But mostly, through all this, I sat staring.
“It took five years and was brought painstakingly, section
by section, by ship and then by land, and reconstructed here. The stone is so
heavy, they could only put one piece aboard one vessel at a time, and there are
twenty pieces. It was a scandal throughout the realm, not only the cost of that
task of bringing it here, but what the taxpayers of Newton had to pay the Dax
of Korwahk simply to have it,” he said.
I remained motionless in the carriage, attempting to take in
the enormous, exquisitely carved statue of a horse that stood at the front of
the long, stately building. He was up on his hind hooves, striking at the air,
his mane long and wild, his head proud and fierce, his nostrils flaring, and he
had to rise two, maybe even more stories up into the air.
Making him even more magnificent, his hooves looked to be
made of real gold, as were his bared teeth, not to mention the tips of his mane
and tail, but his eyes could be nothing else but humongous rubies.
There was decorative, but most assuredly tall, stout and
dangerous (what with all the spears on top) iron fence surrounding it, as well
as a contingent of those men in blue uniform.
My eyes drifted to Loren when he spoke again.
“It’s a statue of their horse god, and I’m told it isn’t
even the most superlative of them. That one, apparently, is on the road that
leads to their capital city of Korwahn,” Loren went
on.
I couldn’t imagine a better one. That was
impossible.
Loren wasn’t finished.
“This statue is guarded day and night and thousands of
people from all over Hawkvale, Lunwyn
and Fleuridia have taken the journey to Newton simply
to view it.”
“I can see why,” I replied. “I’ve never seen anything so…so…large.
And so beautifully rendered. And so…so…magnificently daunting. I mean,
it’s incredible, but it’s also terrifying, like he was a god at one point, and
he’s been turned to stone.”
And it was a “he.” They hadn’t left that part out in the
rendering.
Loren was smiling. “Most everyone, not Korwahkian,
are in concurrence. And the citizens of Newton complain no more, due to the
coin spent by visitors in our hotels, shops and restaurants. And now, as you
know, Newton’s Museum of Cultures has another feather in their cap, beating out
all others in the Northlands to show this exhibit of Firenz
tribal history. I’m not sure any museum anywhere has ever had an exhibit this
large of anything from Triton. It’s only recently, due to the Mar-el pirates
allowing passage after freeing the seas that made it possible.”
This being why we were there.
Multitasking, Loren was giving me a phaeton-driving lesson
on the way to see said exhibit.
“Don’t think I missed that you nearly took out that
unsuspecting milk cart,” Aunt Mary snapped.
Loren twisted and I looked down to see her standing by our
carriage under her black parasol, something she had open, even if her hat
shaded her entire body, and another half a foot in circumference besides. Her
ever-present handbag was dangling from her wrist (seriously, she was like the
Queen of England, she even brought that thing to the dinner table).
Last, her dour expression was aimed at me.
She adjusted her aim to Loren.
“I told you it was folly, teaching a woman to drive a
carriage. Did you listen?” She lifted her handbag in order to snap her fingers
irritably, if ineffectually, since her hands were in gloves. “No, you did not.”
“I was startled by the horse, Aunt Mary,” I told her.
“A pile of stones is hardly startling.”
A pile of stones?
I returned my attention to the horse.
The rubies in his eyes had to be bigger than my fist.
I looked back to Aunt Mary, losing a fight with a smile. “Do
we need to take you to have your vision examined?”
Her face screwed up and she turned back to Loren. “You spoil
my niece.”
At the same time he was alighting, Loren was nodding to a
blue uniform guy who apparently was there to see to our carriage.
Once to the sidewalk, he lifted his hand to me, I took it,
and he helped me down.
Only when he had me tucked to his side, did he turn to Aunt
Mary, and completely unperturbed, reply, “Indeed.”
I fought melting into a puddle of goo.
Maxie, standing close to Mom who was now beside Aunt Mary,
giggled.
I looked to her and winked.
“Just like your father,” Mary huffed. “He doted on your
mother. She was, fortunately for him, and, I daresay, us all, a
supremely sensible female, not a woman to have her head turned by such
imprudence, may she be held to the bosom of Brigid. Your sister, however, was
indulged beyond imagining. You were all very lucky she was so charming and of
such a sweet disposition, or it would have been the ruin of her.”
After delivering that, she snapped down her parasol, took it
by it folds, and shook the handle at me.
She then carried on.
“Mark that, girl,” she warned.
“Mary,” Mom said softly, before I could say something to
tease Aunt Mary.
And the way Mom spoke made me look to her.
When I did, and I saw how she was gazing at Loren, I turned
my head up to him.
His jaw was hard, his lips were tight, and my heart lurched.
“My boy,” Aunt Mary whispered, sounding contrite.
“It’s fine, Mary,” Loren said.
“I meant no—”
Loren didn’t let her finish. “As I said, it’s fine.”
Aunt Mary gave big eyes to Mom. Mom stretched her lips down
at Aunt Mary.
I struggled to think what to say while standing on a busy
sidewalk outside a museum.
“Can we go inside?” Maxine asked excitedly.
“Of course, poppet,” Loren murmured.
Maxine broke from Mom, came to Loren’s other side, hooked
her arm in his, and guided us both toward the museum in a way that seemed,
oddly, like she was saving him from Aunt Mary.
Beyond that, although in the last few days there had been a
marked change in her—it was evident she was getting used to all of us and her
reticence was quickly disappearing—that was in our zone of home and walks to
the shops and trips to the park.
We were now out in public, at a large, bustling museum, and
although she expressed her desire to come with us, and she was very animated
about that, we had all planned to keep a close eye on her to make sure she was
good with it.
From the way she charged forth, she was more than good with
it.
Which, I had to admit, was a relief, but it was also a
surprise.
The place was busy, but of course, there was VIP treatment
there too, and Loren availed us all of it.
Therefore, in no time, and with no bothering with the long
lines, we were in the thick of the exhibition that included terrifying swords,
bows and arrows that were obviously not mass-produced, but they looked far from
primitive, and bejeweled daggers. There were also intricately woven rugs,
exceptionally crafted silver chalices, extraordinary jewelry, startling mosaics
and even an enormous silk tent erected so you could go inside. And the interior
was so sumptuously appointed, I was rethinking Loren taking an ambassadorship.
Because if that was how they lived in Firenze, I was all in for the adventure.
It took a while, and me fielding a variety of see to
that! looks from my mother to get Loren to myself, away from the crowd
(which, not incidentally, but we were gamely ignoring it, were almost as
fascinated with us as they were with the exhibit), as well as away from Mom,
Aunt Mary and Maxie.
He and I were standing off to the side when I asked, “Are
you all right?”
He didn’t seem upset anymore. In fact, his face wore a fond
expression (yes, almost to the point of doting) as he watched Maxine’s
fascination with a painting on the back of a large hide that depicted a
mountain range and a huge, beautiful lake.
“Yes, of course, why?” he answered, but he didn’t take his
gaze from Maxine.
“Nothing,” I mumbled.
That earned me his attention.
“Why did you ask?” he pressed.
“Aunt Mary can be…”
He cut me off.
“They lived. People knew them. She’s not the only one to
speak of them.”
He was talking offhandedly, not to mention somewhat tersely,
about his mother and sister.
“She didn’t mean to sound insulting,” I assured. “She gives
backhanded compliments like no one I’ve ever met, because they’re completely
backhanded, but she actually means them as compliments.”
“I’m not angry at your aunt,” he stated firmly.
“Okay,” I whispered.
His lips twitched. “I do spoil you, though.”
“You do not,” I returned.
He looked around us, pointing out that it was the middle of
the day, and I had learned in finally getting to know my betrothed that he
wasn’t the idle rich. Although he was considering a future endeavor of serving
his king (again) in one manner or another—along with his side pursuits of being
a vigilante—he, and his father, had a variety of things they needed to attend
to in order to remain wealthy as sin.
I knew this because at dinner (another one we had alone,
just two nights ago, outside a delightful brasserie at the edge of a large
cobblestone courtyard, surrounded by trees, glass-fronted shops and other
eateries—it was no Le Cirque Magique, but it was me and Loren alone,
so it was its own version of everything), he had talked to me about
them.
However, I’d glazed over somewhere between his shipping