“Also,” Thessaly said, “I’d rather not take them, but I brought potions for that, for both of us.” She tried to keep the reason out of her voice, but Vitus noticed it. Why wouldn’t he? It was rather obvious.
“You haven’t been sleeping well? Again, still?” Vitus hesitated. “I could make a better talisman for you, if you like, but is it the sort of thing where you ought to talk to a Healer?”
Thessaly rubbed her face. “I did on Tuesday. It’s— some of it is that I just feel all on edge. I want to find what Aunt Metaia was working on, and I can’t for the life of me figure out where she’d have hid anything. And if I’m not looking for it, I keep coming back to thinking about who could have wanted to hurt her that much.”
“And?” Vitus squeezed her hand. “There’s a bit more than that?”
“And.” Thessaly looked out at the heart of the bonfire, watching the flicker of the blue of the hottest flames shift to the reds and oranges and yellows. “I keep having dreams about Childeric. Nightmares. The other ones aren’t as much? About being asleep, and him opening the door, and coming in, and knowing what he’s going to demand. It’s ridiculous, of course, because he never actually did anything like that.”
“Did he threaten it?” She hadn’t told him, not more than brushing past it. She nodded, once. “So it was in your head, just lurking there.”
There wasn’t anything useful to say to that at all.
10
LATE THAT EVENING
Vitus wasn’t sure what to say. To be fair, there were so many things all tangled together. They were like chains for a pendant that had melded and divided and twisted so many times they couldn’t be separated again. He took his time; this was like making the first cut in a stone. Everything could go right or everything could go wrong, and there wasn’t much at all in between.
First, he took a breath. Then he turned to see her better. “You realise I’m going to hate him forever for that? There are probably other things to hate him for, but that one is particularly so. He didn’t need to terrify you. Not, eh, that terrifying people is necessarily ever needed.”
Thessaly was quiet, staring off at the fire, and Vitus didn’t want to rush her. He just sat, feeling her lean on his shoulder. Quietly, not looking at him, she said, “Do you mind awfully? That he’s going to be lurking there? In the back of my head, in the back of my life, out of the corner of my eye?”
“It’s not what I’d choose. But it’s certainly a lot better than him being right there physically, isn’t it?” Vitus did not bring up the idea that had popped into his head, Childeric as a restlessghost. That certainly was a quick road to nightmares, for both of them. “I’d rather think about going forward.”
That got a sharp inhale from Thessaly. “There’s another thing.” She swallowed. “Lady Maylis raised the question with me, last Sunday, of whether I’d consider transferring the marriage agreements to Sigbert. I didn’t want a fight with her, not then— it was the month of remembrance. They have some name for it I didn’t catch, a family term? I said I’d think about it.”
“Oh.” Vitus could feel himself shifting a bit, curling back, and she turned to him, her hand on his cheek.
“I don’t want to marry Sigbert. He’d probably be better than Childeric, but I don’t know by how much. More importantly, he’s not you. And besides, it wouldn’t just be transferring agreements. We’d need a whole new one. But Father’s going to push about it, I’m almost sure, and probably Mother. Or they’re going to push for me to marry Cyrus, and I won’t do that.”
“Why are they pushing you so much? Do you know?” Vitus had been puzzled by that all along, while knowing perfectly well that the Great Families were like that.
Thessaly let out an exasperated huff. “No. And no one will tell me outright. Cousin Owain probably would if he knew, but he doesn’t. Mother won’t. Father, well. We’re not speaking to each other, and I wouldn’t trust what he said if he did say something. Maybe Mother will tell me eventually, if only so I’ll do what she wants and stop balking.”
Vitus winced, and then moved to get his arm around her more firmly. “All right. So Cyrus is because, what. Now he’s eligible and powerful, in all the ways you ought to want?” Vitus felt like all the Foxes he knew were moving entirely too fast, like a cacophony of fireworks going off one after another. “Wait. Can we stop and go back, and you tell me what you think is going on? I feel like I’m missing half of it.”
Thessaly hesitated, then she said. “Kiss, first? To make it clear one thing I want?”
He nodded, and a moment later, she was wriggling into his lap. It was awkward. Both their cloaks got in the way, until he got his cloak free and curled around her, encompassing them both in the warmth. Then he cupped her cheek in one hand and kissed her, taking his time.
That was the plan, and it didn’t last more than a few seconds. She wriggled to curl around him better, her arms around his shoulders under the cloak, as if she were soaking everything in. When she finally pulled back, her head settled on his shoulder. Vitus liked that a great deal. Then she said, carefully. “Can you reach the bag of nuts near the top? I think I want to try something. Besides seeing if I can explain.”
Vitus had to make some odd contortions, but he managed to get a grip on the bag of nuts, handing them to Thessaly. She’d shifted to be sitting more comfortably, now on the folded blankets, her legs over his, sharing the warmth. “Why the— oh.” He swallowed. “Divination?”
“It’s very traditional.” Thessaly considered. “So. Father and Mother want to see me married off properly. By their standards, that means political choices, both more immediate— what happens in, I don’t know, the next couple of decades— and longer-term, joining families. Breeding up magic in a particular way. Father’s family tends to it, the Fortiers do too. The Powells don’t so much, they just aim at competence in its many forms.”
“One of those things is less like the others,” Vitus agreed. “Do you actually want any of that? It’s not like anything I know, not firsthand.” He paused. “Mama— and Papa— would like to see me settled down. It’s good for a craftsman, it looks a lot more steady. And I’m sure Mama would like little ones to dote on, and Lucas will be a fantastic uncle. Chaotic, but fantastic.”
“I’d like to meet him sometime, if we can,” Thessaly said, quietly.
“Mama would like to meet you. When we can arrange it, I don’t know, when you don’t need to be so obviously in mourning? There are enough other houses nearby. You can’t come to us without someone possibly seeing.” Vitus made himself keep going. “She knows what I want with you. Enough of it.”
Thessaly’s thumb brushed against his cheek, and he could feel himself flushing. “I will not ask you that now. That’s not kind. Let me finish explaining.” Her hand dropped down into his lap, against his thigh, and she continued. “There’s a certain kind of family, a group of them. The ones who hold the land magic, most of them, the ones in the Albion Inheritance and whatever other philanthropic society you want to name.” She went quiet for a second. “I’m clear that holding the land magic, it’s not just power, it’s also an obligation. But I think some of them forget that, sometimes. People get caught up in their own particular plots.”
“And then there are people angling for the Council, a different kind of power. Or I suppose the top positions in the Ministry, or the Courts, or the Temple of Healing, having authority and influence?” Vitus offered.
“Exactly. Or the most skilled crafters. You know a bit more about that one, but those, and honestly, everything we just said, that takes competence, too. Being made Heir should probably mean a bit of competence?” Thessaly hesitated. “The more I think about it, the more I don’t know about Childeric. He did all right in school, but no one was really going to fail him, not on an entire year’s work, were they? The professors at Schola are independent, but not that independent.”
