Book 2 Ch 18: Tea

“I am grateful every day that I was never cursed with a sister. I don’t think I could handle dealing with that kind of envy constantly upon me.”

• Lady Arbessa

Solomon followed Edmure through the halls, finding their familiarity unfamiliar as he recognized tapestries, carpets, and woodwork that had been with him all throughout his life, but saw them as a visitor for the first time. They turned toward the suite of rooms that had been his and he found that not much had been changed. The decorations were the same, but what few personal touches he’d made had been removed. The purple curtains on the windows were now white and the bloodflowers in vases were now roses.

His old chambers had a new bed and his large desk had been replaced with a much smaller one. The small garden that adjoined his chambers no longer had the statue of the noble aiding the peasant; he assumed that it had been moved back to the main garden. It was all to be expected, but he felt a pang in the pit of his stomach anyway.

“How have you been, Edmure?” he asked as he looked around his old chambers.

“I’ve been well, Lord. My new duties aren’t too different from my old ones.”

“I’m sorry to be taking you from your wife for this trip.”

“There’s no need to apologize, lord. If you have a need for me, I will be there to serve.”

Solomon nodded. “You know, I won quite a few games of cards because of you recently.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’d always thought I’d been taught by a normal player, I hadn’t realized I’d been learning from a true cardshark.”

Edmure coughed a bit. “It’s simply a good way to pass the time, Lord.”

Solomon chuckled, and Melissa entered the room.

She gave a brief nod to Edmure, before turning to Solomon.

“Duncan and the carriage are taken care of. Your things should be here shortly.”

“Thank you, Melissa.”

She bowed and left the room.

Edmure frowned for just a moment before correcting his expression.

“Something the matter?” he asked.

The man shook his head. “No. I am just an old man that needs to get used to seeing a woman as a valet.”

Solomon nodded. “I didn’t have many choices, though even if I did I still may have considered her. She has been indispensable.”

Edmure nodded. His expression was calm, but their years of association meant that Solomon could still tell something was bothering him.

“Do you take issue with her?”

He shook his head. “Not with her, Lord. I just worry about her being here. She was among those that I told you needed protection. It was my wife that told me, but she would not give me the details of why. I worry for her now that she’s back here.”

Solomon nodded. “I’ll help to keep an eye on her. She’s very capable though, I wouldn’t be surprised if she already has everything well in hand.”

Edmure nodded.

“May I ask how Felicity is doing, Lord?”

“Your cousin is okay for now. She’s had some struggles, and I’m sure you heard of the incident with the former mayor. She’s handled that well though, and the other maids seem to care for her.”

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He nodded, relief on his face. “Thank you, Lord. I’ll take my leave. I don’t wish to step on Melissa’s toes.”

“A wise choice,” said Solomon with a smile.

A few moments later she appeared along with two footmen that deposited his trunks.

“Are you ready to join Bernice for tea?”

He nodded, and they walked the corridors to Bernice’s suite of rooms. He had to gently correct Melissa’s directions a few times as he was more familiar with the route than she.

They reached her parlor that looked out onto the gardens. She was staring out at the flowers, her black gown making her seem particularly pale and wan.

“You look as if someone died,” he said with a wry smile.

“Awful,” she replied. “I see your manners have deteriorated out on the frontier.”

He sat with a smile, letting Clara, his sister’s handmaid, hand him a hot cup of tea prepared the way he liked it.

He took a long sip, feeling the warmth of it spread through him.

“Ah yes, the frontier. A town that’s been tucked safely within the interior of the empire for hundreds of years.”

“It may as well be the orcish front with all the troubles you’ve had there. Just a few days ago I heard of the attempts on your life by a dissident. You’ve hardly been there for a few months and how many have tried to kill you?”

“I believe it may have more to do with me than Moonfallow. I’ve never had your natural charm.”

She sighed, exasperated.

“I will say I’m proud of you, Solomon. As worried as I am, you seem to be handling yourself quite well. Chorde has been receiving a number of requests for introduction to you from the young daughters of lesser families. He’s been politely declining on your behalf of course. He doesn’t consider them worthy matches for the family.”

“I can’t say I ever expected him to play matchmaker for me. Nor could I have guessed I’d be grateful for it.”

She shook her head. “It is so easy for you. You could wait to marry until you were forty if you wished. I am now the oldest woman at every ball that is unmarried and not a widow.”

Solomon frowned, drumming his fingers on the leg of his chair.

“I was going to make a point to meet with your betrothed while in Manacht.”

She frowned at him, placing her teacup back in its saucer.

“To what end?” she asked.

“My plan, if you do not object to it, is to ask that he release you from your betrothal.”

She sat silently, turning for a moment to look out the window.

“And then what would become of me?” she asked. “I would be without a husband and unbetrothed at twenty-five. Chorde would not be able to find a suitable match for me. I’d be left to rot here or in some small manor they decide to stick me in.”

“But you’d be free. You have the stipend from father, and the serfs. You’d be able to pursue things that you’ve always wanted to. There’s no guarantee that a suitor wouldn’t appear somewhere along the line as well.”

Solomon paused.

“That’s all assuming, of course, that I manage to convince him. Or that you agree at all. I will not make any move without your permission. I hate to see you stuck here, held fast by possibility that never materializes because of a man you never cared for.”

She frowned, looking out the window at the garden before taking a long sip of her tea.

“If you can convince him… then yes, I’d like him to end the engagement. Even if you fail it may at least prompt him to follow through with the damned thing.”

Solomon raised an eyebrow. He was unused to Bernice swearing.

“I’ll see it done.”

She nodded, and they shared another sip of tea.

“How have things been here?”

“Jude has been intolerable, mother has been overbearing, and Chorde is much the same as always.”

“So as annoying as always, but more? You wouldn’t normally complain so directly unless it had gotten worse.”

She sighed. “You will see at dinner, I’m sure.”

He smiled ruefully. “My excitement may bubble over.”

She chucked.

“Have you worked on anything lately?” he asked.

She looked at the door as if nervous.

“Yes. I’ve had nothing to do but write lately.”

“You know that’s another thing you’ll be able to worry less about if the betrothal is ended. Though I still think you could send them out under a pseudonym.”

“No, no. Somehow someone would figure out that it was me and from there every lord and lady I’ve ever interacted with will start presuming some character or another is them and start taking offense.”

“How many lords will think they’re a rebellious elven diplomat from the isles who falls for the daughter of a chamberlain?” He asked with a smile.

“I wish you hadn’t stolen those pages from me. All you do is hold them over my head. I wrote those when I was barely fourteen.”

“Well if you’d let me read your more recent work then I’d be able to hold those over your head instead.”

She shook her head. “An elven lover. I doubt any press would stock that in stores anyway. Too many veterans of the conquest would complain.”

“They publish The Endless Gutter, I think you’d be fine as long as there’s interest. I think you just like excuses not to risk sharing your work.”

She smiled. “It’s possible… but you must admit they’re very good excuses.”

He laughed and took another sip of his tea. They spent the rest of the afternoon together, falling into old patterns of conversation with a few fresh topics to add in from their separation. By the time he left to return to his guest rooms he felt buoyed against what he anticipated would be a highly unpleasant dinner.