Fires of Shame and Deceit

Despite the fire flickering in the gilded hearth, my hands went clammy and cold. I ran them over the soft ruffles of the petticoat over my lap, self-soothing as minutes went by. I stood and paced near the tea table, wishing the kettle contained actual tea and not just hot water.

Sharp knocks on the door made me jump. “Yes?” I said in a tight voice.

The door burst open and Théo entered, all six-foot-two of him, dressed in dark blue. His eyebrows raised as he flashed me a smile. “So glad to see you healthy again.” He took two strides to me and reached out his hand. “Let me escort you to the dining room.”

My self-will crushed like an ant under a boot. Obediently, I wrapped my fingers around his sleeve. “Will you ever introduce me to Louise? I’ve never properly met her,” I blurted out.

“I will, but today is not the day. She’s still bedridden… third severe sickness this year.”

“Who’s taking care of your little son?”

“His nursemaid. He’s in excellent hands.” I let him steer me past two portraits of nobles, and into a larger dining room where I caught the heavenly aroma of food. Onions, bread, perhaps egg omelets, and cheese. The brunch was encased in silver platters upon a deep-red tablecloth. The window’s drawn curtains blocked all daylight, allowing the ambiance of soft candles and an ember-red fireplace made of flagstone.

Comfort and warmth surrounded me. If only I could be alone in a room like this, with a book or a diary and quill, along with the table of sumptuous food and drink. That would’ve been my perfect haven.

But I wasn’t alone; Théo was here. And he had plans for me. Plans and duties that I was currently shrouding inside a veil of my own naïve, scared nature. I told myself I wouldn’t dare speak of them out loud, for fear of pulling back that veil.

“I hope you’re hungry.” He pulled out a high-backed chair for me.

“I am!” I reached forward and grabbed the handle of a platter. Soft, folded omelets, with cheese, tomatoes, and bits of onion. “Oh, how wonderful!” My voice went high-pitched and giddy as I grabbed the fork in front of me. I speared the largest omelet, flopping it on my plate, eschewing manners.

I settled on a plan. Annoy Théo. Make him see me as an awkward girl of coarse upbringing.

“They are wonderful, indeed!” He grinned, wielding a spoon and throwing an omelet to his own plate, clumsily, so that it spilled half-on and half-off. He then upended a bowl full of thick sausages, dumping five or six on the plate. Spearing a sausage on his fork, he stretched his arm across to me, waving it at my face. “Here—take a bite. They’re very spicy; I must warn you.”

“Théo.” Demurely, I lowered my gaze, pretending to ignore the sausage. I concentrated on cutting the omelet into small bites.

He chuckled. “You’re no proper noblewoman. Do you wish you were?” He set the sausage back down. Thank goodness he didn’t command me to let him fork-feed me.

“No.” I reached for the teapot and grasped it before I could, pouring us two cups.

“You didn’t want to talk about your place of origin when I first met you.” He held a sausage on a fork with one hand, his tea in the other. “I want to hear about the village you never told me the name of.” He leaned back and started eating and drinking, waiting for me to speak.

I took one sip of my tea, swallowing. “My village was… they renamed it something in German when the Prussians took over. It used to be called… Fontaine.” I took bites of the omelet while it was still warm. The cheese inside was a rich brie, cooked perfectly with the onions.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of a town named Fontaine. But I haven’t visited all the towns in the east border country.”

“They have… nice farms.” I swallowed some eggs. “Plenty of chickens.”

“What else do you like to do for enjoyment?

I looked from my plate to his intense eyes. “I love reading.”

“What is your favorite book?”

The first title that came to me was High-Level Mind Magic through the Ages: Best Examples of Coercion, Memory Curses, and Telepathy, by J.C. Merriman. It had been Cousin Armand’s book.

“Memory was the title,” I said. “I had it as a child.”

“I’ve never heard of it. My favorites in my library are the collections of Greek mythology.”

“What are they about?”

I’d landed on the right question, because Théo spent the rest of the meal telling me of stories from long ago in the land of Greece. It reminded me of my Society’s stories of our Great Mages of Old, with their massive powers and how they used them for trickery, revenge, and war. The stories clearly sounded like Mage sorcery and power. My kind of power.

I finished the last drop of my tea and nibbled on a sausage, keeping my expression calm. “That was an interesting story. Bloody, but interesting.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. You can read my books all you wish.” Théo dropped his napkin on the plate. “I must spend the afternoon tending to my wife and checking in with Christopher, so please, just rest and relax in this suite. No cleaning with the maids.”

“Oh. What will I do from now on?”

He grinned. Great Mages, why must he be so handsome? “Become a gentle lady of the court and my part-time companion, of course,” he said. “Madame Emmeline will come soon to help you change into a lounging dress. Unless you’d like to keep wearing what you have on. It’s beautiful.”

I stood to my feet, fumbling with my skirts as my blood simmered. The coral-peach dress felt light and flowy, and the petticoat closest to my skin was a soft, cool fabric.

“I’ll be back this evening.” He drew closer to me and gazed down at my face, his eyes dancing with mirth. He lowered his lips to my cheek and kissed it.

My heart soared in a cloud of bliss. Théo’s directing of my day and schedule was a velvet-gloved hand of tyranny, but why did tyranny feel so exquisite?

He took my right hand in both of his, wrapping it in warmth. “Please, be here at eight o’clock. I’d much enjoy your company again.” Turning abruptly, he left the room before I could bid him adieu. He'd given no mention of his ‘command’ of yesterday. It gave me hope that he'd changed his mind.

I knew I was playing with fire. If I were forced to become his mistress, to bear his second child, my secret of sorcery risked unveiling.  A chill seeped through me as the hearth flickered.