Ch. 13 A Working Dinner and Ch. 14: Visible

Chapter 13: A Working Dinner

Serali went to collect Allandra after Everly’s bedtime.

This seemed a sensible arrangement. Everly had eaten with Pella, Allandra had promised a story, and Serali had promised Mara that dinner would be required once the Queen was finished.

Mara had asked how many people.

Serali had said two.

Mara had smiled.

Unnecessarily.

Now Allandra stood in the sitting room adjoining the nursery, listening while Ivelle, her senior lady attendant, explained something about the following morning’s appointments.

Serali waited by the door.

Allandra noticed her immediately.

The bond warmed.

So did Allandra’s expression, although she managed that more carefully.

“I believe Lady Serali has come to rescue my supper,” she said.

“Your Majesty.” Serali inclined her head. “It is at risk.”

“Of what?”

“Becoming breakfast.”

Ivelle finished making a note.

Allandra turned to her. “I will be taking a working dinner in Lady Serali’s rooms. Dismiss the maids once the evening preparations are complete. I will not require them again tonight.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Shall I have your morning things set aside?”

A small pause.

“Please,” Allandra said.

Ivelle inclined her head.

There had been nothing remarkable in her tone. No raised eyebrow. No smile.

Serali found this considerably more alarming than Mara’s approach.

At least Mara announced when she was being intolerable.

Allandra collected a slim folder from the table. “Lessa knows where to find me if Everly needs anything.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Ivelle said. “Good night.”

They left her arranging the papers.

Serali waited until they had turned into the corridor before glancing at the folder. “Working dinner?”

Allandra held it up. “I brought work.”

“That is disappointing.”

“You have not seen it yet.”

“I have seen folders before.”

Allandra’s mouth twitched.

Serali looked ahead before her own could betray her.

Mara had arranged dinner beside the sitting-room windows.

Two places. Covered dishes. A small vase containing a branch of white blossoms that Serali was reasonably certain had not been there that morning.

The room smelled of bread and rosemary.

Allandra stopped inside the doorway.

Serali looked at her. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You stopped.”

“I am appreciating my supper.”

“Appreciate it seated.”

Allandra laughed softly and obeyed.

Mara uncovered the dishes, confirmed that neither of them required anything else, and departed with a composure Serali distrusted on principle.

The door closed.

Allandra leaned back in her chair. “You have arranged this very thoroughly.”

“I arranged dinner.”

“And collected me.”

“You were occupied.”

“And instructed me to sit.”

“You were standing.”

Allandra watched her across the table.

Serali picked up the bread basket. “Do you intend to continue listing things I have done?”

“I am enjoying them.”

That was more difficult to answer.

Serali gave her bread.

For a while they ate.

Allandra described Everly’s objections to the story she had chosen. Apparently a princess had been rescued by a knight despite owning an entirely adequate horse.

“Everly wanted to know why she did not ride away,” Allandra said.

“A reasonable question.”

“I thought so.”

“Was there an answer?”

“Lessa suggested the horse might have been in the stable.”

“That would complicate matters.”

“Everly asked why the knight did not rescue the horse first.”

Serali considered. “Also reasonable.”

Allandra smiled into her cup.

It was a familiar smile, softer than the one she used at council. Serali liked being close enough to see the difference without having to search for it across a room.

“Did she sleep?”

“Eventually. She informed me that tomorrow’s princess should have better planning.”

“I will look through the library.”

“Please do. I am running out of defensible princesses.”

They finished the first course. Allandra reached for the folder.

Serali looked at it.

Allandra opened it with great dignity. “We did say working dinner.”

“You said working dinner.”

“And you attended.”

“Under misleading circumstances.”

Inside was the revised household schedule for the gala. Allandra had marked two conflicting appointments, one missing delivery time, and a question concerning the children’s supper.

Serali moved her cup out of the way.

The question took less than ten minutes to settle.

The missing delivery time took another five.

When Allandra turned the last page, Serali closed the folder beneath her hand.

Allandra looked up.

“That is enough working dinner.”

“There is one more note.”

“Does it require action tonight?”

“No.”

“Then it can remain a note.”

Allandra’s fingers rested against hers on the cover.

Serali left them there.

“Why did you come to collect me?” Allandra asked.

“I wanted dinner with you.”

“We could have eaten in my rooms.”

“Yes.”

Allandra waited.

Serali disliked how much patience she possessed when she knew there was another answer.

“I wanted you here,” she said.

Warmth moved through the bond, sudden and unmistakable.

Allandra turned her hand and caught Serali’s fingers. “I wanted to be here.”

Serali looked down at their joined hands.

Good.

A useful agreement.

Allandra removed the first earring after dinner.

She had moved to the low chair beside the hearth, where Serali usually sat to read. The chair suited her badly. Her knees were too close to the little table, and the cushion had been arranged for someone shorter.

Serali considered telling her this.

Then Allandra reached for the second earring, and the fastening refused to cooperate.

“Hold still,” Serali said.

Allandra lowered her hand. “An increasingly frequent instruction.”

“You move unnecessarily.”

“I had understood that to be allowed.”

Serali stood beside the chair and loosened the clasp.

There.

Simple.

She set the earring beside its companion on the table.

Allandra tipped her face up toward her. “Thank you.”

Serali kissed her.

She had meant to do it earlier.

In the corridor, which would have been foolish. At the table, which would have required moving several dishes. When Allandra had laughed about the princess’s horse, which would have interrupted the story.

There had been obstacles.

There were fewer now.

Allandra’s hand settled at her waist. The kiss ended, but her hand remained.

Serali stayed close.

“Was that part of helping with the earring?” Allandra asked.

“No.”

“I thought not.”

“You are welcome to object.”

“I have no objections.”

Serali kissed her again.

Allandra answered without hesitation, drawing her closer until Serali had to put a hand against the chair to steady herself.

When they separated, Allandra was smiling.

“What?” Serali demanded.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“You came to collect me.”

“We have established that.”

“Yes.” Allandra brushed her thumb over Serali’s hand. “I am still enjoying it.”

Serali tried to think of something suitably sharp.

Allandra waited, apparently delighted by the delay.

“You are staying,” Serali said instead.

It emerged less like a question than she had intended.

Allandra’s expression softened. “If you want me to.”

“I do.”

“Then yes.”

The maids dismissed. Morning things set aside.

Serali had noticed the arrangements. She had simply declined to examine how much she wanted them to mean exactly this.

Now Allandra was looking at her as though there was nothing difficult about wanting to spend the night together.

Perhaps there did not have to be.

Serali took her hand. “Come here.”

Allandra rose.

Without the chair between them, Serali could put both arms around her. She did so, letting herself settle into the familiar shape of their embrace.

Allandra kissed her hair.

For a moment neither spoke.

Serali could hear the small sounds of the fire, the distant movement of someone in the corridor, Allandra breathing beside her.

She tipped her head back.

Allandra met her halfway.

This kiss lasted longer.

When Serali drew away, she kept hold of Allandra’s hand and led her toward the bedroom.

At the threshold Allandra glanced back at the abandoned folder.

“Do not,” Serali said.

“I was only looking.”

“You were preparing an argument.”

Allandra laughed. “Have you been spending time with Lia?”

“Unfortunately.”

She drew Allandra through the doorway.

The folder remained beside the hearth.

If you want to read the steamy bit of this chapter, head over to Inkitt:

Chapter A Working Dinner | Fault Line by Lemon_Tea_With_Honey at Inkitt

Later, Allandra lay with her cheek against Serali’s shoulder and one hand still loosely caught in hers.

The lamp had been turned low.

Serali had intended to move it farther from the bed. She had also intended to fetch water.

Neither task currently seemed urgent enough to justify disturbing Allandra.

“You are awake,” Allandra murmured.

“Yes.”

“Thinking?”

“Occasionally.”

“About the wall?”

“No.”

Allandra lifted her head enough to look at her.

Serali narrowed her eyes. “Do not look so surprised.”

“I am appreciating the achievement.”

“You appreciate things excessively.”

“I have had a pleasant evening.”

Serali felt herself smile before she could prevent it.

Allandra noticed.

Of course she did.

She leaned up to kiss the corner of Serali’s mouth, then settled back against her.

Serali adjusted the blanket over them.

There was an ordinary morning waiting beyond this one. Breakfast. Appointments. Marielle’s notes, which would almost certainly contain additional questions.

None of it required Allandra to leave now.

“What?” Allandra asked softly.

Serali looked down. “You are still here.”

“I said I would be.”

“I know.”

Allandra’s fingers tightened around hers.

Serali rested her cheek against Allandra’s hair.

For a while the room was quiet.

Then Allandra said, “You could come to breakfast.”

“Everly will ask what we worked on.”

“The gala schedule.”

“That took fifteen minutes.”

“Efficient work.”

“She will ask why it required the entire evening.”

Allandra considered this. “There was dinner.”

“Yes.”

“And conversation.”

“Yes.”

“And you had objections to my earrings.”

“I assisted with your earrings.”

“A distinction we should preserve.”

Serali laughed quietly.

Allandra went still for a moment, then drew closer.

“What?” Serali asked.

“Nothing.”

Suspicious.

But her face was warm against Serali’s shoulder, and her hand remained comfortably threaded through Serali’s.

Serali decided, for once, not to demand an explanation.

“Breakfast,” she said. “Perhaps.”

Allandra kissed her shoulder. “Perhaps is acceptable.”

Serali closed her eyes.

Morning could have its appointments.

There was still the rest of the night.

Chapter 14: Visible

Daravan disliked balls.

Not personally.

Professionally.

Personally, he had no opinion on dancing, decorative flowers, orchestral music, imported wine, or the particular kind of pastry that required three bites and six napkins.

Professionally, all of those things created problems.

Music covered footsteps.

Flowers obscured sight lines.

Wine reduced judgment.

Dancing rearranged bodies unpredictably.

And the Spring Benefactors’ Gala required the palace to admit several hundred people through doors Daravan generally preferred closed.

Tonight, three weeks after First Sun, it was also a security problem wearing jewelry.

The intervening days had produced revised rotations, inspected doors, and a great many reports. They had not produced the four escaped Lyehirans.

Marielle had continued working under Lia’s restrictions. The wall samples remained in the engineering rooms. The glass fish had acquired enough adjustments to make Daravan distrust the word finished.

He stood near the ballroom entrance while the first guests passed through the receiving line.

Invitation.

Name.

Escort.

Visual confirmation.

Magical screening.

Inside.

Again.

The additional precautions had taken three weeks to arrange and forty minutes for the nobility to begin complaining about.

Daravan considered this efficient.

Harrek appeared at his shoulder. Lia’s repeated magical treatments had finally restored him to ordinary duty, which he had celebrated by objecting to the phrase ordinary duty.

“Outer carriage line is clear,” he said.

“North garden?” Daravan asked.

“Two Watch teams.”

“Roof?”

“Checked.”

“Service court?”

“Checked.”

“I would check it again.”

Harrek looked at him.

Daravan looked back.

Harrek sighed. “I knew the war had damaged you. I did not realize it had made you tedious.”

“Service court,” Daravan reminded him.

“I sent another team before I came inside.”

“Good.”

Harrek glanced toward the ballroom. “Fourteen noblewomen have asked whether the extra guard means we expect an attack.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That if we expected one, I would not tell them.”

Daravan nodded. “Good.”

“They did not think so.”

“That is not relevant.”

Harrek’s mouth twitched.

Then his gaze moved past Daravan.

“Royal family,” Harrek said.

Daravan turned.

Sun-glass chandeliers scattered gold across silk, polished floors, and embroidered coats that cost more than a patrol horse. Music rose from the dais. Flowers had been moved twice to preserve the guard’s view of the doors.

The Watch held the outside approaches. Within the palace, his own officers covered the entrances and galleries.

Allandra entered first.

Gold, of course.

Not battlefield gold.

Court gold.

Silk instead of armor, hair dressed high enough to display the sun-shaped pins worked through it, every inch the Queen people expected when they bought expensive clothes and came to be observed.

Everly walked beside her holding Hagen’s hand.

That had not been the original arrangement.

Daravan knew because he had approved the original arrangement.

Lessa was supposed to escort Everly from the family apartments to the receiving line.

Apparently Everly had revised protocol.

Again.

Hagen looked entirely untroubled by this.

He bent as Everly said something.

Then looked toward Daravan.

“She says she is checking whether the fish are ready.”

Daravan closed his eyes. “They are fish.”

“They jump.”

“I know.”

Everly tugged Hagen forward. “Uncle Hagen.”

“I am moving, little Sun.”

“You are slow.”

“I am wearing formal shoes.”

“That is your fault.”

Allandra’s mouth curved.

Then Serali entered behind them.

Daravan watched the room notice.

It happened in layers.

Conversation dipped nearest the doors first.

Then farther inward.

Not silence.

The nobility had too much training for that.

Just attention.

Serali was dressed in dark Avalusian formalwear cut to suit her rather than disguise her, violet eyes sharp beneath black hair, Pell on one side and Orran several paces behind.

Royal Mage.

Night Fae.

Vulmar’s daughter, if one believed the Lyehiran letters.

Avalusia’s, if one believed the oath.

Daravan disliked the way people looked at her.

Not because attention itself was dangerous.

Because attention was information.

Who stared too long.

Who avoided her.

Who whispered after she passed.

Who bowed.

Who did not.

Harrek murmured, “You are doing the face.”

Daravan kept watching the room. “What face?”

“The one that makes minor nobles remember crimes they have not committed yet.”

“Useful.”

“Yes.”

Serali reached Everly.

Everly immediately let go of Hagen and caught Serali’s hand.

Daravan saw Allandra notice.

Saw Serali notice Allandra noticing.

Saw Hagen notice all of it.

Then decided he had enough problems.

“Where is Lady Marielle?” Daravan asked.

Harrek looked around.

Daravan looked too.

Verya near the southern arch.

Yvander speaking to two merchant lords.

Lia by the refreshments, because apparently even healers could be compelled into formalwear.

No Marielle.

Daravan looked toward the wall where Corren should have been standing.

Corren was there.

Alone.

That was worse.

Daravan crossed the ballroom.

Corren saw him coming.

His expression changed.

Slightly.

Enough.

“Where is Lady Marielle?” Daravan asked.

Corren hesitated.

Daravan disliked the hesitation immediately.

“She was here.”

“That was not the question.”

“She said she needed to check something.”

“Where?”

“The fountain.”

“Mael?”

“With her.”

Better.

Not good.

Daravan looked toward the center of the ballroom.

The fountain worked.

Six glass fish leapt in sequence through narrow arcs of water, catching light as they rose.

Blue.

Green.

Gold.

Silver.

Children had already begun clustering around it.

Everly had abandoned Serali long enough to stand at the edge with both hands on the stone rim.

Lessa stood directly behind her.

Good.

Daravan scanned the mechanism.

No Marielle.

“Where exactly?”

Corren pointed toward the side passage leading behind the musicians’ platform.

Daravan stared.

Corren said, “She said the fifth fish was wrong.”

Of course she had.

Daravan went after her.

Marielle was not behind the musicians’ platform.

She was not in the small machinery room beside the ballroom.

Daravan met Mael coming out of the adjoining service passage.

Alone.

“Captain,” Mael said.

“Where is she?”

“She entered the valve room. I stayed at the door while she spoke to an apprentice.”

“And?”

“There is another exit behind the housing. She went through it before I realized.”

Daravan looked past him. The first door remained open, offering an excellent view of an empty room.

“And you are looking for her.”

“Yes, Captain. She took the apprentice to find a smaller wrench.”

An apprentice was not a guard.

Marielle knew this.

Mael knew this.

Somewhere in the palace, Marielle was almost certainly very pleased with herself.

“Corren holds the ballroom approach. Check the gallery.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Daravan went.

He knew where she would be.

Not because this was reasonable.

Because after several years of council meetings, wall inspections, emergency repairs, festival preparations, and one poison-stabbing incident, Daravan had developed an unfortunate familiarity with the way Marielle moved through a problem.

She would not have gone somewhere comfortable.

She would not be socializing.

She would not have decided, sensibly, to sit down.

She would be wherever the unfinished thing was.

The fountain itself was working.

Therefore the unfinished thing would be beneath it.

Daravan turned down the narrow maintenance corridor running behind the ballroom wall.

Found a second access door open.

And heard Marielle say: “No, the small wrench.”

An apprentice replied, “This is the small wrench.”

“That is the medium wrench.”

“They are the same length.”

“Length is not the determining variable.”

Daravan stepped into the room.

Marielle was kneeling beside an exposed section of pipework.

In formal clothes.

Of course.

Her gown was deep green, simple by court standards, with one sleeve altered slightly around the still-bandaged upper arm.

Jewelry at her throat.

Short white hair arranged with considerably less ceremony than the rest of her.

One good hand extended toward the apprentice.

The apprentice saw Daravan first.

Froze.

Marielle followed his gaze. “Oh.”

Daravan looked at her.

Then at the open housing.

Then at the tools.

Then at her.

“No.”

Marielle frowned. “You do not know what I am doing.”

“You left your guards.”

“I left one guard.”

“Two.”

“Mael was at the door.”

“The other door.”

“There were two.”

“You used the one without a guard.”

The apprentice slowly lowered the wrench.

Daravan held out one hand for the wrench.

The apprentice gave it to him.

Marielle looked offended. “I need that.”

“You need to stand up.”

“I am adjusting the fifth return valve.”

“The fifth fish is jumping.”

“Incorrectly.”

Daravan listened.

Through the wall came the muffled rhythm of water.

One splash.

Another.

Another.

Then a slightly different splash.

Marielle pointed. “That.”

Daravan stared at the wall.

“That was water.”

“That was bad water.”

“There is no such thing.”

“There absolutely is.”

Of course.

Daravan crouched enough to inspect the mechanism.

Not because he cared.

Because apparently he had reached the stage of his career where he needed to distinguish acceptable water from unacceptable water.

“What is wrong with it?”

“The fifth return arc is half a beat late.”

“That sounds survivable.”

“It is visible.”

“Only to you.”

“And Everly.”

Daravan paused.

Marielle looked triumphant.

“She noticed?” Daravan asked.

“She asked why the green fish was tired.”

That was extremely Everly.

Daravan sighed.

Marielle pointed toward the valve. “If I adjust that by two degrees, the sequence will match.”

“You were told not to climb into anything.”

“I am beside it.”

“You were told not to lift anything.”

“I am holding a wrench.”

“You were told to remain visible.”

“I was visible to the apprentice.”

Daravan looked at her.

Marielle looked back.

They had already negotiated the engineering rooms, the examinations, the chair, and the weight of objects she could carry.

Apparently none of those agreements had covered the number of doors a room might possess.

“Your survival is also part of the event.”

Marielle blinked. That appeared to surprise her.

Daravan regretted the phrasing immediately.

He corrected. “Your continued presence on the council is operationally useful.”

Marielle considered. “That was worse.”

“Yes.”

“Much worse.”

“I know.”

The apprentice appeared to be concentrating very hard on the pipework.

Daravan stood.

“Two minutes,” he said.

Marielle’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”

“Fix the fish.”

Her expression changed.

Not much.

But enough.

“You are allowing it?”

“I am preventing you from attempting it again after I leave.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“No.”

Marielle took the wrench from him.

“Two degrees?” Daravan asked.

“Two.”

She leaned toward the mechanism.

Daravan said, “From there.”

She stopped. “From where?”

“Where you are. No climbing.”

“I was not—”

Daravan looked at her.

Marielle sighed. “Fine.”

She adjusted the valve.

The apprentice reset the panel.

Marielle stood.

Slowly.

Good.

Daravan noticed that too.

He disliked noticing everything.

“Test,” Marielle said.

The apprentice pulled a lever.

Through the wall:

Splash.

Splash.

Splash.

Splash.

Then—

A clean, sharp rush of water.

Marielle went still.

The next followed.

Perfect rhythm.

Her face brightened.

Not court-smile brightened.

Not polite.

Not restrained.

Delighted.

Daravan had seen Marielle pleased before.

Usually because a bridge had failed in an interesting way.

This was different.

She turned toward him. “It works.”

“You cannot see it from here.”

“I can hear it.”

Marielle was already moving toward the door.

Daravan stepped in front of her.

She stopped. “I am returning to the ballroom.”

“With me.”

“I know the way.”

“With me.”

She frowned. “You are very repetitive tonight.”

“It has been a repetitive evening.”

They left together.

Mael was waiting halfway down the corridor.

Corren farther beyond.

Daravan looked at both. “One of you remains with Lady Marielle. The other covers the route back to the ballroom.”

Marielle opened her mouth.

Daravan continued. “If she enters a maintenance corridor, one of you enters with her.”

“I had Mael.”

“You left Mael.”

“I knew where he was.”

Mael made the mistake of looking amused.

Daravan looked at him.

The amusement died.

Good.

They returned to the ballroom.

Everly saw Marielle immediately. “Lady Marielle!”

Several nearby nobles turned.

Marielle stopped.

Everly hurried toward her, Lessa following.

Daravan watched the child take Marielle’s right hand rather than the injured left.

She remembered.

“The fish work,” Everly said.

“Yes.”

“The green one is not tired now.”

“No.”

Everly looked pleased. “Did you fix him?”

“I fixed the valve responsible for his trajectory.”

Everly considered. “So yes.”

Marielle paused. “Yes.”

Daravan looked away before either of them caught his expression.

Harrek appeared beside him.

Naturally.

“You found her,” Harrek said.

“Yes.”

“Alive.”

“Yes.”

“With both guards.”

“Eventually.”

Harrek followed Daravan’s gaze toward Marielle and Everly.

Marielle was now explaining something about pressure.

Everly was listening with the intense seriousness of a child receiving classified military information.

Harrek said, “You assigned two men to one injured engineer.”

“Yes.”

“She escaped both.”

“She did not escape.”

Harrek looked at him.

Daravan amended, “She temporarily exceeded their immediate visual range.”

Harrek’s expression became unbearable. “Captain.”

“Do not.”

“I said nothing.”

“You were about to.”

“I was thinking it.”

Daravan looked at him.

Harrek smiled.

Not nervous.

Enjoying himself.

Daravan returned his attention to the ballroom.

Serali had acquired three nobles and looked as though she might prefer another assassination attempt.

Pell remained within reach.

Orran had the outer angle.

Allandra was speaking to an ambassador near the dais.

Hagen was intercepting someone Daravan recognized as tedious.

Verya had moved toward the wall.

Good.

Everything where it should be.

Mostly.

Marielle looked up.

Across the room, her eyes found Daravan.

She lifted one hand.

Not a wave.

Two fingers.

A small, precise acknowledgment.

The fifth fish leapt behind her.

Perfectly.

Daravan inclined his head.

Then returned to work.