Tiara- Part One

by Robin Roseau

  I am with friends tonight, but I have no commitments past that.

  In addition, Mother invites you for an intimate dinner Saturday in her home. I think you should accept and then inquire after my cousin.

  Your friend,

  Talith

  I read it twice, finding myself smiling. Then I gestured. “What do you think, Sergeant?”

  She read it and then asked, “Did you wish to accept?”

  “Unless you would rather I didn’t.”

  “I’d rather you were safely home, but I don’t imagine you’ll let me keep you locked up in the embassy.”

  “How strongly would you rather I not go?”

  “We’ll protect you,” she said. “Would you like me to make the arrangements?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  Bashful

  The comedy club was exactly as the sergeant had described it. There was a main floor with small tables, some for two, but most sized for four or six. In the back corners were tables for larger groups, and one of those tables was full with what would turn out to be a fairly raucous group of men and women. The club was, perhaps, half full.

  We had one of the two large boxes. In a way, they were very good seats, as we had an entirely unobstructed view of the stage. But we were off to the side, with the stage directly in front of us, and the rest of the house more to our right. There was a similar box directly across from us, and more intimate boxes in between. Tonight, in addition to ours, only two of the small boxes would hold guests.

  There were sweeping staircases from each of the two large boxes that descended to the stage, coming together at the rear. They were quite grand, and deeply ornate. In fact, the entire club was rather ornate and not at all what I had expected. I couldn’t quite decide whether it was tasteful or too much.

  There was artwork. I couldn’t decide if it was tasteful, either. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen artwork of nude people. There was one piece hanging at the back of my box that depicted a truly stunning woman, entirely nude, facing us. It was life size and looked amazingly real. She was standing in shadows, smiling mischievously while making a beckoning gesture.

  Renishta stepped to my side as I admired the painting. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “Are you shocked?”

  “A little,” she admitted. She gestured. “Princess, I don’t know what I’m supposed to think.”

  “I don’t know if you’re supposed to think anything in particular.”

  “But…”

  “You want to know if this is in poor taste.”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  “The artist is deeply gifted,” I commented. “If this is fashioned after a living woman, she is quite beautiful, but I imagine a certain amount of artistic expression is involved.”

  “That doesn’t tell me if I should be offended.”

  “I don’t believe you should be offended,” I replied. “I think we should understand this is a hint of what we’re to see tonight. Do you wish you had stayed at the embassy?”

  “No, but I think I’m going to spend the night blushing.”

  I laughed. “I suspect I may as well.” I gestured. “This isn’t something you would see in the palace, and perhaps the pose wouldn’t be found in a museum in Flarvor, either. But it is not the first time I have seen something at least somewhat similar. It is art. One goal of art is to make you feel. Does this make you feel something, Renishta?”

  “It definitely does that.” She paused. “She reminds me of you, Darfelsa.”

  “I’m not sure if I should be offended.”

  “I imagine she, like you, is very, very difficult to say ‘no’ to.”

  I laughed. “I couldn’t comment on myself, but about her…” I nodded my head. “You’re right about that.”

  “That looks like something you’d find in Ressaline.”

  “I haven’t seen anything at all similar there,” I said. “The original Charthans were somewhat less confident than we might be in Barrish. Oh, they could be arrogant, but when it comes to things like this, somewhat less daring.”

  “I’m not talking about them,” she said. “I’m talking about…”

  “Well, you’re right,” I said. “I think Lady Olivia would adore this. They have some very good artists, but they are still rebuilding a society, and I haven’t seen any new art of this caliber.”

  “That’s a little sad.”

  “Well. I did comment that this is a particularly good artist.” I paused. “I consider some of the slaves works of art in themselves. You didn’t get a chance to see that.”

  Together, we admired the painting for another minute before she spoke again. “Do you think you’ll go back?”

  “When I left, I thought it was for the last time,” I replied. “But I may have to. Why do you ask?”

  “I suppose you can’t take me.”

  “Only if you’re willing to undergo their customs.”

  “And if I am?”

  I turned to her. “Say what you want to say.”

  “Is… is that a mistake?”

  “Not in my mind, but you have to decide for yourself.”

  She nodded. “Princess Darfelsa, consider this me formally asking to remain yours.”

  “You may want to hold off on that offer until we see how badly I muddle this up.”

  She shook her head. “I wish to vow myself to you, Princess.”

  “Renishta,” I said gently.

  “It’s hardly loyalty if I put conditions on my service to you, Princess,” she said.

  “It’s hardly loyalty to you if I take you into a bad situation, or if I am unable to give you the opportunities you deserve.”

  “I wish to vow myself to you as my lady, Princess Darfelsa. I’ve thought about this for weeks. If I please you, please accept my vow.”

  I nodded. “I am honored to accept your vow, Ms. Pelonden.”

  “I have conditions.”

  “Oh, ho,” I said. “Now you offer conditions?”

  “Only two,” she replied. “I wish you to use my given name, at least some of the time.”

  “Not necessarily in front of others, Renishta.”

  “That’s fine, but we are alone.”

  “And I am Darfelsa, when it is not business,” I said. “And no more curtsies except in the most formal of settings.”

  “Or to make a point to someone else.”

  “I’ll trust your judgment. And your other condition?”

  She gestured to the painting. “Tell me what I should think.”

  “I can’t do that, but perhaps together we can decide what we each think. It may not match, and that is the nature of the art. What do you think, Renishta?”

  Together, we turned back to the painting. And then, slowly, we both leaned towards each other. “Is this all right?” she asked.

  “Yes, but I hope your vow wasn’t expecting-”

  “Only this much,” she replied. She nodded her head. “I think I’d like to meet her.”

  “I think perhaps we are in agreement then. I also would like to meet her. I couldn’t ever hang such a painting, but I do enjoy looking at it.” I paused. “I’d hang it if I could, but my sister and I are scandalous enough.”

  She didn’t respond to that, and a moment later I felt someone slide up to me, and another to Renishta’s other side. “Is this a private moment?” Castia asked.

  “We were discussing the art,” I answered.

  I turned to Talith and offered a Ressaline style of greeting, warmly returned. I offered my hand to Castia, but she gestured towards my face. “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “That… greeting. I have never seen that in my travels to Flarvor, but you greet my daughter in this fashion.”

  “It isn’t a Flarvorian tradition,” I explained. “It is Ressaline in nature, but I enjoy it when shared with women I like.”

  “And you don’t offer a similar greeting to me? You don’t care for me?”

 
I laughed and taught her the greeting, doing so in a lingering fashion. “Better?” I whispered.

  “Much,” she replied. “If this is honestly offered.”

  “I was only being sensitive to…”

  “Propriety?” She separated us. “Princess Darfelsa, I am fairly certain right now, you are the one who defines propriety.”

  “At home, that is my mother, but we are not in Barrish.”

  “The entire town is aquiver with your presence,” she said. She gestured. “If people knew you would be here, this place would be full.”

  “Which is why they don’t know,” I said.

  “Security,” Talith added.

  “Ah. Unfortunate.” She turned back to the painting. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “Gorgeous,” I agreed. “Do you know the story of this painting?”

  “No, but I know the model. Well, knew her.”

  “So she was a real woman?”

  “Is a real woman,” Castia corrected. “She once attempted to seduce me.”

  “Did she?” I asked.

  “Mother!” Talith exclaimed.

  “Your father was quite amused.” She gestured. “It was right down on that stage, in front of everyone. He thought it was simply part of the show, but she whispered to me she was entirely serious.” Castia fanned herself. “I declined, of course, but there are times I feel that was a horrible mistake.”

  “Mother!” Talith exclaimed again.

  “Do you feel it is wrong for two women to share such touches?” I asked.

  “I don’t know about that, but this is my mother!”

  Two of us laughed. A third quietly smiled. Then I gestured to the painting. “Did the artist take liberties?”

  “Very few,” Castia replied. “He caught her image quite well. As I remember her, she was somewhat more petite here.” She gestured to her own chest. “However, it is possible she posed while carrying her eldest daughter, and so the liberties would be somewhat lower.” She settled a hand over her stomach. “She is still one of the most beautiful women in all of Dennaholst, even though she is five years my senior.”

  “I believe you,” I said.

  “And so, Ms. Pelonden, are you mortified by this artwork?”

  “No.”

  “I want to interrupt,” I said. “This is Renishta, and you are Castia, if that would not offend you.”

  “It won’t offend me at all,” Castia said. “That was a simple answer, Renishta. What do you really think?”

  “That was our discussion,” Renishta replied. “And I think I would have liked to have met her. I’m not sure I would be brave enough to accept the offer implied in this painting, but I imagine she is very difficult to turn away.”

  “Most difficult,” Castia agreed. “Most difficult, indeed. Darfelsa, did my daughter advance my warning?”

  “She did,” I said. “And I have privately drawn straws to determine the order I shall offer up my staff to the antics of the entertainers.”

  That got me two laughs. I was kidding, of course, but not by that much.

  I hadn’t actually used straw.

  “Darfelsa,” Castia said. “I fully accepted your invitation and have brought two additional guests.”

  “Have they arrived?”

  “They came with me.”

  “And here we stand, ignoring them while admiring the art. Please introduce us.”

  “My sister wished to come,” Castia explained. “And is most vexed I didn’t invite her.” We turned, however, and there were two women waiting, both near Castia’s age. “This is Chanmosh Lelal, and beside her is Liri Minsus.”

  We exchanged greetings. Chanmosh was petite, with dark hair and bright eyes. Liri was quite tall, with long, blonde hair she wore in a complicated braid hanging over her right shoulder. It was Liri who asked about the greeting I’d shared earlier.

  “A Ressaline custom,” I explained. I considered. “Would you like to learn?”

  “I think I would,” she said.

  She had to lean down for it, being very nearly Father’s height, quite nearly, although not so broad as a man. I brushed cheeks and then said, “There is more.” My lips were quite near her ear. “I would not shock you, but a kiss from here is common.”

  “My ear?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wouldn’t be shocked.”

  So I did, and then she kissed mine before asking, “Is that all right?”

  “Quite all right,” I said. We parted, and then Chanmosh asked, “This is a common greeting in Flarvor?”

  “No, not at all. It is a common greeting between good friends in Ressaline.”

  “But you are from Flarvor, a princess.”

  “Yes, but I have been living in Charth, assigned to the embassy there, since I was fifteen. I have acquired a variety of customs, and I hope to import one or two home with me.”

  “Close friends,” she said, repeating my earlier words. “You only just met Liri. And you kissed her ear.”

  “Customs in different places vary,” I said. “I was teaching the custom, and somewhat extending it to include a good friend of a friend.”

  “And what am I?” she asked.

  “Don’t give Darfelsa a hard time,” Liri inserted. “If you want your ear kissed, ask her to teach you the custom. Or maybe you don’t like short people, Princess.”

  I laughed. “I am happy to teach Chanmosh, but I think she’s shocked by me.”

  “I’m not shocked.” She stepped closer. We brushed, and she whispered, “Am I being too forward?”

  “No,” I said. We brushed the other side and exchanged the little ear-kiss. “This is not how you would greet everyone, only close friends, but I don’t mind sharing.” I gave her ear one more little kiss before stepping back. “We have refreshments.”

  * * * *

  It was perhaps twenty more minutes before a woman stepped out onto the stage. We had taken our seats. I’d wanted to put Talith closest to the staircase, making her a potential victim to the audience participation, but I wanted to sit together, and I didn’t think the second closest seat was much protection for me. And so we sat in the front row, nearest the railing, in the middle of the box, with everyone else clustered around us.

  I found myself staring at the woman standing on the stage, smiling as the audience cheered raucously. It was the woman from the painting.

  She took several bows, including one directed towards my box, then held up her hand. When the audience refused to calm down, she stomped her foot. “Quiet down, you, or this is the last time you’ll see me tonight.”

  They grew still nearly instantly.

  “That’s better,” she said. “We have a good show tonight.”

  “You always have a good show, Alexi,” a man’s voice rang out. The audience laughed.

  “I’m glad you think so,” she said. “We have a special guest tonight. You know who you are. Stand up now.” I didn’t move. Alexi didn’t even glance up at me, so I thought perhaps she actually meant someone else. But then she said, “Don’t make me ask a third time.”

  I sighed and quietly stood. She was looking directly up at me by the time I was on my feet. “Did you think I meant someone else?”

  “Perhaps your grandmother is here,” I replied, making sure to project.

  That generated laughter, including from Alexi. “There may be other special guests, but can we get a light on the box.” It was a moment, but then one of the spots illuminated me. At least it was from the side, and so I wasn’t entirely blinded. “Will I offend anyone if I introduce you?”

  “That might depend on what words you use,” I replied. “Go ahead.” I smiled. “We have a seat waiting for you, if you decide to visit.”

  “I just might,” she offered. “Our guest is…” she consulted a piece of paper. “Her Highness, Princess Darfelsa Cinnabar of Flarvor.” She looked up. “If you have more titles, they weren’t provided to me.”

  “I do,” I said. “The only time anyone use
s them is when I am introduced at court or someone is being pretentious.” They laughed. I offered a little bow. “My pleasure to be here.”

  “Come down here, Princess,” Alexi said. “Give everyone a good look.”

  “They can see me just fine,” I replied. “I am not the show tonight.”

  “Princess,” Alexi said, her tone shifting, as if she were addressing a recalcitrant child. “Do not make me send anyone to retrieve you.”

  Sergeant Felist and I had already discussed this. I hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly, but we’d already agreed we wouldn’t create an international incident or leave bad impressions. And so I turned and made my way, picking up four of my guards, including the sergeant, by the time I reached the stairs.

  The audience turned raucous again, and the musicians played something, and so I found myself stepping into time to the music. I made it to the stage, and the guards spread themselves about. I strode to Alexi.

  Castia was right; she remained deeply beautiful, and her expression was quite playful. I reached her, and then she surprised me.

  With a Ressaline greeting.

  “Well, well,” I whispered. “Would you really have made an issue of it?”

  “In my club, my word is law,” she said. “Diplomacy be damned. Would your guards have made an issue of it?”

  “No. But leave them out of any games and pretend they aren’t even here, or my cooperation ends, as does theirs.”

  “Of course,” she said. “This is all in fun.” She kissed my ear, and we parted with one more brushing. Then she turned us to face the audience, but I turned back and raised my hand.

  I was surprised. The audience actually quieted. “I have heard your given name, and you know who I am, but greetings have been one-sided.”

  “My apologies, Your Highness. I am Alexi Chante, your host here tonight at Bashful.”

  “My pleasure, Ms. Chante.”

  She turned to me and waved a finger. “Alexi.” She lowered her voice only loudly enough I could hear. “Don’t fight me, Princess.”

  I nodded. “My pleasure, Alexi.”

  She smiled broadly. Have I mentioned how beautiful she was? “Well, Princess.” She gestured out to the audience. “Welcome to Dennaholst.”