Chapter 27 – On the First Day of Midwinter

Wherein all three women prepare for a Winter Wake gala in their own way.

An hour or so past dawn, an affair that happened somewhere between the hours of eight and nine in the morning, Rose jumped on a tube. She was going to visit the old men with whom she once jammed in Cicada Park. Today wasn’t a Thaumday, but today was the Winter Wake, the first of three holy days, and she figured it was likely the men would have a gathering at the house she had been to before. 

The tube was filled with uniformed men. Their conversations ranged in topics from crass to depressive and in tone from shouting  to quiet murmurs. Rose understood from their remarks that the war to the East had stagnated. Winter was not a good season for war. To prevent major losses, the armies had been pulled back into friendlier territories. Some had made it all the way to Splendor. 

With a box of eclairs, fresh from the bakery, Rose pushed open the swing gate. Activity in the yard confirmed that there was going to be a party here, as garlands were being put up by a group of teenage boys.

Two old men were sitting under the awning of the fenced in porch, smoking cigars and providing commentary to the boys. As soon as she entered,  their attention went to her.

"Rose! Loveliest Rose in the Realm, who graces us with her presence, how have you been!?"

She grinned widely at their greeting. 

"I fare not as well as I had hoped," she replied to their poetic greeting  as she made her way up the stairs. 

"You break our hearts, fairest maiden." 

"Well..." She handed over her box of delicacies.

"Is it Bardic College?" Thomas, the half-orc, asked. He smelled the box before opening it and seemed chuffed at what he found.

"Yes and no," Rose concurred, taking the empty seat that the other man pointed to. "One of my classmates broke my violin." She told them what  had happened. 

Both men gasped in horror, followed by expletives of righteous anger. 

"I am pursuing a way to have it remade, but..." she shrugged. It might not work. She couldn't put all her hopes on this. "And currently, I'm fiddle-less."

This caused another round of angry remarks from the man whose name she didn’t remember, and grunts from Thomas. 

At that moment, the door opened and a woman, related to one or both of the old men, stepped out. "I thought I heard another voice. Haven't I met you before?"

"Yes. I'm Rose? I... was here last Autumn. I'm a Bardic College student?"

"Oh, right! My grandpa keeps talking about you." The woman took the box of pastries from Thomas. "Are you staying for dinner?" 

Rose had to shake her head. This took considerable effort. "My friends and I are going to a gala tonight. I’ve been told to be back home in an hour or two, to get ready."

"Too bad. You could've been our Honoured Stranger." 

"I'm afraid I didn't come with good tidings."

"Is something wrong?" The concern was instant, and it lifted Rose's spirits.

"Nothing life-threatening," she replied.

"It's terrible! A crime against the musical arts!" the old men piped up. 

The younger woman rolled her eyes at the drama, obviously used to their superlative ways. She beheld Rose with a questioning gaze. 

"My instrument broke. Well… was smashed, actually."

"That is terrible! Why don't you come in for just a sec, it's freezing out here." 

Rose accepted the invitation. She remembered the feeling of kinship she experienced the last time she was here. Behind her, the old men grumbled about her leaving them. Feeling cheeky, she blew them a kiss and winked.

Inside, she was pulled into the feminine circle of activities. She was plied with rum spiked hot chocolate, crooked pies that hadn't made the presentation cut, and more food as it was being made and tasted. Since she was there, she picked up a dish towel and helped with cleaning up while the other ladies worked.

When Rose left to go home and get ready for the Gala, a bearded old fellow with thick, wild grey hair had Rose write her well wishes in the guest book, along with her address. Presumably so they could send her a New Year's card. 

With a giddy smile, Rose waved her goodbyes over the fence gate and ambled off to jump a tube.

Bosra beheld herself in the mirror. Valentina had hired maids to help them all get dressed. It had felt very odd to let another do what she was fully capable of doing herself. Touching the tight braids that pulled her hair away from her clan-marks, she had to admit she looked feminine.

Hard-assed, but feminine, and yet classy in her form-hugging indigo dress. The skirt split at her thigh, showing off her long legs. The top was asymmetrical. It left one shoulder bare. The golden tattoo that signified her favour with the King and the Gods was on display for all to see.

"You're done," she reminded her reflection. "Not a hero unless you die. And you ain’t gonna be a hero."

The last ball she attended, had been the one given in honour of her adventuring crew. They had all been lauded as Protectors of the Realm. She enjoyed the extravaganza, but hadn’t felt at home there.

Today, they weren’t going to the King’s Hall. Valentina had picked the party of a lord and lady that lived a little further away from the castle-cathedral. Today, she didn’t look like the caricature of a dolled up blubber-beast.

She looked powerful.

She breathed deeply, looping a silver chain over her head. For a second, she clasped the pendant in her palm; a piece of grey Soultree bark set in silver.

She didn’t wear it often. During her day-to-day activities, it would just get in the way.

Tonight... Tonight she needed the reminder that the future belonged to those who showed up for it. 

Standing in front of the looking glass, Valentina criticised her appearance. The maid had done a passable job at her hair and make-up. The ballgown’s skirt was eye-catching because of its sheer volume. The heart-shaped bodice was beset with tiny beads that caught the light as she moved. A gauzy bolero covered her arms.

It would do.

As it had a hundred times before.

She donned jewellery like she donned armour. A pair of sapphire earrings. A sapphire and diamond collier that covered most of her chest. A bracelet and rings to match.

She looked the pinnacle of perfection.

She looked like the daughter of an Arch-Duke, good for her table manners and her dowry.

 She wished she could splash her reflection in the silvered glass, as one would when stomping in a mud puddle. Tears would foul up her face, yet she wanted to cry. She felt emotion clogging her throat, her eyes stung.

All she could see in the mirror were her faults. 

The feeling of contentedness that had settled over her through living on her own shattered as the perfume flask the maid had accidentally dropped earlier. 

Look at you. Blue really isn’t your colour, is it? Should’ve gone for green and emeralds, like I told you. Valentina could hear her mother speak as though Venlica was standing right next to her.

On the other hand… Emeralds stand for wit and loyalty. Two qualities we both know you don’t possess.

A knock on the door interrupted the mental chewing out. She turned abruptly, straightening her shoulders and smoothing out her face. "Yes?"

Rose opened the door, looking very approachable in her powder blue dress. An antique silver necklace adorned her neck. "The carriage is nearly here, and you said you had something for us?"

Valentina released her pent up breath. "Yes. I do." She turned to the lockbox standing next to her vanity and took out two cachets. She handed one of the jewellery cases to her friend.

"This is my Winter’s Day gift to you."

Rose gingerly took the flat wooden box. She was hesitant to open it. Biting her lip, she lifted the lid and gasped. Inside lay a beautiful matching set of silver and pearls. The design was elegant yet playful. The pendants and links were designed to look like flowers.

"Tina…" she whispered in awe.

Valentina clasped her hands together so tightly her white lace gloves wrinkled. "My father agreed that you should have them."

Valentina was ill-prepared for Rose’s hug. She was squeezed tightly and almost toppled backwards. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around Rose and squeezed back.

"I’ll help you put them on," Valentina murmured to Rose’s shoulder. Rose let her.

Bosra accepted Valentina’s gift with a lot less grace. "Don’t need this." She tried to shove the cachet back into her friend’s hands.

"You don’t need to need gifts," Valentina replied. "And I can give you whatever I want, because it is a gift." And not charity.

"Hmpf," the big woman snorted. The flat wooden box looked tiny in her hands. With a heaving sigh that threatened to burst the seams of her dress, she opened the lid and frowned at its contents. What lay inside was a necklace, made of gold and onyx, and two wide bracelets, made of the same material. The design was simple, timeless, and it would fit her – literally and figuratively. They were accompanied by a single ear-piece that wrapped around the auricle.

"Thanks," she grumbled.

"I knew you’d love it," Valentina smiled.  

They donned their cloaks in the hall and left. Valentina looked at the quiet house as she awaited her turn to enter the horse-drawn carriage. It was dark outside and in, yet it looked like it was just waiting, promising her a soft landing upon return.

~

If you’re interested in a signed paperback copy of Three of Cups, and are willing to pay the extra shipping costs, contact Zanna Bear directly at seashell.bear.creative@gmail.com to set up a private sale. You will receive a slight discount to the Amazon retail price.