03-22-2024, 09:00 PM
Brandon registered a brief moment of surprise when he looked at her. For a second Nesrin felt gratified, but it was quickly replaced with scepticism over its meaning. The uncertain feeling in her chest calcified – truth was immaterial, as was his recollection of the past, or how he might frame the encounter. Anyone would be mystified by the uncanny spectre of a living dream, and she could not be sure she even had the details right – or that it was something he would remember after more than twenty years. The moment slipped away and Nesrin did nothing to stop it. Yet as he thanked her and turned back to the conversation, she caught the warm and lingering curiosity of the Indian woman’s gaze. There had been nothing significant to witness in the exchange, yet as Nesrin watched she leaned close to Scion Marveet and whispered something in his ear. It had all the casual flourish of lovers’ intimacy, and perhaps that’s all it was, but instinct tapped a cold warning on the inside of Nesrin’s skull.
She didn’t favour a scene. She valued the freedom of anonymity too much to risk it no matter what the Asquiths truly intended. But a secret only had worth if you controlled it, and Nesrin wasn’t wasteful with the currency. Her heart beat hard with the possible implication.
Konstantin dinged his glass then, and as hush and the attention of the ballroom descended upon their little gathering, he made a show of excusing himself from the Ascendancy’s company before heading towards and climbing halfway up the grand staircase. He was a languid and comfortable orator, soft-spoken in the manner of a man who had never needed to raise his voice to be heard. As he welcomed his guests – taking the time to publicly thank Nikolai Brandon for celebrating alongside them tonight – and then began his doting speech for the woman he had spent forty years of his life with, Nesrin considered her options.
Haste wasn’t what she had planned, haste was never what she planned, but this was as close to privacy as opportunity would ever likely afford her. Just being here had taken precision, and she couldn’t guarantee another chance like it should the dreams prove a fruitless suggestion. Nor did she intend to be beholden to the Asquith’s machinations. Konstantin Vasiliev’s speech was probably the only time all night people wouldn’t be clamouring for the Ascendancy’s attention, for such was the rarity of unfettered access to the man who ruled half the world. Nesrin watched him a moment longer before she shifted to stand closer at his shoulder. “She was my mother,” she said. Her voice was pitched for him alone, accent soft with a cadence far outside the Custody. When he looked, he would find her looking back. She wanted to see the truth of his reaction. “She never told me who you were. She never told me if you even knew.”
She didn’t favour a scene. She valued the freedom of anonymity too much to risk it no matter what the Asquiths truly intended. But a secret only had worth if you controlled it, and Nesrin wasn’t wasteful with the currency. Her heart beat hard with the possible implication.
Konstantin dinged his glass then, and as hush and the attention of the ballroom descended upon their little gathering, he made a show of excusing himself from the Ascendancy’s company before heading towards and climbing halfway up the grand staircase. He was a languid and comfortable orator, soft-spoken in the manner of a man who had never needed to raise his voice to be heard. As he welcomed his guests – taking the time to publicly thank Nikolai Brandon for celebrating alongside them tonight – and then began his doting speech for the woman he had spent forty years of his life with, Nesrin considered her options.
Haste wasn’t what she had planned, haste was never what she planned, but this was as close to privacy as opportunity would ever likely afford her. Just being here had taken precision, and she couldn’t guarantee another chance like it should the dreams prove a fruitless suggestion. Nor did she intend to be beholden to the Asquith’s machinations. Konstantin Vasiliev’s speech was probably the only time all night people wouldn’t be clamouring for the Ascendancy’s attention, for such was the rarity of unfettered access to the man who ruled half the world. Nesrin watched him a moment longer before she shifted to stand closer at his shoulder. “She was my mother,” she said. Her voice was pitched for him alone, accent soft with a cadence far outside the Custody. When he looked, he would find her looking back. She wanted to see the truth of his reaction. “She never told me who you were. She never told me if you even knew.”