Bloodsong Ch. 02

"I thought he might not, given the circumstances," Tessalia was saying. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot when it became clear that she wouldn't be offered more information without insisting. "And?"

"He offered to speak to our father so that he could be my mate instead." To Valeriana's astonishment, her sister acted like she'd heard nothing that shocked her. Perhaps she was so apoplectic that she couldn't even show it? "Don't worry, I told him not to do it, of course."

"I'm pleased to hear — wait. What?" Tessalia's pleasant mask broke like someone had taken a hammer to it. Her eyebrows appeared to be trying to jump off her forehead. It was the most un-Tess-like expression Valeriana had ever seen her wear. "You told him no? Why in the world? You like him. Only the gods know what you find to like there, but you do!"

"I couldn't say yes? It's Jack." Which to her conveyed a whole other meaning, but still. Tessalia was too mercenary about dealing with the opposite sex to wrap her head around the concept of caring if a man jeopardized his future for her. Valeriana suspected that Tessalia viewed men other than their father as wallets and titles attached to useless meaty appendages. "All those times I swore to you that you didn't need to worry about us because he's essentially a fourth sibling? I wasn't lying. If someone needs to get stuck with me, I'd like it better if it's a stranger."

Tessalia opened her mouth. Thought best of it, closed it. Opened it again after re-rethinking, the process repeating another two cycles before she settled on what to say. Valeriana didn't know what took her so long, when it was obvious from the onset what she would say.

"Idiot."

"I know."

"Impeccable, incurable idiot." Tessalia ran a hand through her hair as Valeriana continued to nod in meek agreement, even if she privately did not understand what had caused the reaction. "Are you certain about this?"

"Yes?" A curl had shaken loose from the confection atop Tessalia's head. Valeriana tracked it in a trance of sorts as it dangled back and forth. Normally her sister would have been beside herself trying to fix it, but she appeared entirely oblivious.

"Thank the gods you have a backup, if that's how it is," Tessalia said, at length. She still looked perturbed. Vexed and wronged, even, as though she'd laid out all her plans taking into account events that had done her the injury of not coming to pass. Had she predicted Jack's reaction down to him proposing? Had that been the intended result of pushing her towards him? Her next words suggested so, and Valeriana . . . couldn't even unravel that. "Aramis would have presented the better prospect. His father is past the halfway mark of life. He'll have a title in a few thousand years. Maltos has money enough, but his roots are common as muck. If it weren't for your . . . problem, he wouldn't be considered an option for any of us."

"I know that—"

Tessalia narrowed her eyes as she regarded her, as though Valeriana were something disgruntling and confusing. A pastry covered in chocolate and sugary glaze that she'd bitten into absentmindedly and discovered to be filled with spiced chicken. Not unpleasant, but not what she'd been counting on finding.

"Then again . . ." She trailed off, appearing lost in thought. "Then again, the Maltos family isn't as scandalous — no poisonings, infidelity or halfbreed children. Plus, I heard that Aramis's aunt is wanted by the High Council for multiple accounts of murder—"

"Uh?" It was the first time Valeriana heard of it herself, and Tessalia's sources tended towards reliable. It was also an opportunity to shift the subject away from whether she'd done the right thing, which her sister still appeared to be trying to work out, and she herself couldn't afford to doubt. "Who did Lady Marabeth kill?"

"Quite a few people, if I had to guess, but I meant the other one. The human lover." Oh. She didn't know much about that other aunt aside from her existing. Jack himself had never laid eyes on her as far as she was aware. She nodded while Tessalia marshaled a semblance of normalcy. "Although now that you've brought her up, yes, Lady Marabeth is also a questionable personage, since she trades in humans and there is talk of her training some of them herself. Which, as I hope I need not tell you, is wanton behavior and leaves her lacking both in class and propriety."

Valeriana had no idea of what training human slaves entailed and why it qualified as wanton, but knew better than to ask. Lady Marabeth had always struck her, in their limited interactions, as terrifying, but proper to a fault.

"In conclusion," Tessalia said, giving Valeriana another look, an assessing one, as she adjusted her rogue hair. "You may, incredibly, have made a sensible choice."

That explained why she'd looked so shocked, then.

"So, now?" Valeriana risked.

"Now we go find Maltos, who already arrived and is off somewhere being treated to a dissertation on the properties of mistral ivy. I gave Bells leave to run her mouth, on the off chance that Aramis didn't propose. After enduring her, you'll seem enchanting by comparison."

"Unless I say something stupid."

Tessalia snorted.

"No, that's alright. Men like it when women act a bit dim around them. Makes them feel good about themselves, the daft things."

It took them a minute of wading through bodies across the room to make it to where the twins stood, chatting away in the company of their father and three unfamiliar men.

Valeriana was struck by the realization that she couldn't tell which one was Ralen. The description she had to recognize him by was useless; they all had the same brown hair, short cropped, freshly shaved faces and similar builds and coloring. What if she ended up scrutinizing the wrong brother? Would that be construed as offensive?

Tessalia veered closer, meaning she'd done a shoddy job of not making her restlessness show.

"Middle one."

Valeriana sighed with unmitigated gratitude.

Coaxing herself into breathing normally became a challenge when her father smiled at her. It was something he never did, and it showed. The warmth of that smile was the warmth of thrice reheated leftovers: spent, stale, unpalatable.

"We were wondering where the two of you had disappeared to."

No one who didn't know her father well would detect the distaste underlying his words. Valeriana's mind went blank, trying to think of something to say that would be both plausible and uncontroversial.

Tessalia was quicker, as per usual.

"I had a wardrobe malfunction. Embarrassing, really, and I'll be complaining to Modona about their disappointing work first thing tomorrow. Val was a darling and helped me fix it." A winsome, dazzling smile flew to her sister's lips as easily as the lie as she tossed her hair behind her shoulder, all grace. Three pairs of eyes followed her movements. It slightly irked Valeriana that Ralen looked as caught in Tessalia's spell as his brothers, but she squashed the feeling. Men were like that about her sister. It was not worth being upset about.

"Ah, well. It's not as though we got bored waiting for you. Why, Ansgar and I were just in the middle of a fascinating conversation about the cultivation of paxpernia bells," Belladonna motioned at the brother on the left, who tore his gaze off Tessalia long enough to whip up a nod. "Which he is extremely knowledgeable about and always welcomes the opportunity to discuss with an interested party."

Sometimes Valeriana found it difficult to work out the things her sisters left written between the lines. This time, Belladonna might as well be holding up a sign reading 'so you can wrap that up and take it home and choke on it!' and shoving it in Tessalia's face.

"Fascinating," Tessalia intoned, sounding nothing less than genuine. "I'm sure it will pain these fine gentlemen that I'm about to deprive them of your company. Father, would you mind if I steal the twins? It's too crowded here, and we have much that we need to discuss."

"A wardrobe malfunction?" Their father was stuck on that still, like it didn't agree with his understanding of the world that his perfect daughter might fall victim to something so banal. At length, he recovered. "No, I don't mind in the slightest. Go on and enjoy your evening, darling."

Belladonna's eyes rolled so far back that it was a minor miracle that they didn't drop to the bottom of her skull. Angelica, in contrast, appeared serious and solemn and tried to capture Tessalia's gaze. Having managed it, she jerked her chin in Valeriana's direction, parted lips bending to form a mute question.

Tessalia shook her head, so subtly that the movement would only be apparent to someone expecting it. Angelica's eyes widened. Her countenance became disgruntled. Valeriana decided that her worries were already plentiful without adding the strangeness of her sisters' behavior and elected to ignore them altogether.

Tessalia herded the twins away in a tight cluster, heads joined conspiratorially, leaving her alone to face three strangers whom she needed to impress, plus her father, who she knew she stood no chance of impressing. To say that she'd been in more comfortable situations would be a gross understatement.

She had yet to make a sound. Should she greet them? Introduce herself? Wouldn't those things land peculiarly at this stage? Her father might have forbidden her from speaking unless requested, but it felt rude and awkward to just stand there staring at the others.

"Valeriana. My youngest." Her father gestured as if showing her off. As if she were worth showing off. He was convincing about it, too. She supposed that to divest himself of her, he'd be willing to try anything up to and including pretending he didn't curse the sight of her.

Ralen Maltos smiled politely. For the first time, she had his full attention. It took all that Valeriana had to bear his scrutiny placidly and smilingly. She studied him as he did her, though in a less presuming manner. It wasn't as though her impression of her intended mattered, but she'd still like to form one.

Ralen's face was plain but amiable. His clothes would be more suited for a temple service than a festive setting, gloomy and colorless as they were. Jack, Valeriana thought with a sudden pang, would have approved. His demeanor was businesslike if it was anything, but little else was to be expected.

This was, at heart, a transaction. She needed someone to take her away. He needed someone to take places where a lowborn merchant wouldn't be welcome on his own. Love and all else would come after the bonding.

"Very pleased to meet you." He took her hand. No trace of a Soralian accent, southern or otherwise, in his voice. Had she gotten that detail wrong? She couldn't entertain the thought. Letting her face turn green was unlikely to make him think well of her. "You are even more beautiful up close."

He stared her right in the eye while speaking. Valeriana recalled Jack's mumbled compliment from earlier, delivered without looking.

Slowly, the knot in her throat unwound.

"You are too kind, sir." She tried not to obsess about her tone, lest she be rendered incapable of speech. "I have also been looking forward to meeting you, ever so much."

"Ralen, please. No need for formality." Valeriana nodded, keeping quiet for want of anything else to add. Her father looked as close as he ever did to approving. It could be assumed that her performance was adequate.

"We've come to an agreement on the mate price. Ralen has, however, insisted on getting acquainted with you before we finalize the arrangement." There was a confused resentment there, like it offended him that a man wanting to mate his daughter might wish to do something as asinine as having a few words with her before committing. More so, he glared at her as though he suspected her of having somehow engineered such a hindrance.

"We'll go have a walk in the gardens," Ralen said. "It's impossible to breathe in here. Shall we?"

He offered her an arm. Valeriana accepted it, feeling her father's eyes like swords held to her neck. She could count her heartbeat in four places without expending effort, and it made her head swim.

"I — yes, of course, I'd love to."

She hoped that the confusion of bodies milling about — the Glass Tower was many things, but spacious wasn't one of them — would make it less noticeable that she was still looking Ralen over with no small amount of apprehension, trying to divine as much about him as she could.

Then again . . . would it be bad if he caught her staring? It should be alright, shouldn't it, if he was to be her mate? It might be less appropriate to take her eyes off of him.

Of course, the moment Valeriana came to that conclusion was the same moment her gaze strayed.

"Oh," she breathed. Then floundered when Ralen looked over, expecting her to clarify what had prompted the exclamation. Valeriana's thoughts raced to come up with anything other than 'my best friend is over there doing his level best to earn a permanent eviction'. "Uh, Ange. My sister. I don't know the man she's dancing with. I'm worried she might get in trouble if he's someone Tess — my other sister, the blonde one — would object to her being seen with."

"You women worry so much about these things." Ralen glanced around. Since Valeriana had indeed spotted Angelica moments ago, twirling around the floor with an unknown, he had an easy time locating her. "That's one of the chairmen who came with the Eastern assembly. His name escapes me, but they're here to discuss the extension of the railroad cross."

Although Angelica's choice of dancing partner had been a cover, Valeriana couldn't help but chew her lip thoughtfully: a politician. Well, Tessalia wouldn't have Ange's head for that, even if she weren't busy holding court with her usual gaggle of besotted suitors. Belladonna was nowhere to be seen. Valeriana didn't want to search too hard, fearing that eyes would wander in the direction she tried to avoid if given a hair of leeway.

"The . . . extension?"

"They're planning to open an outpost in Fletembre sometime this century. Once all that business with Cynihe gets sorted and resources are freed up. But, I wouldn't like to burden you with these matters."

No. No, it wouldn't do to have him thinking she found him tedious.

"No, it's — I'm not bored. I just know very little about those places, or railroads, therefore . . . "

Thankfully, Ralen seemed to find her nervousness endearing, or at least not grating.

"That's quite alright. I wouldn't expect you to. Same as if you told me about darning napkins or . . . what are they called, those long things with valves that every lady here seems to know how to play?"

"Ah, I think you mean a fingole?"

"That's the one. Do you play it?"

"Ah." She froze, feeling as if someone had sucked all the air out of her lungs, leaving them flopping at the bottom of her chest. Should she lie? But if he asked for a demonstration of her nonexistent talent, wouldn't that make it worse? No. Honesty was better. Then damage control, if need be. "I do. Just, not, uhm. Not very well, I'm afraid. Is that, I mean, I can practice more if it's—"

He cut her off, laughing.

"You can ease up. I'm not interested in what instruments you play."

"Oh," she said, aware that she wasn't being a stellar conversationalist and dreading the moment when they stepped outside.

With the background resonance of a hundred blood songs, plus actual music played at a high enough volume to dull them, plus the medley of voices trying to make themselves heard above all of that, Ralen wouldn't have made much of the fact that she'd only spoken to him when prompted. Once they were alone, however, she'd need to converse about something other than banalities.

Valeriana had prepared herself for this. It might not make a lick of difference. The ice breakers on the tip of her tongue suddenly seemed cringeworthy. Her knowledge about the topics of interest she'd studied looked to have drained while she wasn't looking.

Her sisters didn't face these hindrances, she was certain. Tessalia didn't even have to speak to get men interested. Angelica made others get so carried away talking about themselves that they failed to notice that she scarcely bothered to get a word in. Belladonna was a bottomless reservoir of gossip and had gardening to default to for audiences who weren't interested in knowing who was doing which preposterous thing with whomst.

She was by far the most incompetent of the lot, despite being the one who tried the hardest.

It didn't feel fair, but so it was with many things.

Valeriana made herself stop from turning as they passed the entrance arch, but still caught a glimpse, faraway and fleeting, of Jack throwing up his hands at a tall figure in a black dress. All she could do was shake her head to herself. If this was how he went about conducting a ceasefire, she dreaded to think how belligerent he'd be in actual battle.

It was cooler outside than it had been at the start of the evening. That, or the ballroom had been sweltering enough to make it seem better by comparison, which wouldn't surprise her. The absence of noise and congealed scents of expensive perfume was also a marked improvement.

The gardens, labyrinthine hedges and scattered palm trees, were not empty, as other groups and pairs had elected to retreat from the overstuffed ballroom. Valeriana didn't mind, but she got the sense that her companion was less than pleased.

"You're quiet," Ralen observed, after they'd walked in silence for a minute. "Your song. Even here I can barely hear it unless I stand next to you."

"I . . . yes." She had hoped that it would take him a while to point it out, but resigned herself to the inevitable questions. She was not the only person with a song that verged on quiet. There were surveys taken among Tsikalayans on the Bound Worlds and in Barashi itself that confirmed that she was not an anomaly but a one-in-every-thirty-cases-or-so. However, it prompted embarrassing questions from those aware of her physical defect, which Ralen surely was. "It's always been that way."

"Are you certain that you are full Tsikalayan?"

"Yes." She felt hurt, a little, but hoped it didn't show. This was a man who proposed to mate her. It was a valid concern, ensuring whether her heritage was beyond reproach. The children they might have would suffer if something turned up muddy on that front. "I am. You can confirm with my father, though I'm sure you'll have discussed it already."

"We've broached the subject."

Valeriana nodded, more stiffly than her father would have liked, and tried to distract herself by listening to Ralen's song.

She only picked up nebulous recognition, the sense of we-are-of-one-kind that echoed from any Tsikalayan with whom she wasn't well acquainted. That, too, was expected. One true mates, halves of a predestined whole, meeting because the other's song called to them louder than any they'd heard before, existed only as a plot device for plays and stories.

"This way," Ralen said. The Glass Tower had been built atop a cliff. Not an exceedingly tall cliff, but the sharpness of the drop made up for the unimpressive height. The gardens ended at a low wall, permeated with gaps that allowed access to stone steps. Those ran along the rock face all the way to a leisure port and the beach that neighbored it. "Down there should be private enough."

"You . . . want to go to the beach?" Valeriana wished her voice hadn't wavered. The railings were firm, the steps lit by bulbs of orange crystal, but there were no vessels moored and the port was clean of life. If they went down they'd be truly alone, a long way away from the ball and everyone else.