Dazed, Becka ambled off towards where she’d last seen Vott, continuing across the hall and needing a few moments to settle herself. This time others made way for her with no prompting. She strode through a group from House Oak, which she assumed based on their stocky builds, who quieted and parted ways as she passed through. No doubt their stoic intuition informed their actions, discouraging engagement.
Catching sight of Duchess Maura, Becka headed in her direction, taking a moment to compose her thoughts. Her Aunt Astrid, head trainer of the Illusionists Guild, stood next to Maura, deep in discussion with a handful of fae.
As Becka drew near, Maura raised her hand, a silvered orb of energy launching from her fingertips towards the ceiling. It exploded like fireworks, full of harmless, dazzling sparks which drew everyone’s attention.
When the room quieted, Maura spoke. “House Rowan is delighted you’ve made the journey and we welcome you to our annual regional trade negotiations. At this time, all delegates are invited to the council chambers to introduce their terms for discussion. I look forward to hearing your proposals and aiding in the mediation process. Shall we?” She gestured towards the rear staircase.
Lady Wynne of House Ash, who Becka had met briefly yesterday, noticed her and then smiled her way politely. “Will Lady Becka be joining us tonight?” she asked Maura.
Maura’s face was as placid as a lake. “No, she will not. Although she is my legal heir, she’s not yet guilded.”
Wynne’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh yes, I had forgotten she’d blossomed into her powers at so advanced an age.”
What am I, a spinster? I’m not that old!
“Does it take longer to train when they start later?” Wynne asked Astrid.
“It varies,” Astrid replied, resplendent in her floor-length red silk dress. “In Becka’s case, the lack of understanding about the unique aspects of her power adds to the challenge. But those who develop later often take longer to fully grasp the complexities of their powers.”
Maura turned to Astrid, “Will you join me?”
Astrid nodded, and the two headed to the council chambers. Lady Wynne was not far behind them.
Becka watched them go, feeling kicked in the shins and more than a little embarrassed. When would she feel like she belonged here? Would she ever? Becka shook off her thoughts, again trying to find Vott in the crowd.
Which was when Alain Hawthorne, her fiancé, found her.
“My dearest Lady Becka,” he intoned, his voice smooth with confidence. He reached for her gloved hand, depositing a chaste kiss on the back of it with a flourish. A fiery phoenix perched atop Alain’s shoulder, stretching its wings as if to maintain its balance as he bent forward. But, as the creature had no intrinsic weight, the display was all for show.
It was a lovely fire elemental, intricate to behold, but the presence of the phoenix so close to her made Becka’s head throb. Worse, she’d told Alain it pained her when she encountered other people’s magic, and yet he didn’t seem to realize that his magical displays also caused her pain. Did he think showing off his skill was going to impress her? All it did was demonstrate that his need to look good eclipsed being considerate to Becka.
A cheerful lady accompanied Alain, full of smiles for Becka. “May I introduce my cousin, the Lady Hanna Hawthorne?” he said.
Hanna reached for Becka’s gloved hand and grasped it firmly and fearlessly. “I am so grateful to make your acquaintance, Lady Becka. Alain has told me so much about you, and I can’t wait to get to know you better.”
Alarm bells went off in Becka’s head. No fae was this over-the-top ingratiating and sweet, at least not without an ulterior motive. What did Alain have up his sleeve?
Just then, Becka spotted Vott talking with her brother Calder and his lady friend of the month.
“Lady Hanna, how lovely to meet you. Now, if you two will excuse me, I’m afraid Vott sent for me.”
More the spirit of the truth rather than the letter, but any excuse would do at the moment.
“Of course,” Hanna replied and gave her a slight bow.
Alain’s slight frown was the only sign of his disappointment. “Tomorrow, then, we’ll speak more? I must be off to the meeting anyway. I’m the designated envoy for House Hawthorne.”
By the way he puffed out his chest, Becka guessed she was supposed to be impressed. Hanna’s smile shone up at him, which made Becka even more suspicious of this overly cheerful Hawthorne cousin. Becka wondered at the reason for Hanna’s visit. Would she be expected to spend a lot of time with Hanna?
“Lord Alain,” Becka replied, neither confirming nor denying any obligations for tomorrow, and then with a nod she headed towards Vott.
She’d moved so quickly towards Vott that when she stopped, her skirts whooshed forward around her, the multi-layered dress rocking against her legs.
“Vott,” she said. “Calder.” She nodded briefly at both of them.
“Eloquent, as always, sister Becka,” Calder replied with a shake of his head. “Have you met my paramour, the Lady Alvilda?”
Becka could see why Calder appeared captivated by this new girl. Alvilda’s hair hung loose down to her hips, her platinum tresses so shiny they were almost reflective in the candlelight. Her dress wasn’t as fancy as some Becka had seen tonight, but the understated pale blue sheath highlighted the petite yet curvy fae’s form. Alvilda’s arm tightened around Calder’s, and her perfect heart-shaped lips held a forced smile not reflected in her pale gold eyes.
“Not yet. Pleased to meet you.” Becka shot out her gloved hand, to which Alvilda gave a somewhat horrified expression before accepting the handshake, a gesture which was tentative and lasted a mere moment.
Calder didn’t appear to be sharing complimentary stories about sister Becka to his lover. Fair enough.
“I need to excuse myself for the meeting,” Calder said. “Vott, will you be joining us?”
“No. As elder of House Alder, there are no proposals from my birth house for me to present. Maura is well-equipped to manage House Rowan’s interests. Besides, the initial proposals are often tedious and long-winded, and the trade talks run long enough as it is for my liking.” He laughed, and his genuine humor was so infectious they all joined in. Well, Becka didn’t laugh, but she returned his smile. “But you should get going, Calder. It’s your first one, and I have a feeling you’ll enjoy it. Give me an outline of what I need to know over breakfast before the negotiations begin, yes?”
“As you say, Father.” Calder leaned in close to Alvilda and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Join me in my room later?” he asked, not bothering to lower his voice.
“I will eagerly await your arrival,” Alvilda replied, a slight flush warming her cheeks.
Was this open affection standard, or were Calder’s intentions towards Alvilda more serious than Becka had assumed? Surely, their mother Maura had more lofty plans for Calder’s future wedded union, but that wouldn’t necessarily limit his dalliances. By her overly effusive smile, Becka was sure Alvilda had every intention of cementing her place at Calder’s side.
Calder bowed to Vott and then excused himself.
Vott, smiling pleasantly as if he didn’t have a care in the world, turned to Becka. “My dearest, would you please join me on the rooftop garden for a cup of tea?”