“I knew she was worried. And as I said, she talked to me about it directly, on the solstice, as we were getting ready.” Thessaly had thought through this dozens of times before now. “Do you know why she changed her will when she did?”
Cousin Owain coughed. “Oh, well. You were her primary heir from the time you finished Schola, for what it’s worth, though she rearranged some pieces. And she was already considering how to pass the house to you. As I said at the reading of the will, she argued for the right to name her successor ten years ago. Knowing you would go to Schola.”
Thessaly swallowed. “I do love it. I was hating how someone would do something ordinary with it, take down all the wallpaper and the colours.” She gestured at the patterns visible around the bookshelves. “I find it cheerful.”
Cousin Owain nodded. “You should have as much cheerful as you wish. It is your home.” He cleared his throat. “I was closerwith Metaia than I think most of the family realised. There were certainly things she didn’t tell Sioned.”
Thessaly’s chin came up sharply, because there was something in his tone. “You don’t trust Mother, do you?”
There was a silence, then Cousin Owain’s voice was delicate like a rapier. “You don’t either.”
“No. Not now.” Thessaly would not attempt to lie. That was certainly the wrong way, here. She would twist and fall and lose all hope of balance. She carefully reached for her tea, took a sip, and then put the cup down. “And Aunt Metaia didn’t.”
“Also no. Not about a number of things.” Cousin Owain paused for a moment. “It was not. How do I say this? It was not for any large reason. She trusted Sioned to be a good mother. Though I think Metaia had some doubts, the last month or two. But instead, it was a question of priorities. Family status, the proper breeding of the next generation, rather than happiness or a contribution to the greater whole of Albion.”
Thessaly looked up at that. “The Council.”
“The Council, but also many other roles. The Ministry, the Courts, the Guard and Penelopes, all the specialists who add their knowledge and skill to the world, coming up with new ways to improve things.” Cousin Owain spread his hands. “I am curious what you will come up with, given the opportunity. On that point, as you are going through Metaia’s notes, you might consider expanding your illusion work to some of what she was doing, protecting spaces. Romulus Heath is handling it for the moment, but we could use another person able to take on some of that. It’s an ongoing process, maintaining them and creating new illusions. He would be glad to train you on that side of it once your apprenticeship is complete.”
It was not something Thessaly had spoken of, other than briefly with Magistra Landry. “You don’t think I should marrysome appropriate scion and devote myself to producing children, do you?”
“If you wish to marry, and especially if you choose someone who makes you happy, and children follow, then I wish you whatever blessings in that realm you care for. But you are a clever young woman. You are magically skilled. It would be a shame for your talents to be limited to whatever the current fad is in party decoration or costume. Not that those things aren’t lovely, but other skills are needed too.”
She considered watching him for a moment. “The Council, you look as if everything is under control, and instead, you’re all scrambling a bit, when no one’s looking, aren’t you?”
Cousin Owain laughed ruefully. “Yes. And the more so right now. When Cyrus settles into things, perhaps a little less. The changes, a new person, that always takes a little to understand, and this one more than most.” He let out a breath. “Now, I should leave you to your papers and go home. I have an evening free for the first time in what seems like months, and I have a book I want to read.”
Thessaly did not mention she expected another caller. She stood. “I’ll walk you out, of course. Perhaps I might come and call sometime soon? I had a bit of embroidery to show Aunt Tegwen, one of the patterns she was curious about.”
“We would like that quite a lot.” They walked out to the fence and the portal with little further conversation. When he left, Thessaly retreated into the warding, with perhaps half an hour before Vitus was likely to appear. At the earliest.
6
OCTOBER 17TH AT BRYN GLAS
When Vitus came through the portal, Thessaly was there, waiting. He was a hair later than he’d wanted to be. He’d stopped in one of Trellech’s bookstores on the way to Portal Square, to pick up two titles he thought she might like. Vitus held them up, tied up in paper and string. “Apologies for being a tad late, but I brought books?”
She came over to him, laughing, then tugged him along into the warding. “I do not need more books, but I am entirely curious.”
Vitus did his part by refusing to tell her what they were until they were sitting down. This turned out to be in the library, with a table set up for eating. “If you don’t mind eating down here, supper at seven?”
“Of course not. I am your guest. I should get home by, oh, nine? Niobe wanted me to consult on something in the morning, and I’ll need my wits.” Vitus looked at her, and offered a smile. “A delighted guest. Glad to enjoy whatever you offer.” Then he blushed, because he had and hadn’t meant that innuendo. He cleared his throat hurriedly. “You are less brightly coloured today?”
“Cousin Owain was here earlier, and I didn’t know what he’d think about the more vibrant versions.” Thessaly tilted her head. “I’d like to talk that out with you, actually. Do you mind?”
Vitus shook his head. “Of course not.” The thing of it was, every time she trusted him like that, he fell in love with her a little more. Or it became a little more certain. It was like cutting a gem, the way tiny gestures, piece by piece, formed facet after facet. He felt falling in love was about working with the stone itself, the way it wanted to cleave and shape, and also about being delicate, not rushing anything. It was an excellent metaphor, and it meant, he hoped, that sometime he’d look and it would be there, blazing away for everyone to see. Undeniable.
Thessaly considered, then nestled in against him, as he moved his arm around her. Today, she wore no bustle, but she had put on a corset. Presumably so as not to scandalise her cousin entirely. It meant she was leaning, more than curled up against him, but they would manage well enough. He listened as she explained what sounded like a fair bit of the conversation.
“It’s curious that your cousin said he doesn’t trust your mother. Both parts. Not trusting and also telling you about it.” Vitus was caught by that one.
“He also said nothing about you, when he might have. I’d not have answered, not right now.” She twisted to look up at him. “I feel very private about you at the moment. Does that bother you?”
Vitus wanted to shout from the top of Snowdonia— or in Portal Square, there would be more people to hear there— that he loved Thessaly. But she was right, not just now. She was supposed to be in mourning. They had to behave properly in public. In due course, in five or six months, they could build what they wanted with other people seeing. “I did tell you Mama knows, didn’t I?” He thought he had. But the times he’d seen herwere still simultaneously precious and detailed in his memory on other nights, and sometimes jumbled.
“You did. That’s different.” Thessaly let out a soft breath. “You trust your mother. That part is very different.” Before he could say anything, she added, “Mother is in a difficult position, and I understand that. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to keep doing things for her benefit. I want to help Hermia, when I can, but Hermia doesn’t know what she wants yet herself. Apprenticeship, maybe, but it would take the right thing. I’m sure Father is looking to make arrangements for her to marry.”
“She could refuse now, yes?” Vitus was not entirely sure how that worked at this point.
