Winter's Bees

by E. E. Ottoman

  It was done. Their engagement was official and the binding together of their families, fortunes, names, and titles signed by all the stake-holding parties witnessed by the emperor himself. For some nobles, a simple handshake or exchange of gifts could legally seal an engagement, but for a member of the royal family it had to be in writing and signed to prove the engagement had happened with the blessing of all the important parties. The important parties in this case being the emperor and the Marquise de Montespan. It was very much like the few treaty signings he'd been allowed to sit in on and one of the least romantic things Gilbert had been party to.

  "Congratulations!" Henri-André beamed at both of them.

  There was a knock on the door, and Henri-André answered it, waving in a servant carrying a very expensive bottle of champagne and a tray of flutes.

  The servant poured and handed them out, and Henri-André held his up in a toast. "To Marcel and Gilbert, long might you be happy in your marriage together, and may this bring our families closer."

  "Yes, indeed." The marquise beamed back, raising her glass, and Marcel and Gilbert did the same.

  They all drank, Gilbert wishing it was something stronger than champagne.

  "We were thinking to make the public announcement at the Christmas ball," Henri-André said to the marquise, who nodded.

  "Very good, very appropriate as long as we keep it tasteful." She sipped her champagne.

  "Mother." Marcel leaned over to catch her ear. "If you don't mind, I would like to take a little time alone with Gilbert, to speak and exchange gifts, now that we are engaged." He smiled up at Gilbert as he said the last, and Gilbert looked away, not knowing what to do about the way his chest constricted.

  "Of course." She waved her hand. "Henri-André and I have things to speak about as well."

  "Thank you." He kissed her cheek and then nodded at Gilbert.

  Gilbert picked up the box with his engagement present in it with fingers that felt a little numb. Then he reached for both his and Marcel's glasses with the other hand.

  He followed Marcel out of the office and down the hall, heading towards his own wing of the house. Marcel marched them straight to the smallest and most used of Gilbert's sitting rooms, right by his bedroom. The sitting room was decked out in old, well-used furniture that was comfortable rather than the heavy pieces that filled the rest of the palace. There was already a fire laid in the hearth, crackling warmly.

  As soon as they stepped into the sitting room, Gilbert felt some of the tension he'd been carrying without really realizing it leave his shoulders. Marcel seemed to relax too, his mood lightening and he sauntered over to one of Gilbert's battered but comfortable settees.

  "Well, now that the formal part is over with." Marcel settled on the settee in front of the fire and stretched his good leg out. "We can do what I've been looking forward to. Come on." He patted the seat next to him, grinning at Gilbert, who hovered by the doorway.

  Gilbert set the glasses on the table in front of them before settling himself down on the settee next to Marcel. He was still not at all convinced this engagement was going to work, but it was nice to sit with Marcel like this. It was comfortable and familiar to drink wine with him and watch the fire. Gilbert felt himself begin to relax with Marcel's warmth beside him.

  "This is nice." He finished the champagne in his glass and set it aside. "I missed spending time with you like this while you were away."

  "So did I." Marcel leaned a little closer to him so he could bump Gilbert's shoulder with his own. "You wouldn't happen to have anything stronger then champagne tucked away somewhere?"

  "I have whatever you want."

  Marcel laughed at that, and gave him a long, heavy-lidded look that made warmth curl unexpectedly in Gilbert's belly. Before he could react, Marcel straightened a little so their shoulders were no longer touching. His gaze seemed to have been distracted by the fire.

  "Brandy then, my good sir, if you don't mind."

  Still feeling a little off balance, Gilbert got up and walked over to the door at the far end of the room, opening it and stepping into one of his studies. There was a liquor cabinet at the end of the study, and he took out two glasses and poured them both a generous helping of brandy.

  He carried the glasses back into the sitting room, handing one to Marcel before sitting on the settee again.

  "So I have a present for you." Marcel gave Gilbert a smile over the top of his brandy glass, and then he set it aside, digging into his jacket and pulling out a velvet bag. "Just a little something, nothing big."

  He handed over the bag and Gilbert took it, working the silk cord until it was undone and tipping the contents onto his palm. Two oval, highly polished stones fell out, both a brilliant orange flecked through with brown.

  "Amber." He held each piece up and then paused.

  "Yes, polished amber," Marcel said, reaching back for his glass of brandy. "With insects from thousands or even millions of years ago trapped inside."

  "Oh," Gilbert breathed, sitting forward and holding each piece to the light. "I've read of this."

  "I know," Marcel said, tone dry but pleased, "you read me the passage and then described at length how much you would love to see it for yourself."

  Holding the piece of the light, Gilbert could now see one of them was a tiny ant, and the other contained some kind of small winged insect. They were beautiful, some of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. He'd wanted to see one of these pieces for so long, and Marcel had remembered and actually found one for him. Gilbert found himself blinking back tears. "They are beautiful." He finally tore his gaze away and looked up at Marcel, hoping he couldn't tell how close Gilbert was to crying. "And amazing. Thank you, thank you so much."

  "I know you have your doubts about this marriage." Marcel rested his glass on one thigh, running a finger around the edge. "But maybe it won't be such a bad thing after all?"

  "Marcel, I never ..." Gilbert swallowed and took a breath, emotion welling back up again. "Never meant it like that."

  "I know." Marcel set aside his glass and then pulled Gilbert into a quick hug. "We will be all right together, I promise."

  Gilbert let himself be held for a few minutes, breathing deeply until he no longer felt so overwhelmed. Calmness began to trickle back, and he settled deeper into the settee and Marcel's arms. A comfortable silence grew between them. Gilbert sipped his brandy and gazed down at the piece of amber in his hand. He could look at this for a long time and never get bored. Marcel had gotten this for him—it made him warm inside just thinking about it, and it reminded him that he too had a gift to give.

  "I have something for you as well." Gilbert's palms started sweating again, most of his calm evaporating. Now with the amber in his hand, he was not at all sure his own gift could even compare. He reached for the box he'd set on the table along with his champagne glass anyway. "It's not anything impressive." He picked the box up, held it tight. "I mean, if you don't like it I won't take it personally ..."

  "Berti, give me the box." Marcel was smiling as he held out his hand, and Gilbert forced himself to pass it over.

  Marcel rested it on his lap, flipped open the lid, and then he paused.

  "Like I said." Gilbert braided his fingers together and forced his hands to stay on his lap. "If you don't like them ... Well, I know you don't wear a lot of jewelry."

  They were earrings, silver bees, each part separately crafted so the legs, wings, and antenna all moved independent of each other, fluttering gently as the earrings swung. There was a silver ring too, in the shape of a rose with a bee resting on it.

  It occurred to Gilbert suddenly that it was a very romantic gift, more so than he had intended, which just doubled his nerves.

  "They are beautiful," Marcel said, voice soft and sincere. "Here." He held it out to Gilbert. "Put them in."

  Gilbert took the silver bee and leaned forward, searching until he found the tiny hole in the lobe of Marcel's ear.

  This close, Marce
l smelled of sandalwood and something herbal. Marcel breathed out warm air against Gilbert's cheek, and Gilbert sat back, reaching for the second one. He slipped the hook through the hole in Marcel's other ear, sending the bee dancing, its tiny silver wings beating at the air.

  Marcel was right; they were beautiful, so well-crafted they looked like real silver bees. Gilbert touched one lightly with the tip of his finger and heard Marcel's breathing catch. He let his hand drop and sat back.

  Turning slowly to face him, Marcel bit his lip for a moment and then smiled. "Thank you, they're beautiful."

  They were close very close, Marcel leaning in a little, lips parted. Gilbert could smell sandalwood again, and his stomach gave a queer little flip. Marcel sat back, and Gilbert found himself strangely disappointed.

  "I …" Gilbert cleared his throat, still feeling breathless. "That day in the garden, when you were afraid of the bee. We were what, sixteen, maybe? I think of that day dearly, you know. It might seem silly, I'm sure it does, but I think that's when I realized you were the best friend I had." He twisted his hands together in his lap and looked up at Marcel to see something like shock on his face.

  "Yes." Marcel's good hand was shaking ever so slightly, and he looked away as if he couldn't quite meet Gilbert's eyes. "I think of that day often as well." He drew in a breath as if to say something else but instead bit his lip and remained silent.

  Gilbert cleared his throat after a moment, not sure what had come between them but needing to break the awkward silence. "So my father said he wanted us to make the announcement at the Christmas ball."

  "Yes, the ball." Marcel reached for his brandy glass. "Do you wish to announce it then? If so, I have no objections."

  "It is as good a time as any." Gilbert took a sip from his own glass.

  "I must confess I've already told Gregory, Sushil, and Lady Yujia," Marcel said. "I went to look over the college grounds and met them there."

  "Oh, and how are the buildings looking?" Gilbert leaned a little closer to Marcel. He hadn't been working to get this new college of science and technology off the ground as closely as he would have liked, but he was still excited about it. He had helped pass the bill that had funded it, and he'd also been funding Gregory's research into combining spell craft with technology for years now with his private wealth. He had some ideas of his own; spell craft could be introduced into the study of insects, but he'd never had the resources to take that research further. Hopefully he would be able to teach some entomology classes once it opened.

  "It looks good," Marcel said. "Coming along nicely. It will be a beautiful, state-of-the-art facility once it's open. There will be a whole wing dedicated to mathematics, you know, rooms especially designed for testing the combinations of spell craft and mathematical theory. I cannot wait to teach there."

  "Which reminds me, we have yet to speak of your studies." Gilbert shifted around until he was more comfortable, leaning fully against Marcel's side, head pillowed on his shoulder.

  Marcel smiled at him with open fondness. "It was amazing. I could talk to you about it for hours, studying at the university and living there. I was also finally, finally able to manifest my mathematical theories in their pure theoretical form through spell craft. Which I would love to show you sometime, when I have all my notes and charts with me. It is so beautiful, you would not believe. Besides, I've now showed up all those people who told me it couldn't be done." Marcel grinned, obviously pleased with himself.

  Gilbert tipped his head back against Marcel's long, lean form and took a swallow of brandy. More nights spent like this, sitting together in front of the fire, talking about research and drink, would not be bad at all. Maybe this marriage would be a good thing.

  He finished off his glass in a few swallows. Outside the window, it had begun to snow, the sky a light grey flecked through with snowflakes. The fire crackled and hissed as a log fell. The alcohol in his stomach was making Gilbert feel warm, calm, and a little sleepy. He'd always been a lightweight when it came to drink, but today he didn't really mind. In fact, he could do with another. Fingers carded through his hair, gentle and soothing, and he leaned into the touch without thinking or really wanting to think.

  "I could use another brandy."

  Beside him, Marcel laughed, the sound rich and deep. "Sorry, I can't get you one. This arm is very pretty but not good for anything. You are going to have to get it yourself."

  With a slight grumble, Gilbert stood, reaching for his own glass. Marcel wordlessly handed over his almost empty one as well. Gilbert made his way into the study, filled them both up again, then came back, settling himself on the settee, propped against Marcel's side. It was Marcel's left side, which meant his wooden arm poked into Gilbert's back a little, but Gilbert didn't really care, especially after he'd had a few more swallows of brandy.

  "You know what?" He gestured with his glass. "I think this marriage won't be that bad. We can talk a lot about science and … and things …"

  "My pretty soon-to-be husband, what will I do with you? You are drunk." Fingers carded through his hair again. Gilbert liked that.

  "Not pretty." He was slurring a little bit—maybe he really was drunk. If Louis or Philippe were here, they'd tease him about it. Not Marcel, though. Marcel never teased. He tried to drag his mind back to the conversation at hand. "Frog. Small. Squat. Mouth too big. Like for catching flies," he said indistinctly, nodding to prove his point.

  "I don't care what other people say." Marcel's voice had a note of steel to it now. "You are pretty and always have been."

  Gilbert laughed because that was really the only thing to be done about a statement like that. He finished off his brandy, hoping he wasn't going to remember this after he slept it off. Ridiculous. He knew he was acting ridiculous but had drunk far too much.

  "Oh Berti, what I am going to do with you?" Marcel said again, and Gilbert leaned his head more comfortably against Marcel's shoulder and closed his eyes.

  Somewhere in his sleepy haze, he heard Marcel ring for a servant.

  *~*~*

  The first party of the season and the Christmas ball were both held at the palace.

  The entirety of the lower section of the palace was decorated in holly and mistletoe, long silver silk, and more Christmas wreaths than should have been allowed. Huge fir trees had been brought in and stood in each of the multiple halls and in ballrooms that would be open for the event. Both the trees and the rooms were decorated with hundreds of candles.

  Once the ball started, they would all be lit, bathing the inside of the halls as well as the snow-blanketed gardens in candlelight. Every year they had the candles, and every year someone lit something on fire. Henri always said she looked forward to seeing what it would be in a given year.

  All the princes and princesses were back. Gilbert had breakfast with his sisters that morning and spent most of his time hiding from his brothers. Louis especially, who was due to become a father any day, had been particularly insufferable about his ability to sire offspring. Gilbert liked to think his engagement would put a stop to some of Louis' needling about how Gilbert was destined to die alone and unloved. Although, knowing Louis, he'd find a way to twist even that somehow.

  Squaring his shoulders, Gilbert left his rooms and headed down to the great hall where guests were already starting to gather.

  Gilbert made his way through the candles and holly bows, watching the lords and ladies of the court mingle together and sip hot spiced wine. There was music playing, light and easy, in the background. A servant handed him a glass as well.

  Scanning the room, Gilbert tried to pick out people he knew. Charlotte was there in full uniform, and he caught sight of Philippe, but no one else. Not surprising, really; it was early yet, and people might be running late.

  Guests laughed and chatted among themselves. There was a poker game going on in one room Gilbert entered. By the time he was almost done with his glass of spiced wine, all of the great halls were packed with people.


  The biggest hall had been set up for dancing with the musicians there playing much livelier tunes. Gilbert tried to make out familiar faces in the crowd—Gregory, the Mukherjee twins, Takahashi, or anyone he knew and liked. He couldn't spot anyone, however.

  Out on the dance floor, all of his siblings were dancing, even Henri with her dark green gown taken out to accommodate the fact that she was big with child. A large crowd of ladies watched Philippe dance from the sidelines, giggling to each other and whispering behind their fans.

  Gilbert discovered his glass was empty and went to find another.

  A servant helpfully handed him another off a tray, and Gilbert leaned against the wall to sip his wine and watch the dancers.

  No one approached him, asked him to dance, spoke to him, or so much as looked in his direction.

  A small group of people passed by him, talking to each other and laughing, all holding steaming glasses of spiced wine. One of the ladies looked over at him, her lips curling into a sneer. She said something to one of her friends, and they both burst out laughing.

  Gilbert felt his cheeks heat and glared straight ahead, trying to ignore them all.

  By the time he was halfway through his second glass of spiced wine, Gilbert had given up looking for people he knew. Off to his left, closer to the doorway, a large group of people burst into loud laughter. As Gilbert watched, one of the people detached themselves from the group and headed across the room towards one of the doorways that led into small sitting rooms.

  He blinked; it was Marcel.

  Marcel's jacket was again velvet instead of silk, unembroidered. His shirt, cravat, breeches, stockings, and jacket were all very slightly different shades of dark green with touches of silver here and there.

  Gilbert started after him. By the time he fought his way through the crowd of people to the small sitting room that he'd seen Marcel disappear into, Marcel wasn't there.