Chapter 31 - The Worst of them All

Wherein Valentina faces her nemesis.

Three subsequent booms reverberated through the hall of the Redemption Era house, waking the inhabitants after too little sleep.

Valentina woke up with a start. The second and third bang elevated her heart rate to extremes. She fell back into the pillows, sleep dragging her back under, until she realised that there was someone at the door. They had used the brass knocker. She would have to open the door herself.

Thundering footsteps on the stairs announced Bosra’s descent, meaning Valentina wasn’t the only one who had woken.

"Who're you?" Tired and cranky, Bosra apparently wasn’t capable of quiet discourse.

Being the one who was more adept at conversations, at any hour of the day, well-rested or not, Valentina decided to intercede. Donning a comfortable housecoat over her lace shift, she went out onto the interior balcony and instantly regretted that decision.

If she had been a fainting kind of girl, she would have. 

As it was, she hurried back into her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her, even going so far as to lock it.

She dressed in a scramble.

What was her mother doing here? There had been no note to announce her arrival. No missed summons.   

Mere minutes later, Valentina gave herself a once over in the standing mirror to make sure her skirt was of adequate length, that her stockings matched, and that her bodice had been laced properly. She tucked a few escaping strands of hair back into hastily woven braids, and avoided looking at her own face. 

A resounding knock startled her into action.

"I'll be right there!" Valentina chirped with false cheer. At random, she picked a perfume bottle from her dressing table and dabbed some of the scented oil on her neck and on her wrists.

The doorknob turned. "Your ma’s waiting for you," Bosra spoke through the wood. "I’m making tea." Once again, thundering footsteps descended. 

Suddenly, tears were threatening. 

She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to face the witch. 

"Don’t cry," she whined to herself. "Don’t cry. She’ll know you did, and she’ll gobble you up."

She bit her lip. A few controlled breaths later, she squared her shoulders and smoothed down her skirt.

"You can do this, Tina. She isn't your mother. Not really. She's the wicked witch that replaced her. All you have to do is go down, act polite, and kick her out as soon as possible."

She slid the deadbolt away, opened the door and looked down at the checkerboard floor of the hallway. It was still pristine, of course. Her mother would never bring dirt into a home. 

She was the dirt.

Sounds of the stove being fired up for the day, of porcelain clinking together, drew Valentina into the kitchen for a second of bolstering warmth.  

Bosra looked up, the bruise on her jaw prominent. "Tea," she declared, putting the big kettle down on the wrought-iron stove. 

"Yes. Please don’t serve us. I’ll collect the tray when the tea is steeped."

"Rather you took out the trash." Bosra kept her hand on the kettle’s handle.

Valentina bit her lip, looking down at her slippered feet.

"You can do this, chicken-hawk. You got claws under there, somewhere." Bosra gestured to her classical attire. 

Tina did not believe her. She snorted in an unladylike fashion.

"Seen 'm last night. Now git. I'm making tea."

Lifting her chin, Valentina exited the kitchen to cross to the salon. The same salon they had such a good time in with Rose's guest Marisha.

The coldness and hatred radiating from the presence in her favourite room reached her before she could make it through the doorway. Nausea settled into her stomach. She suppressed the urge to retch.  

Venlica was perfect in every way. Insanely beautiful, with long blonde tresses the colour of warm honey, emerald green eyes that sparkled like gems in the glow of the thaumic lights. A half-elf pur sang. Her slender frame and posture were the result of a rigorous daily regime. 

If one didn't know any better, they would say she was Fae-touched. 

"Valentina. Sit." Even her voice was enchantingly melodious.

For the first time in her life, Valentina disobeyed. She stood behind the sofa and grabbed the backrest. The polished wood curls pressed painfully into her palms.

"Good morn, mother. What brings you here this day?" Valentina knew throwing a screeching hissy-fit would not strengthen her position.

"Sit and we can discuss this properly."

Tina breathed and locked her knees. The urge to comply went bone deep. Avoid and deflect, she thought. "You are up early, considering it is Midwinter today."

As the Arch-Duchess, Venlica would have been at court until midnight last night, and would have attended a gala afterward, staying until dawn, as was custom. How the witch could sit here and not keel over from fatigue must be down to a magic potion.

"I heard you were at Baron Brisindi’s gala last night." Venlica picked up the subject of parties, forgetting she wanted Valentina to obey her commands. 

"We were." There was no use denying it. 

"I heard you brought your servants."

"Friends." Cold sweat made her hands slip on the backrest.  

"I heard you took them along to a gala. A gala, Valentina! You might as well have brought ratkin or greenskins!"

Tina gritted her teeth, refusing to be baited. "They were personally invited, by her Loftiness the Baroness of Brisindi."

"Invited or not, you should have known better." 

There was the remark that wounded her as sure as an arrow to the chest would have. 

"I have let you move away from home, because your father saw no harm in it. Well I do. If this is the result, then I most certainly do." Venlica's icy gaze bore into her.

Valentina looked down. Her white knuckles contrasted with the dark wood.

"You will move back home at your earliest convenience and forget this foolishness." Venlica’s gesture indicated the entire house. "You will accept the marriage I am brokering for you. The elvish emissary shall have need of your womb and your true breeding. He intends to settle for a beneficial alliance with our Sovereign King. And you shall be the device through which an Effyne gets to sit on the throne, one generation hence."

Valentina blanched, only keeping upright because of her grip on the sofa.

In the kitchen, the kettle whistled.  

"Tea is ready. I'll..." 

She fled. 

Rose sat at the kitchen table, bleary-eyed and yawning yet again. She perked up when Tina entered. The young woman looked far better than she had a right to after a measly three hours of sleep.

Valentina leaned against the kitchen door, whispering: "My mother is marrying me off to an elvish Lord."

"What?" Rose’s jaw dropped. She knuckled her ears, trying to  clear the cobwebs. 

Valentina repeated herself, sliding down the door until her bum hit the tiles.

"Can she do that?" Rose asked, shocked. 

Pressing her face to her knees, Valentina nodded. She covered the back of her head with her hands. "She can if my father has signed off on the marriage contract."

Rose looked at Bosra, who glowered murderously at the porcelain on the table, then back at Valentina. "Then you have to go talk to your father."

"We're coming with," Bosra rumbled. 

"As much as I appreciate the gesture-"

"Ain't no question, chicken-hawk. We're coming with." Bosra poured hot water into their prettiest porcelain pot. In her hands, the teapot looked like a child’s toy. When her hands were free, she pulled Valentina up by the arm. "Serve this. Eggs next. Breakfast."

"Okay." Valentina stood frozen, staring at the tea tray. 

"Go." 

Sensing Valentina’s dread, Rose got up and took the tray. "Come, I'll walk with you."

Valentina's gaze shifted suddenly. She blinked owlishly at Rose. "No. No, I'm doing it. Just..."

"Go, chicken-hawk."

Venlica was in the process of putting her gloves back on, when Valentina entered the room.

"You're leaving already?" she asked, wanting to make sure the woman was actually going. 

"I refuse to stay one moment longer." Venlica stood, bonnet held in one hand.  

"You will be at dinner tomorrow night. I shall send a carriage and footman to fetch you. Look forward to receiving a maid earlier, so you are presentable upon arrival. I wish I could say it has been a delight to see you in your own home, but if this is what you make of yourself... I dread to think what your husband will have to say about it."

"I'm not married yet," Valentina ventured, porcelain shaking on the tray.

"Not yet." Venlica spoke as if she was absolutely certain. As certain as the sun would set and the moon would rise. "Until tomorrow, sweet child of mine." The older woman kissed her daughter’s cheek with a whisper of lips on skin. Valentina could smell the mint undertones of her mother’s perfume and shivered.

"Until tomorrow, mother."

The front door had closed before she was done speaking.

Very carefully, Valentina set the tea tray down on the salon table, before sinking down. Missing the edge of the fauteuil, she planted herself on the exotic carpet.  

Married. 

Rationally, she had always known that would happen. She sometimes dreamed of the occasion; of the dress and the flowers and the faceless handsome man that would be the bridegroom. In those daydreams, her groom had always resembled her father, both in physical and moral sense.

Her father… She would have to go see him. He could stop this. As long as he hadn’t signed a betrothal contract, he could stop this.

Rose entered the salon, touching her shoulder, saying something, and then leaving. Uncounted blinks later, Bosra put a plate of scrambled eggs on toast in front of her.

"Eat."

Valentina looked up. "I will be mother to a queen." That was what her mother had alluded to, somewhere in her rant.

"Eat first." Bosra pointed at the plate.

Breathing in deeply, straining her too tightly laced bodice, Valentina came back to herself. She wiggled her fingers. 

Bosra shook her head. "Chicken-hawk…"

"Yes. Food." Valentina pulled the plate toward herself. One bite was enough to forget her manners and scarf down the rest.

"Seen greenskins eat slower than that," Bosra remarked dryly. The highlander shoved a cup of tea in her friend’s direction.

"No time for tea. We must speak to my father." Valentina rose and brushed down her skirt. She faked a cheerful smile. "Chop chop." 

~

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