by Cayla Kluver
I smoothed the skirt of my blush-pink gown, thinking I could relate to his sentiments about dress clothes. It was unlike him, though—Celdrid had always enjoyed special occasions. He’d been a charmer just like Papa, and had known that the cuter he looked, the more likely adults were to fawn over him. But this was beyond objection—he wouldn’t let Mother anywhere near him with the clothes in question.
“It’s not silly,” my mother pleaded, trying to calm him. “It’s not even overly fancy. I just want you to look nice for your uncle and Steldor when they arrive.”
“It doesn’t matter how I look.”
I could hardly believe how belligerently he was behaving. I heard my older sister come into the house behind me—she’d been out with Lord Drael, her betrothed, but had returned shortly before our relatives were to arrive. Like me, her attention was captured by the argument taking place upstairs.
“Is Celdrid—” Dahnath’s question was cut off by the sound of something shattering.
“Leave me alone!”
“Darling, just—”
“Don’t call me darling!”
Dahnath and I exchanged a glance, both of us thinking the struggle might be getting out of control and silently deciding I should be the one to intercede. Celdrid felt closer to me because I had been closer to Papa.
I hurried up the stairs, but as I went down the hall toward my brother’s room, he sprinted past me in a half-buttoned white shirt and a pair of breeches. My mother followed, clutching the doublet she had been trying to get him to wear, one hand pressed against her forehead.
“Celdrid!” I called, dashing after him, striving to catch him before he fled the house. By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, he was at the door, having dodged around Dahnath.
“Come back here!” she snapped, adding to the pandemonium.
He flung open the door, about to escape, only to be caught around the waist by Steldor.
“Slow down, soldier!” our startled cousin exclaimed, holding on tight.
Celdrid squirmed and fought until Steldor took hold of his upper arm and pulled him around. Forced to look the cousin he revered in the eye, my brother’s boldness evaporated, and he stared uncomfortably at the floor. Steldor knelt down, then glanced up at Cannan as if unsure what to do.
“Let me go…please,” Celdrid mumbled.
“And where is it you plan to go?” Steldor asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“I don’t…I don’t know.” My brother sniffed, his anger giving way to the sadness that had brought it on in the first place.
Standing up, Steldor tousled the boy’s dark hair. “Let’s just stay here. I have something for you anyway.”
Celdrid shifted his weight from foot to foot for a few moments before nodding.
“Good day, Uncle,” Dahnath cheerfully greeted Cannan, regaining her senses before I did and unintentionally making me seem rude.
“Good day, Dahnath. Shaselle.” Cannan nodded to each of us, and I flashed a brilliant smile, hoping to redeem myself.
Ever since Uncle and I had talked in the barn, I had been trying—honestly trying—to behave more sensibly. I had not raised my voice to my mother in nearly three weeks, hadn’t said so much as a disrespectful word, even though she and Cannan had arranged for a suitor to join us at dinner tonight. I had hoped being more sympathetic and understanding might make life easier for me, too, but thus far it hadn’t helped.
Mother appeared at the second-floor landing, having taken a moment to straighten up after her struggle with Celdrid, and some of the tension left her body when she saw that he was still within the house.
“Cannan, Steldor, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said a bit breathlessly, coming to join us. “Although I’m sorry you had to witness the end of that dispute.”
“No apology necessary,” the former Captain of the Guard responded, sparing a glance for Celdrid to let him know he was not in trouble. “Steldor,” he then prompted.
“I’ll take care of him,” Steldor told my mother, motioning to Celdrid’s haphazard dress, and he deftly ushered my brother past us and up the stairs.
My mother touched a hand to her temple. “I just don’t know what to do with him, Cannan.”
I examined her worried face, astonished at how forthcoming she was about her feelings. She needed to confide in someone, and the head of the family was the obvious choice, but she didn’t generally speak so candidly in front of her children. Was this another sign that we older girls were to shoulder more responsibility?
“Do your best,” the captain said simply. “Steldor and Galen will spend time with him, and I’ll do everything I can. There’s no easy remedy.”
“I’m afraid that’s the only truth in this house.”
Her words were slightly embittered, and my sister and I looked anywhere but at her and my uncle.
“Come, Lania,” Cannan said, breaking the silence. “I have some financial matters to discuss with you.”
Money was not a topic generally discussed with Hytanican women, but Mother wanted to know our situation, and Cannan was willing to oblige. We were nowhere near short of funds, but without a working male in the home, it was essential to take note of our expenditures.
Cannan and Mother adjourned to the parlor, and Dahnath and I were joined by Steldor and a fully dressed Celdrid. The four of us went out into the hot but breezy late June weather, Dahnath and Steldor settling on a bench in a shaded area of our yard and Celdrid and me on the grass.
“I’m keeping an eye on you, so you best behave,” Steldor teased my brother with a wink, and the corners of Celdrid’s mouth turned up. Even when everything was hopeless, my twenty-two-year-old cousin could strike a spark.
I had always worshipped Steldor and his best friend, Galen. As a young girl, I’d followed them around whether they’d wanted me to or not—climbed trees with them, raced horses with them, gotten into trouble with them. When I’d grown older, their conversations had been more fascinating than those of my mother, sisters or any other members of the nobility, and I had loved to listen, despite the razzing I would sometimes receive from them for being neither a typical girl nor a boy.
Since the war, my admiration for Steldor had increased all the more. He was bold, fearless and answered to no one. And despite our kingdom’s loss of independence, he still bucked Cokyri’s authority, for every Hytanican knew what he and Galen had done. There was little doubt that they had been the ones behind the revised regulations, which now had everyone reading the High Priestess’s rules with surreptitious smirks. Even my serious and sensible uncle couldn’t keep Steldor from invigorating his countrymen—and I knew Cannan would have tried, both to protect his son and because he was working with Queen Alera. But Steldor had no interest in being protected, a sentiment to which I could relate.
Dahnath, Celdrid and I spent a pleasant hour in Steldor’s company, though we could all tell when the youngest among us began to grow jaded with the conversation. My brother was hard to entertain of late—he couldn’t stay content with anything for very long.
“I have an idea, Celdrid,” Steldor said, after exchanging subtle glances with Dahnath and me.
The eleven-year-old looked up from the blades of grass he was plucking, but didn’t respond.
“Why don’t we leave your sisters here and go see what I brought for you?”
At this, my brother perked up. “Where is it? I mean, you didn’t have to bring anything for me, but since you did�
�”
“It’s in the barn.” Steldor laughed, tipping his head in the direction of the outbuilding. I understood what he was doing—it was probable that Cannan had put him up to it. Celdrid hadn’t wanted anything to do with horses or the barn since Papa’s death. A good first step would be to help him overcome that instinctive, self-protective aversion.
Celdrid hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip as he glanced to the building in question. “Can you bring it over here?”
“Well, I could,” Steldor drawled. “But I thought the point was to be rid of the girls.”
He motioned to Dahnath and me, and my sister hit him lightly on the arm.
“Whatever you do, Celdrid, don’t grow up to be like him,” Dahnath joked, and Celdrid grinned.
“Besides, your present’s a secret,” Steldor added. “No one but me knows what it is.”
Eyes growing wide, Celdrid asked, “Not even Uncle Cannan?”
“Not even him.”
Steldor stood and offered a hand to my brother, then in a single motion swung the boy up and onto his back. The two of them moved away from us, and Dahnath and I went back indoors, she to assist the younger girls with their grooming while I freshened up in anticipation of my suitor’s arrival. I also needed to check how much dirt I’d collected on the back of my dress.
Although no change of clothes was required, I did have to sit in poor temper as Dahnath and Mother attempted to style my hair, which had been a mistake to leave damp and loose after my bath. Over the course of the humid day, it had expanded and grown fuzzy, and now resembled a horse’s tail.
“I have to check on the other girls,” Mother said. She had sent my siblings to help our cook with dinner preparations, and none of us particularly trusted their skills or attention spans. This left Dahnath to fight the battle alone. At long last, she redampened my tresses, pulling the strands into a single plait down my back. My straight hair would be wavy—tomorrow.
By this time, Steldor and Celdrid had returned to the house and everyone was ready for our guest to join us. He arrived precisely on time, at six o’clock. My family stood courteously behind our chairs at the dining table while Cannan answered the door. He led the young man into the room and Steldor went to greet him, saying something about it being a pleasure to meet; which meant my cousin didn’t know him; which meant he wasn’t in Steldor’s rowdy group of friends; which was a disappointment to me, but probably a good thing overall—and would definitely be a good thing in my mother’s eyes.
“Lord Taether, the lady of the house, Lady Lania,” Cannan said, beginning the introductions. “Her son, Lord Celdrid, and her eldest daughters, Lady Dahnath and Lady Shaselle.”
As was customary, the younger girls required no introduction and would say little during the meal. I stepped back to make myself known and curtseyed.
At once, Lord Taether approached and took my hand, offering a bow.
“An honor to meet you, my lady.”
“And you…my lord.”
For some reason it was difficult to form the proper words. Deep inside, I could feel myself pulling frantically away from him. He hadn’t done anything to provoke such a reaction from me, but still I didn’t want to be anywhere near him. I forced myself to breathe, working hard to admit he was relatively attractive. Curly chocolate hair met his dark eyebrows, beneath which were two perfectly fine blue eyes. His nose wasn’t truly as big as it looked upon first glance, and his soft pink lips were well-shaped. But there wasn’t even a tiny part of me that wanted to kiss them.
We stood awkwardly for a moment, then Cannan indicated to the servant who waited by the kitchen doors that we were ready to be served. We all took our seats, Lord Taether politely pulling my chair out before settling in next to me. The meal began with delicious vegetable soup, served in our best dishes with our very best cutlery, then progressed to wild boar, provided by Cannan and difficult to come by in these times. Of course, for those living on the streets, the biscuits we commonly ate with tea would have been a luxury.
“So, Shaselle, tell me,” Lord Taether said unexpectedly, having spent his time thus far conversing with—and trying to impress—Cannan and Steldor. “What are your hobbies?”
“Well, I…” I looked at my plate, scrunching the linen napkin in my lap. “I don’t…I don’t really have any.”
My answer was decisive. I didn’t want to lie and say stitchery—he’d probably want me to mend his socks. And I couldn’t tell the truth and say horseback riding.
Cannan’s eyebrows lifted slightly at my response and Mother glanced at me with pursed lips, but Taether chuckled. He was being good-humored about this at least.
“Come, there must be some particularly pleasurable way in which you spend your time. Perhaps we could arrange another day to do what you most enjoy.”
Again, that strange urge to be far, far away from him seized me. “Actually, I enjoy eating. I like dinner. We should just have dinner.”
Cannan cleared his throat in an understated manner, but Mother breathed my name with a distinct lack of subtlety.
“All right,” Taether said, maintaining politeness despite his confusion. “Well then, I shall hope to be graced with your company at dinner on another occasion.”
I nodded, the only sound I could produce a noncommittal “Mmm-hmm.”
What was wrong with me? I was being purposefully boorish and he didn’t deserve it, but God help me, I wanted him to dislike me so I wouldn’t have to see him again.
Both Taether and I glanced around the table, not quite comfortable looking at each other anymore, and my interest was captured by Steldor, for he was up to something. He had folded the corners of his napkin—our best dinner lace—to make something of a pouch, and was pointing between it and his plate of food with a devilish twinkle in his eye.
Cannan had started up a conversation with my mother about the household, oblivious to his son’s actions. I cocked my head, thoroughly bewildered, then followed Steldor’s gaze to Celdrid, who was trying not to grin as he snuck bits of gravy-soaked meat into his napkin.
With my brother awaiting the next instruction, Steldor moved his napkin to rest alongside Lesette’s plate, quickly and discreetly snatching hers so that his became its replacement. Celdrid mimicked him motion for motion, placing his soiled linen beside Ganya’s place setting, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
It was a few minutes at most before Ganya picked up the cloth to dab her mouth. She gave a small shriek, dropped it on her plate, and stared at her gravy-slimed hand, a perfect match to her gravy-slimed chin, her pallid cheeks blossoming like red roses. Celdrid shook with the giggles, bringing smiles to his other sisters’ faces for no reason other than the relief we felt that he could still make such a sound.
“Ganya, what in heaven’s name…” Mother began, trailing off at sight of the mess and her youngest daughter’s flustered expression.
“I—I don’t know, Mother, I…” she stuttered, as Dahnath quickly handed her another napkin. “I didn’t do this!”
“Just keep your voice down.”
Ganya seemed to shrink in her chair, then Mother fixed her eyes on her son—it was obvious the boy had done something, for he was laughing much too hard.
“Celdrid?”
“I haven’t a clue, Mama,” he answered, sobering a bit at her warning tone. “Maybe I used the wrong napkin?”
Steldor winked at him from across the table.
“Yes, I’m sure that’s what happened,” Mothe
r charitably replied. “Ganya, it’s all right, dear. You are excused to wash your hands.”
None among us wanted to reprimand Celdrid, especially not when he was laughing for the first time in what honestly felt like years. Then something unpredictable occurred.
“I can tell you what happened.” It was Taether, sounding quite appalled. “Young Celdrid thought he would play a trick and obviously believes he can get away with it by lying. I saw the whole thing.”
Though all eyes had been on my suitor, they now shifted to my brother, who was staring at the tabletop, his lower lip trembling.
“It’s all right, Celdrid,” Steldor interceded with a smirk. “Beg pardon, Ganya—I put him up to it. It may not be an appropriate thing to teach him, but it sure is fun.”
I could see amusement in the captain’s eyes, and Celdrid giggled again. Taether, however, set down his fork, implying he had lost his appetite. Shenanigans did not seem to suit his tastes. A discomfited silence reigned until Cannan suggested to my mother that she have the servants bring out dessert, and we slipped back into a table manner that bore some resemblance to sanity.
Following the meal, we had wine in the parlor, then I was expected to spend additional time with Taether. He approached me to suggest a walk in the evening air, and I agreed out of courtesy, excusing myself to retrieve a shawl from my bedroom. It wasn’t long after I reached the second floor that I heard footsteps behind me, and I hastened to close my door, hoping she would be deterred. She was not.
“Shaselle, you have been rude to Lord Taether all evening,” Mother said in a dangerous whisper, entering my room without knocking.
I bit my tongue, for this would not be a good time for an argument, then turned to my wardrobe to retrieve the wrap.
“I thought you had become more receptive to the idea of marriage,” she continued.
“I’m not receptive to it. I just wanted to stop being a problem, but evidently I can’t. There’s something wrong with me.”