Soiree

[Colette Moreau]

Lady Kymira Taravin

Kymira nervously smoothed her hands on her skirt, but kept her head up. There was still that creepy guard watching, and Ky avoided looking him straight in the eyes until she realized Leo had no problem with it. The guard shifted a little bit when he asked if everything was okay.  His metal rustled, but Leo confidently assured him everything was fine moments before banishing her.  "Kymira, you've taken a headache and will retire to your room for the evening. I'll make sure to send your apologies with our guests."  She balked, crossed her arms and frowned.  Then after a stern look from Leodon, sniffed. "Fine I was just going to my room anyway,” with a quick spin, she took off toward the main house. At least she didn’t have to walk all the way back down here again.

"Nicole Candraed" and Lord Leodon Taravin

The moment Kymira's footsteps faded, Corele let out the whimper she'd been holding. She put her hands to her face, cheeks tingling, grieving all over again. 

Lennox was always her breaking point.  Nobody could rile her anger or her affection quite like him. More than once she wondered how things might have gone had he appeared in the Three Arches those dozens of decades before he was actually born. Frustrated or fascinated, Corele might not have been able to walk away from the three hardest things she'd ever had to do he had been in one of them. 

Grief. It spawned fresh agony that was the emptiness consuming her without saidar. It'd been enough years, she was worried she'd forget what it was like to channel. Despite what she could pretend to experience in Tel'Aran'Rhiod, it wasn't the same. She knew she wasn't truly channeling in the dreamworld. She knew she wasn't Aes Sedai. She thought she’d come to terms with this.

Was she so desperate for closure that she was seeing monsters in the shadows? Ghosts coming back to haunt her?  Fate Sedai had claimed the man who'd kidnapped her, who'd committed all those atrocities, who'd gave himself to the Dark One had been her Lennox, but that man died. The Brown saw him die. Right? Could there have been any other interpretation to the way Fate reported events transpired? She'd never believed that monster was her Golden Hawk. She couldn't. Calm down, she thought, but she couldn’t calm down. Devastated droplets soon glistened her cheeks.

Kymira described the man who'd left this ring was an Asha'man, but Lennox couldn’t channel yet the description was certainly a blademaster's walk. The authority of a man who knew exactly who and what he was. The long, blonde hair. Such a description could only be one of two men, and there was absolutely no reason for Kentrillo to be leaving wedding rings at Corele Sedai's marker. She shook her head dismissively.

If that weren't confusing enough, there were still the allegations put forth by Matias Winther - as if anyone in Caemlyn with half an ear hadn't heard. Could this mystery Asha'man have been Lord Winther's alleged assassin? It all happened about the same time.

Then footsteps shook her thoughts. Surely Kymira wasn’t returned so swiftly, but to her dismay, she realized the outline belonged to her brother. She gasped fresh air to her throat, tightened her shoulders and wiped tears from the rims of her eyes. When she turned to greet him, Corele was hauntingly serene. ”My Lord…”  She lowered into a curtsy until he called her to look him in the eye. 

He must suspect something was going on; he was too clever not to. Her mind quickly cataloged every scenario she could imagine he contemplated. That Nicole was an informant for a rival House. That she was using her friendship with Kymira to gain his attention. That she was keeping tabs on the Taravins for the queen. Any number of plausible situations from the most clandestine all the way to the most obvious: that she was working hard to gain enough credibility that a high Lord like Leodon Taravin might entertain the idea of marrying an obscurity like Nicole. There was no way he would suspect the truth.  It was far too outlandish not after the White Tower held a memorial for the deceased Keeper. Not after the Amyrlin Seat named Adrasteia her successor.  Nor when the Taravins financial accounts ceased depositing Corele's monthly share into a Tar Valon bank. She forced herself to look upon the statue and the shawl cradled in her arms.  Despite it being based off a portrait that hung in the White Tower, Corele was not the marble Aes Sedai drizzled in torchlight; and if Corele was not Aes Sedai, then it would be impossible if Nicole were. Her identity was secure. It had to be.

Yet for all her instinct, she couldn’t deflect the lure when he came near, captured her hand in his, and held the ring up between them. "Wealth and intelligence?" He alluded to his earlier comparison against a man that didn’t exist.  He still thought the ring was hers.  She could breathe a sigh of relief for Kymira then, but of course that meant she would be caught in the child's intrigue in her place. 

Studying her red rimmed eyes, "You're upset,” he said, his thumb rubbing her palm.  His hands were smooth and unworked, a Lord’s hands. She could see the outline of her own House Crest in the signet on his finger.  It was the only twinkle of jewelry on him. He wore a fine velvet coat over a handsome waistcoat beneath, but none of it was obscene or flashy. He was a Lord who knew exactly who he was without having to display it.

“Tell me why. It's okay.”  His reassurance was soothing, that he would take care of her, but did nothing to loosen her tongue. Leodon may be enchanting, but that's exactly why she didn't trust him. Specifically, it’s why she didn't trust herself with him. Thankfully, he broke his resolve before she did. The low light flickered on the planes of his face while he thoughtfully glanced around. What he saw besides their ancestors' memorials was beyond her imagination. Clearly though, he was unfazed by the childish notions that'd fearfully taken his little sister.

The reprieve did not last long.  Since she remained quiet, he came closer, intentions clear. The presence of his cologne swirled her head with confusion again. Lennox always maintained his distance. Her warder held her when she was hurt. He stayed near on those nights she couldn’t sleep. Yet he had been a gentleman without her having to ask him to. It's impossible.. He can't be alive... but the thought sizzled to a distant, cool memory whereas Leodon was right then overwhelming her with warm-blooded charisma. 

"Does he take your hand and...?" Question softly posed, he did just that, deftly capturing her arm. He turned her wrist and placed it gently against his lips. Her skin pebbled, and she found her finger lightly stroking his cheek. A warm look appeared behind her hand.  One that tensed her with worry. She started to withdraw her arm, but he held her wrist secure. Then he took a slow step forward only to smile ruefully when she fell one step back.  Followed by another and another until there was nowhere left to go. Her skirt flattened against the wall. "Does he put you to the wall...?” he asked, leaning his weight upon her.  Shivers clenched her spine. Her skin pebbled and body warmed.  Suddenly the corset was too binding and she struggled to breathe. 

Your brother’s grandchild four times over…  She interrupted sharply, expression unconvincingly stern. 

"My Lord, don't.  Believe me,” she sounded as though she was convincing herself more than him, the plea straining her own immaculate accent she did not have the willpower to suppress, "this is not right.”

"I can give you pearls too, you know."  His own tenor was flawless, the perfect resonance of sounds to cross a man’s lips, a highborn Andoran. She trembled when he brushed the hair from her neck because when he leaned in to whisper temptations in her ear she doubted her resolve to resist them.  She tried, anyway.  Face drawn, she pulled away yet again. 

He briefly looked confused, slighted again with refusal, followed by looking boyishly offended, and her heart sank. He was so young. A man to everyone else, but a child to her relatively ancient eyes. Yet doubt crept in. Nicole ought to melt in his arms, not constantly pull away.  What he said next stopped her in her tracks. “You'll accept my father but refuse me? He must be three times your age."  And the floor dropped from under her.  So that’s what he was thinking. At least his jealousy made a sort of sense now. For all Corele’s mastery in the Great Game, she never dallied with the game of the heart. No wonder she didn’t anticipate this outcome, but his assumption made a sick sort of sense as she put a hand to her stomach.  The ring very well may have come from the High Seat. Lord Leopold had the means for it and the scandalous reputation to justify such a gift to any mistress, let alone someone like her. 

Theirs wasn't so different from any other High Seat, but House Taravin wore their honor proudly. Such was the reason they did not abandon illegitimate children to shame and poverty.  Amid the hurricane of rumors surrounding House Winther, it was said a servant in the House of Taravin, a scullery maid named Nessie Oaktura, circled the halls of court with rumors. She'd saved a man's life and nobody but a high ranking member of the Taravins would recognize her surname as code for a bastard playing on their House crest: the Oak and Owl. Who knew how many bastard children the current High Seat sired? In the back of her mind she always worried that someone might think her to be one such bastard. She had the coloring and the age to be one, and her sudden elevation from country girl to courtly wanderer might be explained by the High Seat pulling a favor with the Queen. How many half-bloods will Leodon inherit responsibility for someday? How he must resent his father. But never in her wildest dreams would she have thought Leodon to assume her to be his father’s mistress. It was this bloody ring.

She took deep breaths, glancing at the statue of herself and weighing her options. Either she continued to let Leodon think she was such a mistress, which could make for some awkward confrontations at court in the future, or tell Leodon the truth, that Kymira stole the ring left at this memorial and she was acting to protect the child from punishment. However, Kymira alluded to having found more than just this ring, and whatever else there was, Corele could envision the child refusing to share it if she were betrayed. 

Think clearly.  She glanced at the ring so perfectly encircling her finger. She realized she'd put the pearl on the same finger as where the serpent ring once rested.  There was no proof beyond a coincidental inscription in the band. Kymira might still be lying about how it came to her possession, though she really did not believe that to be the case. Lennox was dead, and a man does not simply become a channeler overnight. Lythia would have known if her lost warder was a living, breathing servant of the Black Tower. The Green was too intimately connected to the main field of powerful players to not know such a thing. Corele meanwhile had nothing but the shortened mortal life looming ahead of her. A greater sphere of influence as Leodon's consort could aid her cause – those fierce, hawk-like eyes were patient now, giving her time to reach a decision – she steadied herself, probing at that selfish spike to her desire. With her help, Leodon could rediscover the lost mines of Manaetheren, the very place that Lythia imprisoned Arikan for all those months. She nodded at that idea, the harmony of a future springtime breaking the timbre of current winter's prospects. They'd never marry, but Corele could accept that sacrifice if it meant her House, and by extension, Andor, prospered. 

She was breathing deeply, but controlled, despite the nerves. She couldn’t believe what she was about to say, yet on the other hand, she was excited. She’d never even kissed a man in all her life, and when she turned to him, all she saw was confident expectation. She was nervous, but neither could she afford to take things slow. If Nicole was Leopold’s former mistress, she would be experienced. Corele was completely the opposite. However in the world was she going to fake that? "Alright,” the whisper hung on the air, both ominous and exciting to actually say out loud.

She couldn't believe her own choice, stomach twisting upon itself, but the magnetic Leodon Taravin wasn't the first surprising selection of her life. Only this time, she had nothing to lose. He smiled victoriously then took her in his arms, and she shuddered when his lips found hers.