Samh
9.10.1342 18:00
Theodomani spoke of nothing but the best qualities
of his lady love the entire way to her home. He explained how she had taken ill
at the thought of his death and had only now recovered enough to receive
visitors. Geodor found this all amusing and a bit overdramatic on the lady’s
part, but he kept his mouth shut.
After their arrival, a servant led them into the
main parlor, where two ladies focused on practicing their instruments. He immediately
recognized Theodomani’s betrothed from the description he had received and the
picture he had been shown. A slight paleness added to the delicacy of her
complexion. Her luxuriant black hair was knotted in two buns atop her head, and
a diamond-studded net covered each. Two thin strands of hair framed the sides
of her face in delicate ringlets. She was tall and commanding with dignified
movements and haughty gestures as she sat strumming a mini-harp. Geodor’s first
impression was that she did not act as if she had just recovered from a horrible
shock. Equally as clear was that she must have been a belle of the city and not
only knew this fact but also reveled in it.
The woman at the electropiano was of much more
interest to him. He knew she must be Abaledina—the humbler, orphaned cousin Theodomani
had mentioned. She had chestnut-colored hair pulled back in a double French
braid woven together into one braid at the ends. Although she sat straight, her
fingers caressed the keys of her instrument. When she occasionally turned her
head, he saw her eyes were closed as if she were enjoying the music instead of
simply playing it.
The cousins dressed similarly, Jeanilotta in
yellow and Abaledina in violet. Their leggings had contrasting thick black
stripes running down the outside seams. Their short-sleeve, off-the-shoulder silk
tops had geometric shapes on them. These covered a tank top made of natural,
undyed silk lace with the same geometric patterns woven into it.
They finished their song, and Jeanilotta impatiently
asked, “I wonder where Theodomani is today?”
“Here,” the man next to him said. “Allow me to present
Viscount Elwynalam, the man who saved me from an unfortunate death on the
moon.”
Jeanilotta laid aside her harp and stood with a
grace that Geodor could tell was meant to exhibit her elegant figure to every advantage.
She quickly crossed to him.
“I owe you much, sir, and must forever remain your
debtor. You have preserved my life by saving that of my friend.” She
dramatically held out a hand to him, her full black eyes swimming with tears.
He clasped hers with both of his and gave her a smile and nod.
Although captivated and amused by this display, he
observed the other young woman, who remained standing next to the electropiano.
He detected a slight eye roll. He decided she might not be entirely as
mild-mannered as Theodomani suggested.
Jeanilotta noticed she had lost his interest and added,
“Permit me to present my cousin, my adopted sister, Abaledina.”
Abaledina gave a brief curtsy and flushed
beautifully without making any effort to move from her post. He crossed the
room and held out his hand. She took it timidly. He resisted the urge to bring
it to his lips like some character in a cliched Earth romance. She met his
eyes, and he flashed her his most rakish smile, causing the blush to deepen.
Jeanilotta grabbed his elbow and animatedly led
him to a nearby sofa. After only a short while, Geodor realized she expected both
him and Thoedomani to hang on her every word. Theodomani naturally gratified
her wish, but he found himself faking his interest. Her vanity was clear and
only tempered by her desire to be adored. He developed the impression that Jeanilotta
wanted to charm him.
He glanced at Theodomani, childlike and adoring, as
he feasted upon the heightened charms of his betrothed bride. There was no hint
of jealousy—he was unaware of the guile in his lover’s eyes. Geodor smiled to
himself. She would learn soon enough that he would not be a stepping stone for
her next conquest.
His mind returned to the quieter cousin. Abaledina
had been cast into the shade by Jeanilotta’s display but did not fight for his
attention. She quietly worked her embroidery from a low window seat. Her
sapphire blue eyes and more womanly figure had first captured his attention.
Since she spent most of her time listening instead of participating, he found
himself wanting to know more about her.
He often noticed the sweet smile that occasionally
played about her mouth. Her eyes flicked up now and then, revealing her
reactions to the topics discussed. This quiet expressiveness hinted at an inner
strength and did more to raise her in his esteem than an hour of incessant
talking could do.
“And what attraction was there to bring you to the
moon, Viscount Elwynalam?” Jeanilotta asked when she noticed his eyes straying
too long from her again.
“If I had known the attractions in this room,
perhaps I would have vacationed here instead!” replied Geodor, looking her in
the eye. “La Soutain is known for the beauty of its ladies, but I never hoped I
would behold her two most lovely daughters in one parlor.”
“Reserve your admiration,” continued Jeanilotta,
unaware he had skillfully avoided answering her question. “We hope to show you all
the town’s beauties this week if you honor our Friday ball with your presence.”
Careful not to let his smile drop at the mention
of a ball, he glanced at all three of them. Abaledina continued her needlework;
Theodomani appeared to have just heard of it, and Jeanilotta looked at him
expectantly. He assured himself that if this were the same ball the thugs had
mentioned earlier, none of those present were aware of the connection.
“Please, forgive us the imposition,” Abaledina addressed
him for the first time, misunderstanding his silence for reluctance to attend.
“My aunt felt a ball would be the ideal way to celebrate Jeanilotta and
Theodomani’s engagement as well as Theodomani’s safe return to us. Sometimes when
she plans things for others, she doesn’t consider the participant’s feelings or
schedule.”
“I would love to attend. It will give me a
perfectly acceptable chance to dance with you if you are willing,” he replied,
wondering what events her aunt had planned for her without considering her
feelings.
He was rewarded with Abaledina’s beautiful blush.
“Perhaps you would also allow me to steal your
betrothed for a dance,” he quickly added, turning to his new friend to take
some of the focus off the unassuming girl. Theodomani agreed whole-heartedly
and began a long-winded, impromptu ode on how well his betrothed danced.
Jeanilotta shot a jealous look at Abaledina.
“Abaledina,” she said, interrupting Theodomani, her
voice sweet and venomous, “you look sad tonight. Is it possible that the sudden
departure of your betrothed, Eriath, is the cause? I didn’t think his absence
had ever afflicted you thus before.” Turning to Geodor, she added, “I’m sure my
brother wouldn’t mind you dancing with her in his absence.”
He scanned Abaledina’s countenance at the mention
of her engagement and noticed a severe internal struggle.
“Yes, I, too, am betrothed,” she absentmindedly
added.
Pushing aside her embroidery, she excused herself
from the party, stating she had some correspondence to complete. Geodor puzzled
over this response. Before Jeanilotta’s statement, Abaledina seemed happy and
content, sitting quietly with them. It was mention of the fiancé that seemed to
upset her. A slow smile crept across his face. Perhaps her betrothal was not
the bliss Theodomani found in his—especially if her fiancé was frequently
absent. He hoped to discover if her heart belonged to another at the ball.
The men stayed longer than was proper, but Abaledina
presented him with a mystery—and he loved solving mysteries.
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