Thessaly took a few steps, first sitting on the bed, then falling backwards on it. “That’s really something I could do?”
“Mmhm. You could go to your duelling. Merryn and Thirza have both encouraged me to invite you round to the Four Metals a bit, if you wanted company without bother on the street..” He hesitated. “And there’s the question of names. If we marry, youcould be Deschamps. Much less likely to draw attention than Lytton-Powell.”
It made her laugh. “True.” She let out a long sigh. “My sister?”
“Ask your cousin about that. And Magistra Hereswith. They owe us rather a lot. I suspect they could work something out. Set up your sister to be a companion to someone who could mentor her properly, get her away from your family. Especially if there’s any leverage over your father. And then, of course, take some steps to avoid your father marrying Hermia off without her permission.” Thessaly made a thoughtful sound at that. Vitus added, “Talk to them about it, anyway. See what they think.”
Thessaly was quiet, long enough for Vitus to finish stripping out of his clothing. He tidied her gown and corset to where they could be tended in the morning, then offered her a hand up so she could get out of the remaining petticoats. “You really think it could work?”
“I think we won’t know unless we try. Unless we ask for what we want.” Vitus let out a puff of breath, then held out his arms to her. She stepped into them. He let his fingers run against her skin. “I want to make a life with you. I want the people we care about to be happy. The rest of it will come.”
“Children?” Her voice was quieter now. “Commissions?”
“Do you mind if I take commissions from the Great Families?” She shook her head. “More reason to keep the flat, or something like it. A neutral space, nowhere near here. I can be entirely mysterious about my beloved wife, who keeps busy with her own interests. My work does sometimes involve a dinner invitation or something like that, but it won’t be a problem to go by myself. Niobe’s never had that problem.”
“Huh.” Thessaly took a step back, closer to the bed. “You didn’t answer the other.”
“Children? If you are willing, I’d love that. I kept thinking, seeing you with Garin, what kind of mother you might be. What kind of father I might be? And Mama and Papa would be delighted, though they’d be the first to say such things should be our choice.”
“Do you, wait? I don’t know how to say this.” Her voice cracked. “Do you think they’d help me figure out how to do it properly? Warmly?”
Vitus turned to kiss her, taking his time with it. “I am certain Mama would be delighted. She always wanted a daughter. And she knows, a little, about how much it hurt you, people not telling you important things, not asking about them. I’m sure she won’t.”
“She was very kind at supper. Checking in advance about the meal, about what would make me feel at ease.” Thessaly pulled back again, just enough to look at him. “And she’s like that all the time?”
“Oh, yes.” Vitus grinned. “I’ll talk to her. And if you wanted to be somewhere else for a bit, while everything settles down, perhaps you and she could go to one of the baths and have time to talk, in a relaxed way. Away from Albion. Or not.” He wasn’t at all sure how Thessaly would take that.
“You worry about her.” Thessaly hesitated. “I don’t know how to worry about someone, kindly, like that?”
This, now, required another kiss, and Vitus nudging her to settle in the bed, the rearrangement of blankets and sheets and pillows. Once they were properly sorted, him leaning on his side, he said, as firmly as he could, “I am certain you know. And can learn more. You’ve done well worrying about me. Do you really think your family means you can’t?”
There was one of the longest silences yet. Finally, she just nodded.
“Your aunt was warm, your aunt loved you, your aunt worried about you and your sister and her friends. I am certain she taught you a great deal of that, by example. Mama— and Lucas, and even Papa— will be glad to help more. And I am quite able to tell you what I want, or if you do something I don’t like. Let me prove it to you?”
Her breath caught at that. “It’s just. I don’t want to do that. What I was raised to. I want to do something else. I want, I want something solid, stone and metal and the earth under my feet. Not illusions, not pretty words, not the show covering up chasms.”
“We’ll find that together.” Then Vitus grinned, suddenly. “And perhaps for the moment, a bit more earthy pleasure?”
It made Thessaly giggle, just as he’d hoped, the tension popping like a soap bubble. “Did you have something in mind, sir?”
“So many things it will take us a lifetime.” Vitus began with a kiss as his hand shifted between them, to arrange body against body. He planned to take his time, to work her to such delight she couldn’t think, before he fed his own desires. He’d wanted it since they left for supper, in fact. Before that.
Epilogue
SEPTEMBER 3RD AT THE POWELL ESTATES AND BRYN GLAS
It was not how Thessaly had imagined her wedding day, back when she expected to be marrying Childeric. It was, in truth, far better. But it had taken her time, months, to get her head around the idea of something that wasn’t entirely to the Fortier customs.
That had apparently been something of a feat. Magistra Hereswith had confided privately to Thessaly and Vitus that it had taken every one of her diplomatic skills and a scattering of chosen threats to bring Thessaly’s parents into compliance with the plans. In the end, they’d arranged for the wedding itself to be in the gardens at the ancient Powell estate. Vitus and his parents had been consulted about the customs they most cared about.
One argument had been about timing. Thessaly’s preference had decidedly been for an autumn wedding. Vitus expected to be particularly busy with items for holiday gifts in October and November, along with some work for maintenance talismans for the Council keep. Planning the whole thing in two months had meant no one could come up with ridiculous and unnecessary celebratory ideas. Perhaps most relevant, the sooner theymarried, the sooner the threat of being forced to marry someone else would evaporate.
And, to be honest, doing it while Dagobert and Laudine were still in formal mourning simplified things no end. There was not a precise number for ‘mourning one’s nephew, from whom one had inherited the title’, but Thessaly had gathered they were using six months as a reasonable count. Which meant marrying before mid-October was preferable. For her, at least.
She had not seen them since that meeting, though Vitus had, of course, continued with the commission for them. He had told Thessaly that it seemed to be working as intended. A few months space had brought Thessaly to a point where she wished them no ill. But she also wanted them at a substantial distance, both physical and emotional.
Thessaly might also have once wanted a life where she could teach Garin a bit of duelling. Where conversations with an extended family, each with their own gifts, could be shared, not seen as something dangerous. She hated leaving him alone that way, it wasn’t his fault. But she could not bear to be near his father, or at Arundel, and that mattered more.
