“I forgot all about the gem I ate. So please accept this.” Timbrelle offered the small box to Trestovan in two outstretched arms. This was an area her etiquette classes hadn’t covered. In her panic she curtsied while bowing. There was no saving the awkward move but perhaps she could play it off as endearing rather than pathetic. Her motto.
Trestovan accepted the box with a mirrored crouching bow and a warm smile. “Welcome back to the estate. It’s lovely to see you again. I am most grateful for your gift. Do you mind if we open it over tea in the garden?” He extended an elbow. “All precious-treasure-eating is forgiven.”
“Ah, yes. How gracious of you Young Master Daliega.” She snooted with him.
“I have to send you home with a bouquet of flowers for you and everyone you know.” His voice suddenly dropped. The tone of a man whose house was flooding just a little. Slightly overwhelmed. “My mother is organizing a whole new vegetable patch in the old ruined garden. Soon the general abundance of flowers will die down.”
“The garden from the egg sandwiches?” Timbrelle asked.
“Were they that memorable? Gren never seems to tire of them—which is fortunate. If he ate this much, say, caviar, I would be out of house and home.” He mused.
“Don’t let me forget to ask you about him. First, what happened to the garden?”
“‘Nerrus has decided to restore Viridiance to the Daliega estate’ or something like that. I appreciate the aurora gem; We are endlessly grateful to your God, don’t misunderstand. I merely would have preferred a more… detailed explanation of what ‘restoring Viridiance’ had entailed. There is now a flower jungle in a perfect circle surrounding that gem.”
Timbrelle smiled at his careful wording. When the two arrived at the gazebo for teatime, Trestovan brewed the tea personally. They chatted idly before she remembered her Yostier manners.
“Please, open your gift. But, um, maybe keep it out of my reach.” She held her breath. One thousand aurora stones were intoxicating, overpowering, nauseating. But one singular ruby? It was a siren’s song. As Trestovan opened the velvet box she lurked across the table, trying not to pounce on the gift. A seagull and a lone French fry.
“Is this an aurora stone? It’s far, far larger than the one you ate. The temple is truly too generous with such a large jewel.” His awe and gratitude were undercut by a faint note of distrust. “I fear house Daliega may be indebted to receive such a magnanimous gift.”
“You don’t want to accept such a big gift from the Temple of Nerrus because you’re worried they’ll ask for something later? Am I getting that right?” She translated for herself.
Trestovan chuckled. “I don’t usually say something that offensive so straight forward. It is proper Yostier etiquette to be polite in your disrespect. But… yes.”
“It’s not from the temple.” She pointed to her name on the heartfelt apology. “That was my ruby. I should get credit for the magnanimity, not Nerrus. You can feel weirdly indebted to me and have my ulterior motives to fear.”
Trestovan’s brow relaxed. He let out a tired laugh. “Then that is another thing entirely. I am accustomed to combativeness and secrecy as an overarching theme to my conversations. I feel different with you. You’re special. You’re not like other girls.”
Timbrelle’s face scrunched into a look of disgust. “First of all: gross. ‘You’re not like other girls’? Blech. Second: You should consider changing the way you talk to people. I know your favorite color is Gren, but it isn’t really obvious when you flirt with everyone and their grandmother. Especially in front of him.”
She wasn’t sure about this relationship with Trestovan. She’d offended house Daliega… at least… they had every right to be upset. But they hadn’t mentioned recompense to her or the Temple. Had Gren overinflated the importance of the tiny stone? Or had Daliega been hiding their displeasure? For what? There was no telling their opinion of her. She did not know where she stood in their estimation and in regard to such a powerful family, it made her nervous to be around him. He would be a fun friend, but his very existence was deeply entrenched in politics.
“Is it truly that egregious?“ he sighed, slumping in his chair. “I am a reformed man when in comparison to my younger self. To hear from a new acquaintance, unaccustomed to my previous reputation, that I am still so far from the mark…”
“You’re trying to change your behavior? For Gren?” Timbrelle asked, surprised at his unaristocratic sincerity.
“As refreshing as it is to have someone who does not know my past, it does require me to describe my own debauchery.” His expression grim determination. “However… my mother’s garden is perhaps the worst place for this conversation. May I invite you to dinner?”
“A dinner in a place more suited for ‘debaucherous’ conversation?” Timbrelle’s eyebrows disappeared into the tight curls of her bangs. She’d missed bars. The occasional club was fun and she’d even been to a few strip clubs in her previous life for what she assumed had been bachelorette parties. She couldn’t tell if the details were fuzzy from alcohol or the frequent holes in her memory.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“I will bring an outfit for you. And despite what your face is saying, I am not a pervert. Dressing appropriately is important. Not only will aristocrats be attending, there will be commoners and a great deal of seedy characters. Nobility could even attend. You’ll understand when we get there.”
“That’s assuming a lot. I rarely understand.” She said before shoving a large spoonful of cake into her mouth. “Mmm… It really pays to have rich friends. This is delicious. It tastes like German Chocolate cake from back home. I always feel like I’m eating ‘flurkey’, ‘gicken’ and ‘bork’ here. It’s nice to eat something familiar.”
Trestovan laughed uproariously. “Stop it, stop it! I can’t be dignified with you acting like this.”
“Is ‘Gicken’ the name of a god here or something?”
“No! Well… I think Bork may actually be the name of a god somewhere in the miasma. That’s hardly here nor there. It is absolutely the height of comedy that you refer to me as your ‘rich’ friend. That congregation of yours could trample house Daliega in a day. Selling a stone the size you ate would pay our entire estate staff for a full pay period. And your head priest sticks them to envelopes like decoration.” He shook his head. “Gren and I are your poorest friends, Timbrelle. My father has all but commanded me to apologize for whatever misstep made you scorn Daliega. Before you object—I know you did not intend discourtesy. However, my father will now read into this enormous ruby as a request for an alliance with Daliega. Frankly, there can be no other meaning. Even if you insist there are honest intentions, the gift far outweighs the slight. It is objectively suspicious.”
“Dammit. Should I have brought a smaller one? I will say- I only have rubies so I can’t actually replace the orange one perfectly. But even the smallest one I have is bigger than the one I ate.” She counted off the remaining rubies hidden in Adna’s room. If she started with seven, ate one, split the rest with Adna, and gave one to Trestovan, she had two left to sell and run away if she needed to. Those two needed to be protected at all costs. A girl needed a retirement after all.
“…we would not be a poor ally to have.” Trestovan said. “If you have gems to burn, why not exchange one for Duke Daliega’s friendship? You have his interest, when you could command his respect.”
Timbrelle considered the man. Purple shadows hung below his eyes. The usual long, blond ponytail was immaculate as ever, but some of the shine had come off the apple the past week. He exuded weariness.
“I think to need to talk to Fe-“ she clamped her mouth shut. No one knew who worshipped Nerrus. “-FEEL OUT what Adna thinks.”
“Please, do inform her she can come tonight—no aristocrats aristocrating. I’m strangely eager to win her over.”
***
“What do you need help carrying?” Adna asked. She was groggy, a sign that she hadn’t woken up at Timbrelle’s arrival, only her persistent knocking. The woman was probably narcoleptic, though this world hadn’t recognized the word when she’d suggested it.
Timbrelle led her through the door and again through the same door out onto the street. She gestured broadly at the dozens upon dozens of bouquets that littered the street. The two knights who accompanied her home worked dutifully to unload the many remaining bundles.
“Trestovan proposed, huh? I thought for sure he was into Gren.” She turned to Timbrelle and grabbed both hands in hers, holding them to her breast. “How could you tell me like this? I’ve been betrayed.”
“You act like this and you can bring them in yourself. Grab those ones first.” She gestured to a pair of sunflowers with candy pink petals. Like all of the other flowers, these ones were exponentially bigger than they should would be.
“Did you come home through the Titus? Why are there so many monstrously large flowers here?” She picked up the sunflowers which stayed rigid like a 2x4 on her shoulder. “I don’t think these will fit in the building.”
By the time they had finished sorting the flowers, hauling them into the temple and giving away the edible varieties to their neighbors, another carriage pulled up.
“You can’t be back yet! I haven’t even gotten to lay down.” Timbrelle whined at Trestovan through the dinky carriage’s window.
“Call it my mother’s revenge for ruining her flower garden. She genuinely loved it before the beds exploded. You can figure out what to do with today’s harvest. Now here are your outfits.” He passed two nondescript boxes out of the window.
“I’d invite you in, but there are quite a few members of the congregation inside.” Timbrelle said.
“My dear woman, there is no way I would be seen dead as myself in this outfit.” He slid the window closed.
Adna turned thrilled, terrifying eyes on her partner. “Where are we going, Timbrelle?“
“I was going to tell you! Let me explain while we change.” She avoided the question, ducking into the temple.
Adna peeked into the box. “It will need to be a really short explanation.”
***
“You will not wear that outside!” Tuna descended on them like like a mountain lion dispatching her prey. “I will not allow it! You look like you’re headed to an orgy!”
”I sure hope so…” Adna trailed off when Tuna’s expression turned murderous.
Morto walked to Tuna, nonchalant. Without pause, he embraced her from behind, the flash of his arm rubies told them that he was using his incredible strength to waylay their opposition.
“Run.” He said calmly.
“Take a robe with you.” Dorsus added from behind his newspaper. The normally uninterested man only spoke when his stones compelled him to. A line of diamonds in descending sizes starting from his forehead and coming to an end at the nape of his neck. They were uncertain if he could speak otherwise. The effect of an order from Dorsus was immediate. Timbrelle and Adna turned on their heel in prefect synchrony, snatching a silky black cloak and escaping before Tuna could stop them.
It was insanity to ignore advice from the congregation’s seer.
“We love you! Thank you! Sorry! Goodnight!” Adna shouted. Timbrelle waved, and shut the door.