Happiness in Numbers

by Nicole Field

  "Just act like you belong," Foxglove advised her, sliding the plate back onto the tray of a passing server. In the same smooth movement, he pulled Lucie's own mask down from her hair over her eyes, settling it securely on her nose and finger-coming her curls into place.

  Lucie swallowed. "That's easy for you to say." The mask felt awkward and uncomfortable resting on top of her glasses, but it had cat ears, so that made it a little more tolerable.

  Foxglove hissed a little laugh. "Is it?" he asked. "Well, anyway… come on. Let's go find your girl, shall we?"

  In all the commotion, Lucie had almost forgotten about why they were there in the first place. Anxiety spiked, and her heart hammered at her ribs abruptly.

  "Oh," she mumbled, pressing her cheek against Foxglove's shoulder. "Yes. Right. Suri…"

  "You'll be fine," Foxglove murmured, arm still around her waist as he swept her up a side set of stairs towards the banquet hall. "Anyway, you've seen that there are Pavrans are here, right? Demons, too. Maybe change is really coming."

  There was a bit of a strange tone in his voice. Lucie looked up quickly, but Foxglove was staring straight ahead again, expression hidden by the crow mask.

  She followed the line of his gaze. A violet-skinned demon stood next to a tall man dressed in Pavran style, with the distinctive silver eyes that Pavrans often shared. Nearby, another obviously-Pavran woman was engaged in lively conversation with a flock of wide-eyed Vieran girls. She cupped her hands together, then parted them to reveal a glittering illusory butterfly that flapped its wings and fluttered off towards the ceiling to the sound of gasps and soft murmurs of amazement.

  Still… Lucie could see others edging away from the sight, furtive whispers hidden behind hands, sidelong glances eclipsed by masks. She knew Foxglove could see it too, although he was pretending to be carefree for her sake, swiping a wineglass off a passing tray and taking a sip.

  "Maybe," Lucie acknowledged, quiet. "I mean… I hope so."

  She straightened, grabbing a wine glass of her own and swallowing a mouthful that she barely tasted on the way down. She really wasn't sure what was worse: potential heartbreak, uneasy politics, or the looming threat of socializing with strangers.

  Suri

  Suri stared at herself in the mirror and smacked her flushed cheeks with both hands.

  "Right!" she announced to the room. "I'm ready! I'm ready. I'm ready for this and I'm not nervous at all!"

  This was a total lie. She'd never been so nervous in her life. Impassioned speeches to thousands of citizens? No problem. Arguing with the Council about proposed taxation measures? She could do that in her sleep.

  Introducing her girlfriend to her parents after realizing that said girlfriend hadn't even known that Suri was a princess? Unexpectedly, intensely nerve-wracking.

  "I've never seen you this worked up," said Fen, pulling back the curtain from the changing area and making their way over to Suri, which had the immediate benefit of making all other thoughts fly from Suri's head. She spun around in her chair, hands clasping together in front of her, and drew in a delighted gasp.

  "Fen! You look wonderful!"

  Suri didn't even have to exaggerate her enthusiasm. Fen's hair was bound in its usual long, golden braids, but they'd accepted Suri's gift of bright red ribbon to tie them. They'd elected to wear the ruffled, pastel-colored dress of Suri's design, too, complete with high, sturdy boots and a heavy leather sword belt onto which Fen was immediately fastening their sheath. The dress only came down to Fen's knees, which Suri was sure would scandalize someone, but she was also confident that nobody was going to say a critical word when Fen's thighs were that powerful.

  Fen's cheeks had gone red immediately. The flush was starting to creep up to the tips of their pointed ears. "It's fine, I guess," they mumbled. "It's easy to move in, and I'm wearing shorts under the skirt, so it won't get in the way as much as a tight suit jacket would if I need to fight..."

  "I certainly hope you won't have to, but I appreciate the foresight," Suri said fondly, padding over and lifting her arms. She was still barefoot, so she had to do a little hop to latch her arms around Fen's neck, allowing Fen to do the work of hoisting Suri up for a quick kiss.

  Just being close to Fen helped her relax immeasurably, and Suri was smiling so widely that her cheeks hurt when she finally tugged back, letting Fen drop her carefully to the ground.

  Fen offered her a little smile in response, tucking a stray wisp of hair back from Suri's face. "Shall I head off to find Lucie?" they asked. "She should be arriving soon."

  "Please," Suri said, letting her head fall forward to rest on Fen's chest, just briefly. "I don't like the idea of her being alone for too long, here. What if she gets lost? What if—ahhh, why did I think this was a good idea in the first place…?"

  "It is a good idea," Fen said firmly, squeezing Suri's shoulders before nudging her back. "We've been living in Lucie's world for a long time. If you're really serious about things, she will need to get used to yours as well."

  Suri swallowed, looking down at the floor, bare toes curling in the thick carpet. If you're really serious about things. That was the crux of it, wasn't it? Suri was always so sure of her own feelings, usually so unafraid of acting on them. And now…

  Meeting Lucie had started off as a bit of fun—this strange, odd, brilliant woman that either had her head up in the clouds or buried in a book, who had seemed so perplexed when Suri had started talking to her. It had been a challenge, a bit of a game, a novelty—someone that treated her so normally despite everything. Suri really had been a visitor in Lucie's world of books, then her home, warm and small and full of cats and mice and noisy crows in the full-to-bursting little garden.

  Lucie had warmed to her slowly but surely, and Suri was so pleased, so satisfied. What had started off a pursuit of curiosity had turned into something bright and meaningful.

  And yet—maybe she wasn't really sure how Lucie felt in return. Suri had definitely thrown an unexpected kink in things with the 'surprise, princess!' situation. And now here she was, initiating more, inviting Lucie to her home, to meet her parents. What if Lucie didn't want any of this? What if she wasn't comfortable with what continuing to be with Suri would entail? What if she didn't come?

  "Princess." Fen's hands pushed insistently down on Suri's shoulders until Suri sat obediently in front of her armoire. A moment later, Fen knelt in front of her, lifting one of Suri's feet—and sliding her shoe on.

  "Fen…" Suri let out a long sigh, then a laugh, pointing her toes to make that a little easier. "Oh… I'm sorry. Here I am again."

  "There you are," Fen nodded. Their expression was serious, but their gaze was warm. "Everything is going to be fine, Suri. And even if it's not, I'll still be here with you."

  Suri found herself blinking a few times very rapidly. She'd spent an hour having her makeup done, and certainly wasn't going to allow herself to make her mascara run by crying. She swallowed hard instead, watching silently as Fen fastened the clasp on Suri's heeled shoe, then moved to the other one.

  "You know," Suri said after a moment to regain her composure, "I wouldn't be half the princess I am now if I didn't have you by my side."

  Fen flushed a little. "That's not true. I don't really do anything…"

  "Oh, but then," Suri mused aloud, tapping her finger against her cheek, "actually, maybe I would be half the princess, because I would have been chopped in two in that ambush when I was twelve!"

  "Suri!" Fen sounded horrified.

  "Or had nobody to pull me out when I fell into the pond when I was eight. You remember that one, don't you, Fen? Oh, or the time that—"

  Fen finished with the other shoe and stood up quickly, crossing their arms. "Enough! You'll make me nervous instead. Now I definitely don't want to leave your side tonight!"

  Suri let out a bright laugh, leaning back on her hands and tilting her head to gaze up at Fen with a grin. "I'll be fine," she said. "Now go on and find my girlfriend for me. Please
and thank you."

  Fen gave her one last baleful look, bending to press a kiss to Suri's knuckles before they exited the room. Suri watched them go, then turned around to face the mirror again, touching up her makeup and quickly ensuring that every curl was in place before got ready to head out.

  A few moments later, there came a knock at her door.

  "Kitten?" a familiar voice called. "Are you in there?"

  "Papa?" Surprised, Suri rose and made her way over to the door. Her father's husband, Prince Consort Pascal, stood outside with a smile. His red beard was clipped short and neat in preparation for the evening, his long hair tugged back from his handsome face and fastened in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck. He lifted up a small box to her, blue eyes crinkling at the corner when he smiled.

  "I come bearing gifts," he said, "and wanted to check in on you."

  Suri smiled, stepping back to allow him inside. "What a pleasant surprise," she said, with an exhalation of relief. Pascal had helped raise her since she was knee-height, and although she and her Father were birds of a feather, as Pascal liked to say, Pascal was the one who knew best how to keep her grounded. She held her hand out for the box, gratefully accepting it as she led the way back into her room.

  "Where's Father?" she asked, taking a seat in front of her dresser.

  "Entertaining guests, still," Pascal answered, sinking down onto a chaise lounge with a little sigh. "I managed to slip away."

  "I see," Suri said, fiddling with the ribbon. "He's still ready for tonight, right?"

  "Of course," Pascal said, smiling. "It's a big night for everyone, but I'm sure things with Prince Kilkastel will go smoothly."

  Suri blinked, looking up. "I meant…" she trailed off slowly. "With Lucie coming to meet you."

  "Oh." Pascal blinked, then gave a little laugh. "Of course, that as well."

  Something seemed… off. Suri frowned, setting the box back down on her dresser.

  Pascal's eyes followed the movement, then flicked back up to her face. "What's wrong, kitten?" he asked. "You don't want it?"

  "You left Father alone?" Suri asked slowly. "You never do that during events like these."

  Pascal's brows creased slightly. "He's fine, darling. There's nothing to be worried about—"

  “Nothing to worry about?” Suri echoed. “No… I suppose not.” Alarm bells began to sound in the back of Suri's head. Her pulse began to quicken. She glanced briefly at the door, then back over to Pascal—only to find him staring at her intently, his soft smile slowly turning into a dark frown.

  Both Suri and the intruder moved at once.

  Suri sprang to her feet and started to dash for the door, but the intruder was quicker. His wrist grabbed hers, wrenching her arm behind her back. A hand covered her mouth, muffling her shrill scream.

  "This would have been easier if you'd played along," the intruder—not Papa—sighed, jerking her head up to look at him.

  She tried to drive her leg back to spike his foot with one of her heels, but her vision was blotting out fast and her knees weakened as she met his gaze, suddenly bright yellow and slit-pupilled.

  I've got to warn Father, she thought, as everything went dark.

  Foxglove

  Foxglove wasn't very familiar with how parties ought to be, but by now he was pretty confident that there was something incredibly wrong with this one.

  It had started off fine enough. He'd chalked it up to nerves—worried about being discovered, concerned that something would go sour for Lucie, generally just anxious on her behalf. He was constantly on alert, watching Lucie's back as always, staring down anybody who looked like they might consider approaching a petite, lost-looking brunette and silently imploring them to reconsider. He wasn't altogether fond of the sheer number of humans surrounding him, but that really wasn't the worst part.

  He smelled magic.

  At first, he'd assumed it was just because of the other Pavrans in the area, but there really weren't that many demons, just a handful accompanying the occasional witch. Most of the witches didn't smell like anything—like Lucie, they gave off practically no trace of magic unless they'd been very recently spellcasting. Foxglove himself had been very careful to do nothing but shapeshift for the last day or two, so any traces on himself should be minimal, unless someone was actively trying to sniff him out.

  He couldn't imagine that anyone in the Vieran castle would regularly use magic, for obvious reasons. So why, then, was there that crawling feeling at the back of his neck? And, did none of the other Pavrans or their demons notice anything was amiss?

  They wouldn't, Foxglove realized, after some thought. The Pavrans likely had little context for what Vie was normally like. They wouldn't notice anything was unusual because they were used to being surrounded by magic and simply tuned it out. Meanwhile, the Vierans wouldn't know a magic spell if it hit them in the face.

  But Foxglove knew.

  He stayed close to Lucie, hovering at her side as they made a slow circuit around the banquet hall. Past that was the Royal Ballroom—off-limits without an escort, so it was here that they waited for Fen, as agreed. They found a quiet spot tucked away near the exit to one of the balconies. Lucie wallflowered herself immediately, watching distant fireworks through the wide windowpane with owlish inattention.

  "Lucie," Foxglove murmured, leaning his head close. "Have you noticed anything… odd?"

  Lucie tilted her head at him. "Odd? What do you mean?"

  Of course. Absentminded Lucie probably wouldn't be the best one to ask. Foxglove shook his head, forcing a quick smile. "Never mind," he said. "Don't mind me."

  She looked dubious, but seemed to think better about questioning him, and was quickly lost again in her own thoughts. That, at least, left Foxglove free to continue scanning the room, one arm crossed over his chest as he sipped a glass of wine and tapped his foot to release some nervous energy. Was he just imagining things? Was his anxiety about the situation just turning shadows into monsters?

  No—there.

  A server in a sharp black suit had bumped into a table, causing it to wobble. A wine glass toppled off, plunging towards the hard stone floor. Despite having one hand free, the man twisted quickly, looking behind him—and watched it smash to the floor.

  There was a brief lull in conversation, and then another server was hurrying over to sweep up the mess. Guests, whose heads had turned at the noise, then quickly lost interest.

  But Foxglove's eyes were locked on the first server, the man that was now sopping up wine he had spilled on one white cuff. Foxglove recognized that gesture, a quick turn and glance down to the limb that should have caught the glass, but didn't. A tail that should have been there, but wasn't.

  You're imagining things, Foxglove. Jumping at shadows.

  He grabbed Lucie's hand. "Hey, come with me," he whispered.

  Lucie's eyes widened in confusion behind her cat-mask, but she ducked her head in a quick nod, following closely behind Foxglove as he began to weave his way through the crowd after the wine-stained man. "Is everything alright?" she whispered.

  "It's fine," Foxglove murmured. "I just thought I saw something…"

  "Saw something?"

  The wine-stained man was heading for one of the balcony doors. He glanced quickly behind him, then opened it, stepping out into the night.

  "Let's go get some fresh air," Foxglove said. "This way."

  Lucie clicked her tongue lightly behind her teeth, but followed. Foxglove recognized the sound as her temper rising, frustrated that he was being cagey—but what was he going to say? He might be imagining all of this. It might just be his paranoia getting the better of him.

  They stepped out into the night, the door closing quietly behind them. The balcony faced the front area of the palace, overlooking a sea of bobbing lights and colorful lanterns. Up above, the occasional noisy burst of fireworks lit up the night sky, casting flickering shadows along the long stone rail of the balcony.

  Foxglove took a few steps
forward, fingers loosening their grip on Lucie's, and let out a soft curse. The balcony was small, only a few feet wide in either direction, about four storeys off the ground—and it was currently completely empty.

  "Fox, what's going on?" Lucie demanded, stepping forward to brace her hands on his shoulders. "You're really starting to worry me."

  "I thought I saw someone," Foxglove said slowly. He took a step back, reaching for Lucie's hand again. "We should go back inside again. I don't want to talk out here." If there really was something going on, he thought, who knows who would be listening? Inside was better—the noise of the crowd would cover it up. And Lucie would be safer there.

  Lucie's safety is all that matters.

  That thought made him pause. If it really was dangerous here, he should just take Lucie and leave the party entirely. She and Suri might be a little upset about it but, in the end, they'd probably work it out. Foxglove had no loyalty to anybody here. If something suspicious was happening at the Vieran palace, quite frankly, that was no business at all of a demon contracted to an ex-Pavran orphan.

  And yet…

  Before Foxglove could follow up on that thought, he felt Lucie seize his hand with both of hers as they stepped back into the banquet hall. He glanced down at her to find her cheek pressed against his arm, lashes downcast.

  "…I can tell someone we need to go," Lucie said softly. "I want to see Suri. I want to resolve things with her and meet her parents. But if something's upsetting you, we should go, alright?"

  Something clenched hard in Foxglove's chest. No loyalty, he thought.

  Not to anybody except her.

  Turning quickly, he tugged Lucie into his arms, a tight embrace. "No," he said immediately. "We can stay. I'm probably just being paranoid. I… keep thinking I smell magic. And then I saw someone do something… a little odd. One of the servers. I thought maybe he was a demon. But when I followed him out onto the balcony, there was nobody there at all."

  "A demon?" Lucie whispered back. "As a server? That doesn't make sense."

  "I know. Honestly," Foxglove said, "the more I think about it, the more I'm probably just—"