Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  I want you to not take other girls out to parties, I thought, mad. But I didn’t say it, partly because it was unreasonable. I could practically say the same thing to him about Jontan.

  “Besides,” he whispered in my ear, “I’m not that interested in gluttons.”

  His eyes flicked over to the refreshment table, and I followed that glance. Gendri had stormed over there and was loading up on sticksweets. I bit back a snort of laughter.

  Derrim smiled and took my waist. “Let’s dance,” he said.

  He spun me out onto the dance floor, launching both of us into a complicated latticework that showed off his incredible skill to great effect. I stumbled and fell repeatedly, and while his status shot up as the people around us watched, mine stumbled and fell every time I did.

  Perhaps noticing this, he chose a simple twirl step after this that I was pretty good at doing. The showiest part of that step relied on the woman’s gown, and my skirts were crimson with a vivid orange petticoat, so they flared to great advantage. By the end of the second dance, I was doing rather better in status, he was further up himself, and we were both breathless and panting.

  “Dizzy,” I giggled, doubling over and gasping for breath. “Do you want to dance with anyone else?”

  “Nah,” Derrim said with a teasing grin. “I want to rest, too.”

  We headed off to one of the side tables, me teetering as I tried to catch my balance, laughing as we sat down. Derrim straightened his socks.

  “Are you going to ask me to a third dance?” I asked coyly.

  “Of course not,” he said, looking over the crowd in narrow-eyed concentration.

  I was a little annoyed by that. Protocol demanded that you dance no less than one dance with your escort and no more than two unless you were engaged, so of course he wasn’t going to. But I kind of wished he was tempted to ask me.

  “Derrim,” I began, “where exactly do you think this relationship is goi—”

  “The high seats!” he said suddenly.

  I stared at him, off-balance. “Wh-what?”

  “Let’s go up to the high seats!” he said. His eyes gleamed.

  My heart clenched. “But that’s for people who want to make a spectacle of themselves!” I protested.

  “Or who are very, very confident,” he grinned.

  Well. When he put it that way . . .

  “I did tell my sister I would bring back lots of status,” I said slowly.

  “Then come on!” he said, grabbing my hand. “Let’s go!”

  We pushed through the crowd to reach the center of the room. I was already starting to have second thoughts.

  “What are we going to do up there?” I demanded, as Derrim pushed his way past a couple who were dressed unfashionably. “I don’t know how to play that stone game!”

  All of the couples in the high seats were old or middle-aged, and they were all playing some game with colored stones and a woven mat that I wasn’t familiar with.

  “That’s exactly the point,” Derrim said. He paused to let a woman with a high level of status pass, and then pushed forward again. “The high seats are boring right now. No one’s even glancing up except to thank the hosts. Look.”

  I looked. He was right. The only status flowing up there was to the middle-aged Entals, who smiled and waved whenever someone sent some status their way, and who were otherwise intent on their game.

  “So . . .”

  “. . . we’re going to liven things up!” he finished.

  “How?” I asked with some misgivings.

  Derrim grinned. “Do you trust me?”

  I eyed him. “N—”

  He pulled me forward, arm around my waist. “Say yes,” he whispered.

  My heart fluttered. “O-okay,” I said.

  “Great!” He dragged me forward, up the steps towards the high seats, and then waited at the edge of the dais until most of the room seemed to have noticed us.

  “You’re irresistible!” he cried, dipped me, and kissed me.

  The crowd burst out into cheers and applause and some laughter, and huge swishes of status flew our way. One or two of the older couples on the dais looked up with annoyed sniffs of disapproval, but the rest looked mildly amused. My ears were ringing with the status that kept zooming at me.

  My cheeks flushed with disbelief. “Why did you do that?!” I hissed to him.

  “Why not?” he whispered back, impishly. “You’ve been kissed before, haven’t you?”

  “Yyyesssss . . .” But Jontan doesn’t kiss like THAT, I wanted to say. Or in FRONT of people! What were you THINKING?!

  “Want to do it again?” he whispered grinning.

  “No!” I whispered furiously.

  A gouge of status shot out of me. I winced and jerked back, my eyes shooting around to see who was the culprit. My eyes met Gendri’s, which were blazing.

  “We need to get down!” I hissed to Derrim urgently.

  “Why?” he whispered back, taking a deep bow to the crowd. Several more people burst out laughing, and another surge of status shot our way. “We’re a huge hit! We could stay up here for the whole party!”

  “Because Gendri’s down there, and she hates me!”

  Derrim’s gaze flickered as he seemed to note my lowered status. “Yeah, so?”

  “So she’s going to keep on dinging me if we stay up here!” I whispered furiously.

  “So what?” Derrim repeated. “Just retaliate.”

  I hesitated, looking down below us. Everyone had noticed Gendri’s jab, I was sure of it — that big of a snatch would have been hard to miss. But what was I supposed to do? Tug it all back? We could be yanking the same status back and forth between us all night. That wouldn’t impress anybody!

  “If it helps,” Derrim murmured in my ear, “she’s dropped a sticksweet on the hem of her dress.”

  I looked and saw it: red and sticky, like a lump of chikweeds in the middle of a pale white speckie bouquet. Silver and cream don’t look good on her anyway, I thought angrily.

  “Well, at least I don’t have trouble reaching my mouth,” I called loudly, pointing disdainfully at Gendri. “Or are hems the latest fashion for a sticksweet?”

  Heads turned to stare at Gendri. Murmurs of disapproval rolled across the crowd. A tide of castigation blasted towards Gendri, ripping status away, small bit by tiny bit.

  She screamed, burst into tears, and fled the room, gushing status in a ripple of reproof behind her.

  Derrim held his sides, gasping back chortles of laughter. “That was epic,” he said.

  No, it wasn’t, I thought.

  I stared at Derrim like a stranger. He thought that was funny. He really thought that was funny.

  And I chose you over Jontan? What was wrong with me?

  I had never felt more empty.

  4

  As always, I woke up dull and sick after spending time with Derrim. Though this morning, it was much worse than usual.

  I pulled a blanket over my head. Fluffweave strands rubbed off in my hair and tingled my nose. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep seeing Derrim, can’t keep acting the way he encourages me. That is NOT the kind of person I want to marry.

  But where did that leave me? Jontan?

  I felt faintly despairing.

  “Raneh?” Grandmother’s gentle knock tapped at my door. “Someone’s downstairs to see you. It’s Jontan.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Of course. Because I couldn’t possibly get a break today. Not that I deserved one, anyway.

  “I’ll be right down!” I called, pushing the fluffweave blanket off me. It slid to the ground in a puddled heap. A strand tickled my nose, and I sneezed. I stared up at my ceiling for strength — its orange-and-red fire swirls always soothed me. My mother found them stressful, but they felt comforting to me.

  “I can do this,” I said to myself quietly.

  I pulled a pale blue morning dress over my shift, then pulled up my stockings. I looked at myself in the full-length mi
rror that took up one whole wall. I looked presentable — messy, with my hair only just pinned up from yesterday, but sufficiently decent for the morning. And this was Jontan. He probably wouldn’t even notice, anyway.

  Jontan was waiting patiently as I came down the stairs.

  “You made quite a spectacle of yourself last night,” he said mildly.

  I cringed. “You saw that?”

  “Of course. I was there with Suellen.”

  Of course. Why had I thought he wouldn’t be there? She was the other girl he was courting.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, humiliated. “He didn’t ask before he did that. He just —”

  “Oh, I know,” Jontan said calmly. “That isn’t your sort of thing.”

  I hesitated. Part of me was glad he meant that, but a little bit of me was irritated, as well. “It’s not completely not my sort of thing,” I argued. “I do take risks, you know.”

  “And they turn out very well for you, I’m sure.” Jontan looked amused.

  “Okay, so Derrim was a bad risk,” I muttered. “I won’t be going anywhere else with him. Happy?”

  “Indeed.” Jontan looked pleased.

  I glared at him. “Is there a reason you came here?”

  “Of course.” Jontan pulled a hat out of his pocket, shook it, and placed it on his head. It hung crookedly. “I thought I’d help you out in your garden today.”

  My heart softened a bit. He knew I liked to spend time in my garden every morning. Not that he knew why, but the gesture was still sweet.

  “I’m not so sure . . .” I said hesitantly. “I mean, I usually like to do it alone.”

  “Come on.” Jontan held up his grubby fingernails. He smiled. “I’ve run out of weeds in my own.”

  I started laughing. “All right,” I said. “You can help. If you’re so desperate for weeds to pull.”

  Mother was already out in her garden, stripping the thorns off a greenberry branch, or something similar. I could tell by the rustling.

  “Hi, Mother!” I called as we passed.

  “Hello, Raneh!” she called over the high fence.

  “Good morning, mother of the Freshgrown family!” Jontan greeted.

  I clutched my forehead. Did he always have to be so formal with my family?

  “Hello, Jontan,” she called back, sounding like she was stifling a laugh. “I’ll be gathering tonna berries for breakfast soon. Do you want some?”

  “No, thank you,” he said politely, with a note of disgust in his voice.

  I chortled silently. Jontan was the only person I’d ever heard of who didn’t like tonna berries.

  “Your loss!” she called cheerfully, and the branches started rustling again.

  “Is that your garden?” Jontan asked, pointing at Yaika’s.

  “Err, no,” I said as we passed Father’s. “That’s not mine, either,” I added hastily as Hurik’s sagging fence came into view.

  “Well, no,” Jontan said with amusement. “I guessed that. Who hates gardening?”

  “Hurik,” I grumbled.

  Jontan’s eyebrows quirked. “Does he have any interests at all?”

  “Apparently just food,” I said gloomily.

  “Ahhh!” Jontan said, spotting the red adlies spilling over my fence. “So that one is yours!”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I can tell by the colors.”

  I looked. Okay, he was right. Almost all of my flowers were red, orange, or yellow. “I like those shades,” I said sheepishly.

  “I know,” he said. “I almost never see you in anything else.”

  “Blue’s boring,” I protested, tugging at my sleeve. “Red’s exciting.”

  He laughed, shaking his head.

  I pulled the latch open, and he followed me in. I swallowed, nervous about letting a person who wasn’t in my family see my own private space. He looked around, surveying the edges.

  “I see spikeshoots near your adly vines’ roots,” he said. “And there’s slipgrass in your thayflowers. I assume you want those removed.”

  I nodded jerkily, trying not to look too obviously at the large central part of my garden. “I . . . I’ll just weed my . . . filias.”

  “Good idea,” Jontan approved. He pulled a small spade from his pocket and started teasing out slipgrass roots. A minty scent filled the air. “You wouldn’t want to grow any groverweed.”

  My throat constricted. “R-Right. No. Never. Um, don’t worry. I can usually tell the difference between them.”

  “Can you?” Jontan asked, not looking up. “I have a terrible problem with mine. The plants look identical before they bloom, and if you don’t catch those ugly buds immediately, it’s too late.”

  “Uh huh,” I said noncommittally, squishing a filias underfoot and plopping carefully into a patch of groverweed. I touched one of the broad leaves.

  “And the worst part is,” Jontan went on, piling up a stack of carefully extracted slipgrass behind him, “you can’t even get your magicians to help remove them! They absorb any magic that comes near.”

  “Uh . . . yeah.” I pushed my magic far into the groverweed, which sucked it up eagerly. “I think I’ve heard that.”

  “I’ve heard, in the really bad infestations,” Jontan said in a lowered voice, “they actually burn the ground to get rid of everything. Filias, roots, seeds, everything. Can you believe that?”

  “Well, if the groverweed has taken over . . .” I began absently. The plant in front of me flourished and unfurled several buds. Blackened lumps blossomed and spurted me with grey pollen dust like reeked faintly like ash. Argh!

  Fortunately, Jontan still had his back turned. “I mean, it wouldn’t be so bad if groverweed was actually useful for something. But you can’t eat it, you can’t make clothing out of it, and the flowers are the ugliest things I’ve ever seen. Have you ever seen one in full bloom?”

  “Uhhh . . .” I stared at several in front of me in dismay. “Nope. Never.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t want to,” Jontan said fervently. “They look like something dead and rotten. Plus monstrous stems from right behind the ovaries that try to root themselves before it’s even grown seeds!”

  “You don’t say,” I said, grappling with a pair of runners. They dodged my hands and planted themselves firmly. The ovaries swelled, and petals crumbled off in puffs of black soot. “What happens then?”

  “Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it,” Jontan said, “thankfully.”

  I snapped the seed pods off and shoved them under the dirt. A moment later, tiny shoots shot up in thick clumps. I beheaded those flowers before they grew seeds.

  This is not relaxing me, I thought indignantly.

  “It’s the worst weed in the whole Rulership,” Jontan went on doggedly. “At least itchroot and stinkburr and stinging thornweed respond when someone withers them magically. But groverweed not only flourishes from any magic tried, it never releases it! Ever!”

  I yanked the magic from those groverweed shoots, momentarily dizzied by the power surging through me. Then I shoved it down into the rest of the patch. Buds exploded out all over the place.

  Arrrghhhhh, I thought. This was another problem with my magic that no other magician seemed to have. Mine grew back faster, and stronger, every single day.

  What would happen if I took the oath of magic? I wondered, standing unsteadily. Would it all straighten out if I did?

  But I didn’t want to lose my status. To be dependent on another landowner family, just another vassal, except a little bit more useful . . . my heart clenched at the thought.

  I snatched the magic out of the older plants, bleeding it only into the smaller shoots instead. That slowed the growth enough for me to snap off all the flower buds. Then I remembered my dress. I shoved magic into that, enhancing its cleanliness, which poofed grey pollen ash down into the leaves.

  There, I thought with relief.

  “Well, that’s it for the slipgrass,” Jontan said, se
tting aside his spade. “Do you want help with the spikeshoots?”

  “Uh,” I said, feeling lightheaded. I closed my eyes, fighting dizziness. “Yeah. Sure. That would be great.”

  I heard his spade dig into the soil. Chump. Chump. Chump. By the time I regained my strength, he had all the spikeshoots carefully uprooted.

  “Here you go,” he said, holding up one handful of shoots and another one of slipgrass. “I believe these can be used for seasoning and those for dyes, can’t they?”

  “Yeah.” I was grateful he’d remembered. Wasting useful plants was unwise, and wasting food was an unpardonable offense. “I don’t think we need yellow dye at the moment, but Grandmother won’t mind having a few extra materials. And Father likes spikeshoots.”

  “So do I,” Jontan said, grinning. “Mother actually grows them on purpose for me.”

  I shook my head. He didn’t like tonna berries, and he did like spikeshoots? Honestly.

  You know, I really do like Jontan, I thought, smiling as I opened the gate. Maybe that’s all that matters. Maybe . . .

  “Jontan?” I said hesitantly. “What would you do if you knew somebody was breaking the law? Something really . . . bad, say?”

  “Inform the Ruler immediately.”

  My jaw dropped. “Inform the Ruler? Really?”

  “Of course. That’s the law.”

  “But what if it were your mother? What if it were your sister?”

  “Inform the Ruler immediately.”

  He hadn’t even stopped to think.

  I gaped at him. “Really?”

  Jontan gave me a quizzical look. “Well, what else would one do with a traitor?”

  I just stared at him.

  Jontan patted me on the shoulder. “It’s your brother’s garden, isn’t it? Don’t worry. I’m sure it seems bad, but your parents are bound to fill it before harvest season.”

  “Of course.” I swallowed. “I’m sure they will. Thanks.”

  Jontan smiled and headed back along the path to the house.

  What else would one do with a traitor, he’d said.

  Really, Jontan? I thought incredulously. Really?!