Thorns as Sharp as Tongues

As impressed as I was by Calix’s skill, it was Joram’s arm I took with candid comfort, and little reluctance. My want to explore Yarrow Hart, fell away to Joram’s familiarity, I felt our time turning into a fleeting creature within the rose tangled walls.

The relished ease was dashed as the newly explored room assaulted my senses with countless echoes of my own image. A vaulted enclave of mirrored walls refracted infinite cascades of golden roses upon a backdrop of creamy satin. A wave of vertigo threatened as the floor expanded in an endless ocean of rich oak. In all directions a barely visible seam separated the myriad dimensions from reality. My gaze traced roses from floor to ceiling, to ascend to a massive crystal chandelier drooped heavy on a series of golden chains. It’s delicate crystal roses dangled like frozen raindrops.  

Joram’s breath hiss against my ear. “Has it driven you mad yet?” 

My attention whirled as Joram spirited around into the oppositional sweep of a fencer’s guard. As he claimed his position his off hand extended. The fencing mask arched from his grasp to descend toward me. Of their own volition my arms flicked to embrace the helm.

“Elegant catch. You are quicker than Calix to be sure. Maybe you are prepared to duel without a lesson. ” Joram drew a guarded stance.

“That may be, but you can see I am not dressed for such activity. And I do not think Camellia will approve.”

In retort, Joram jerked his head and blade in the direction of Calix and Camellia. 

“Who is maid and who the mistress, dear cousin Magareen?” Calix purred. “I would like to see if our long estranged kin is indeed my better. Or better still, yours, Joram.”

“In either case, the good maid Camellia is not in a disapproving mood.” Joram’s nod indicated as much as Camellia continued to lean languid in Calix’s arms where both lounged upon a velvet bench. 

As Calix’s fingers danced the curve of Camellia’s collar, his other hand flicked his epee across his foot to pop the blade in my direction. The sword clattered at my feet as the mask remained yet cradled in my arms.

Calix’s smile felt as if it crossed the room to caress my cheek. “You will apprehend in little time that in the Hart, the only rules are to break the rules, and so much without being caught.”  

His words skittered like so many beetles to curry at my ear.

“The longer you stay the more rules there will be to break.” Joram lowered his mask, poised to strike. “Endeavor to break them well. En garde.” 

At this display I launched the mask, impaling it with ease upon the tip of the epee. In a sweep of my foot I straightened my skirts and in so doing found the cup of the weapon. With the same clip of toe as Calix performed I curtsied with sword in hand. The stance I took shifted at once to add propulsion and let fly the tip of the blade to once more impale the mask.  

Joram leveled his weapon, now heavy with helm and blade. “Good gods, dear mistress, it may be that archery would be a game more suited to your skills. I am indeed the wrong cousin for that lesson.” 

I had scarce formed the question of which cousin I should inquire for such a skill when Calix shattered the room with a sharp clap of echoes.

 “By all the gods old and new, grace such as this should not be set to waste on the arts of war.” Calix cooed. “Do not make our lovely cousin fight, she is after all here to shake traits of crass Boughwins.”

Calix’s words toyed and teased my spirit as his fingers did the same along the length of Camellia’s arms.

Leaving Joram to the task of dissembling the blades and helm, I crossed to the bench. The heels of my footfalls rapped harsh upon the glassy wood.

“Who are you to christen crass? Are Hadowin gentlemen not taught to speak with honor in regard to a lady’s family.” My assaulting approach gave me chance to loom as Sir Calix had upon the advent of our meeting. 

Though my fervor moved him not enough to note, a flash of concern colored the cheeks of his elsewise relaxed features.

Joram cast blades and mask upon another bench and made to come to aid, though Calix’s or mine I could not ascertain until he spoke. 

“Calix, I agree. Jest is jest, but guard the sharpness of your tongue, and keep your words that they do not go too far.” 

A secret patter marked a measured fear in Joram’s steps, though I was unable to catch it’s features in his approaching reflection.

Calix’s eyes pranced upon my unclenching fists as he slipped from behind Camellia. 

The maid’s trance abated in the breath of Calix’s movements yet as thoughts had only just exclaimed Camellia’s freedom in the dilation of her eyes, Calix’s hand claimed her waist and mind once more. 

“In place of the sword, I propose a more civil use of our ballroom floor.” A dream-like film returned to the maid’s eyes as Calix swept her in a fluid path across the floor. “Are you familiar with the waltz, cousin?” Calix released Camellia as he whirled within Joram’s space, forcing him to catch the maid or let her fall. “And dear Master Joram, where has your humor gone?” 

“Calix.” Joram’s tone was as weary as it was warning. 

He lowered Camellia upon a nearby bench.  

I was in Calix’s arms in the catch of a breath. The heat of his palm a searing brand upon the small of my back as his torso pressed to mine. 

Once free of Calix, Camellia’s spirit returned. 

“My apologies, Master Joram.” Her voice shook a flustered lilt upon the rush of breeze past my ears. “My will remains not yet immune to Sir Calix’s mesmerismus.” 

On a turn I caught the tempestuous look in Joram’s eyes. “The fault is not yours, dear Camellia. Our Sir Calix is in need of a lesson in deportment. And he shall have it.”

In a sense of rising fever of energies and the subtle roar of male bluster, I snapped my attention to Joram. It took a strength of will akin to lifting a great boulder. 

“Joram, it is quite alright.” 

I was shocked at the abruptness of Joram’s aquiessence though grateful that my words were enough to halt any advance on his part. 

Following the arc of the next sweep my eyes locked with Calix’s. “I did exercise a step or two in the years I was abandoned by the Hadowen.”

The smile that gleamed Calix’s lips could only be described as sinister. “Show me.”  

Our pace quickened. 

The silence of the room broke against the staccato of heels assaulting the polished floor. My gaze fought to hold with Calix’s as walls dizzied to a blur of roses. Each moment not drawn into the fire of Calix’s pupils stoked a sense of pride. Joram and Camellia fell away as our steps intensified, drowning all in a blizzard of roses and rhythm. The blooms assailed my senses. 

All without the outward intonation of music, a symphony of breath and blood, step and heart, engulfed my senses with abandon. The flint of Calix’s eyes ignited a blue fire that threatened consumption of my mind. The crescendo of pounding heartbeats pulsed a power to my spirit as it kept the flurry of roses at bay. 

Calix’s voice sliced the music of blood and breath. “What fire.” 

“What nonsense!” A woman’s voice shattered the storm of roses. 

The abruptness of our halt fell like an axe. The breath of stillness, an execution. 

Calix’s grip evaporated, spun away as we hovered shoulder to shoulder rather than face to face. I was chilled by perspiration as the room froze the dampness of sweat that lingered in the seams of my garments as well as where my cousin’s hand had been a moment before. 

“Sir Calix.” Madame Elestren barred the ballroom door with a figure more imposing than the gaping doors.

“Madame Elestren.” Calix was at Elestren’s side, her hand in his, in less time than it took for breath to find my lungs.

As the elder woman raised a hand to allow him homage, instead a resounding slap echoed the walls of the ballroom. I contained a slip of a smile behind a gasp and clasp of hands to my mouth. Calix accepted the insult with an elaborate bow even as he backed from Madame Elestren’s flinty glare. 

Shifting her ire from Calix, the Madame released a short, “Camellia.” by way of dry command.

The maid popped to a fullness of attention I had not seen since she released from Calix’s trance.

A second breath had Joram’s name on Madame Elesten’s tongue. 

He too took to his feet with militant observance.

“Mistress Magareen.” 

Though Elestren’s eyes bore into mine, a deep instinct retained my posture.

 “You are new to Yarrow Hart, but I shall not miss this opportunity to impose upon you that this is not the behavior expected through the extent of your stay.” 

“Of course. Madame Elestren.” Gaze averted, the smile refused to fully purge from my lips.  

“You are not as pure a Hadowen as those who have been under guide and tutelage for many a passing season. Thus, I expected behavior in need of attention. Consider this reprimand a reminder rather than punishment. We are a different breed, and as such behave by different laws.” She swept her venom again to Sir Calix. “Exhibition of charms upon one another is expressly forbidden unless both parties are of equal consent, and aptitude.”  

A seed of malice turned in my heart. Madame Elestren’s words both stung and confounded. I remained silent under the stab at my lineage as the question of what charms and skills the madame referred to. 

“Master Joram. Sir Calix.” Elestren’s shift to the gentlemen robbed me of chance to further speak. “You both shall be spending time with the Master beginning this evening.”

“He has returned?” The power of Joram’s interest stood evident in the widening of his pale eyes.

The mood in Elestren’s stare grew all the more turbulent. “Last night. Just after eleventh bell.”

“Such a blessing for us all.” The lack of respect in Calix’s tone drew a look of shock from all save myself. “And, will he grace us with his presence at dinner. Or is he only taking guests through that foolish screen in his apartments.” 

A pang of concern flashed Elestren’s gaze. “Your words will carry respect when speaking of the Master. I need not remind you, Sir Calix. While expectations of your skills have surpassed those not held in a generation, you remain capable of wearing thin your welcome within the Hart.”

Sir Calix’s grin was not without conciliation. With a flourished bowed, and wolfish smile snapped in my direction, Sir Calix requested his leave. 

“Away with both of you.” Elestren relinquished with a wave.

The steady clack of Joram’s heels passed Elestren’s shoulder where my cousin volleyed an expression that carried the question of my sanity, apology, and a hint of something more. 

His words conveyed to Elestren’s ear as his eyes conversed with mine. “The equality of the exchange did not lean as you assume.”

Elestren held her position as the two men disappeared through the doorway. 

It was then her reprimanding gaze fell fully upon Camellia. 

“You were under instruction to escort Mistress Magareen on a tour to close at my apartments that I would orient her to the tenets of Yarrow Hart. I do not believe that meant to dawdle in the ballroom entertaining the whims of Sir Calix and Master Joram.”

Camellia bowed, her expression betraying the verge of tears. “Forgive me Madame, I did attempt to protest.”

Elestren seemed to almost soften. “Sir Calix is known for his charms. I should not expect a creature such as yourself capable of scorning his advances. Still, you are laden with important duties. Unless you wish demotion to your previous station, I suggest you adapt emotion and wit sharper than those you encounter.”

“Yes, madame. Forgive me, madame.” Camellia punctuated her admonishment with a flustered bob.

“You are dismissed. Attend the necessary duties to prepare Mistress Magareen for the evening’s gatherings. I will charge her with the tools for her tour in what remains of the afternoon.” Madame Elestren adjusted the line of her jacket with a curt tug at it’s hem. “She may be well enough on her own, armed as she now is with her exchange with Sir Calix.

Camellia scurried away without argument or glance in my direction. Her heels clicked staccato across the polished floor to fade down the hall.

“Mistress Magareen.” Elestren pivoted to sweep from the room. “Come with me.” 

I did as bid, though turned in final observance of the frozen shower of crystal roses, I hoped for many more visits to the mirrored ballroom. 

Contrary to Joram’s concerns, I felt here I could control any madness Yarrow Hart might dare offer.

Elestren paused to whirl a loop of keys from her hip and spear the lock. So practiced was the movement I scarce would have noticed if not for the slam of the catch within the oak encasement.