Status: Work In Progress

A Single Candle to Warm a Home

Burning the Leaf

“Archmage Fallorn,” Kathelind called out to the scholar as she stepped into the reading room in The Crystal Library. He had, of course, stacked nearly a dozen books on the table beside him, and lounged casually in a plush chair, plucking through a particularly large tome as if it were a children’s book. While Kathelind could not help but admire the fact that at least someone felt relaxed in the reserve, and also read the old musty books that it kept, she was also rather vexed at just how at home he seemed in her estate. “How goes the research?”
“Lady Greenlee.” His voice rumbled over to her lazily like a bear might approach it’s den. “My research goes quite well, thank you for asking. Your conservator is exceptionally helpful. Deserves a raise, that one.”
“Mr. Saurius is an excellent employee.” Kathelind agreed coolly, surprised he’d been so forward with his off-handed comment. “Although it is not his fault you were allowed in today.”
Calham cocked an eyebrow, curious as to what she was suggesting, but too lazy, she suspected, to come right out and ask. The archmage was, more or less, a man of few words.
“You mentioned an oh-so-favorable deal the last time we met, Calham.” She clarified. “Please do explain.”
Sighing, the mage set his book aside. “It’s not ready yet, Kate.”
At first, Kathelind was taken aback to hear him refer to her by her childhood nickname. Kathelind was well aware he’d learned it from her father, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t stunned he had the gall to use it. She thought briefly about chastising him for such casual behavior, it lacked a decorum that ladies of her station normally required. But then she thought about men of her station, and what names they called each other by. Following that, she thought perhaps “Kate” showed more respect than “Lady Greenlee.”
“What’s not ready?” Kathelind wanted to know.
“Can’t tell you that.” He answered easily. “Give me a week, I’ll tell you then.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re just giving me the run around?”
“I swear I’m not, if that helps.”
Kathelind raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know that I can trust you on just that.”
Standing up, Calham commented in a resigned tone, “I take it you’re kicking me out, then.”
She frowned. Given his relationship with her father, the archmage should have been one of the easier allies for her to make, and somehow he was turning out to be the exact opposite. Harfellorn himself, her nemesis if she ever had one, had been ten times more agreeable than the mage.
It wasn’t strictly Calham’s fault, either… Kathelind just found him difficult to deal with. “I trust you, Cal, it’s just… I can’t come off as weak. Giving you access to my library for a week? For free?”
“Your political game is a hell of a lot harder to win than mine is, Kate.” He agreed, walking towards her. “I understand the reasoning.”
She folded her arms. Feeling guilty about treating an old family friend with such distrust, she nodded to the stack of books and said, “You can take three, but that’s it. And don’t damage or lose them either, or you’ll really have to pay.”
He didn’t smile, but she could tell he was satisfied with her reply. Damn her for being soft-hearted. “I’ll check them out with the conservator, don’t worry.”
“Don’t be so smug about it, either.” She grumbled, turning for the door. Then, mirthlessly, she added, “Enjoy your research.”
“Kathelind,” He called, halting her in her tracks. “There is one more thing, while you’re here.”
Turning back to face him, Kathelind met his cool eyes. They were exactly the color of stone; grey, and dispassionate.
“I’m sorry, for what happened earlier.”
He didn’t have to say what he was sorry about for Kathelind to understand. She knew the moment he said “one more thing.”
“It’s alright, Cal.” She replied quietly, not really wanting to get into the conversation.
“It was insensitive of me.” He forged on. “I never meant to make things more difficult for you.”
“I can handle it.” Kathelind declared. She’d meant to hold his stare, but only after another second of peering into those cold eyes, her gaze dropped to the ground.
“I don’t doubt that you can, Kate.” He clarified.
Why was he being so kind to her? Why so sympathetic? He spoke like he knew, really knew, how she must feel, how much it hurt to lose a parent. Calham had been close to her father, yes, but it just wasn’t the same as what she shared with him. Varn was her father, not Calham’s. He couldn’t know, not in the way Kathelind did, which meant the sympathy, and it’s striking sincerity… It just didn’t sit well with her.
Shaking her head as if to rid her mind of those thoughts, Kathelind sought a desperate escape from the dangerous conversation. Then, in what had to come as something of a shock to the mage, because it shocked even Kathelind that the question came to mind right then, she asked, “Why call me Kate?”
Stunned by her drastic change in subject, he cocked his head. “I’m sorry?”
“Why do you call me Kate?” She repeated. “Only my close friends and family…” She trailed off, thinking, darkly, that she didn’t have close family anymore. “Only they call me Kate.”
“Well,” He paused, pondering the question for sometime before responding, with the smallest hint of humor, “You call me Cal, don’t you?”

Perched far above the city, Kathelind watched in awe as the sun set behind the distant mountains and a thousand tiny little lanterns turned on, one by one, to light up Citadel. Her gondola was beginning to slow, and beginning to descend, as it drew closer to civilization. What was normally a day and a half trip via carriage had been shortened to a half-hour commute with the invention of magic. While mages could perform a whole manner of curious things, the bit of magic Kathelind admired the most was the way in which they had designed gondolas. Carriages in the sky, there was nothing more bewitching in the entire world.
Adelysia of Waldenmont, Kathelind’s only lady-in-waiting, murmured a word of awe as they descended into the docking bay. “By Eathe, Aeschine is mystical tonight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so bright.”
“Have you never been to Flaming Eve, Adelysia?” Kathelind asked curiously. Most duchesses didn’t have quite the aversion to courtly gatherings that Kathelind had, and, as such, most duchesses’ ladies-in-waiting had attended every Flaming Eve since they’d come into society. Of course, Kathelind was not most duchesses. She only had one lady-in-waiting, a small number indeed, especially compared to Lady Merelen’s twenty. Any less than five ladies-in-waiting was considered uncharitable, except for when it came to Kathelind. She was always the exception.
“No, Kate, I daresay I haven’t.” She commented, still staring at Aeschine.
“You will enjoy tonight then.” Kathelind assured her. “I used to come all the time, when I was younger and forced to attend with my father. It was fun back then, when I was allowed to run around the palace without a care for what others thought. Things started to changed when I was about sixteen, and, as you very well know, by the time I turned nineteen and had just entered society, I was avoiding frivolous balls altogether.”
“You’ve always been unlike many other duchesses at that, Kate.” Adelysia smiled. “‘Tis why I enjoy being your lady-in-waiting.”
Kathelind returned her smile with a knowing look. Adelysia, unlike many other noblewoman, had a mind for politics and reasoning. So much so that Adelysia was less of a lady-in-waiting and more of a professional secretary.
“I do fear, Adelysia, we will have to withstand our fair share of the gentry tonight.” The duchess commented with remorse.
Her lady-in-waiting laughed softly. “You act as if marriage will be the death of you, Kate. I, for one, can attest that it’s really not as bad as it seems.”
“Well, Adelysia, your husband is quite reasonable.” Kathelind scoffed. “I’m not sure I’ll have quite the same luck.”
“You’re so pessimistic, I swear. Nearly every man out tonight will want for your hand in marriage. There will absolutely be at least one who is reasonable.”
“Reasonable about his chances of seizing power over my duchy, maybe.”
Sighing, Adelysia shook her head as she stepped out of the gondola. “Do try and give some men a chance, Kate. You’ll be needing too.”
“Men are horrible.” She groaned as she followed Adelysia into the carriage that awaited them.
“Those dukes you contend with certainly are. Galloworn, in particular, I dare say.”
“Oh he’s a piece of work, that one.” Kathelind crossed her arms and propped her feet up on the seat across from her in what was most assuredly an unfeminine manner. Adelysia, knowing that no one could bear witness to their criminal behavior, followed suit. “He’s mad my father always had the better economy.”
“Money is power, they say.”
“It is!” Kathelind exclaimed. “It is, Adelysia. Now I, a woman, has more power than he! So he must curse me by disallowing me to choose my own husband.”
“You can choose your own husband, Kate.” Adelysia countered.
“Hardly. They have to approve him!” She snorted unappreciated. “A vote for my husband. I cannot believe the gall of those men.”
“You only need two more votes.” Her lady-in-waiting pointed out keenly. “The king will vote for whomever you choose. He feels sorry for you, you know.”
“I know he does, but how can I get two of the dukes do agree on a man that does not give them leverage over my duchy, hmm?”
“Whithan’s a kind fellow, yes?”
“Whithan and I have a very lucrative business deal.” Kathelind corrected. “But that does not put him above trying to influence my duchy. Still, I suppose he wouldn’t try and hinder me too much. At least he shows a sliver of respect for me.”
“And what about Archmage Fallorn, then?” Adelysia wanted to know.
“What about him?”
“How hard would it be to secure his vote?”
That question gave Kathelind pause. Normally, she’d make some snarky comment about Calham being harder to read than a book written in Tantusan, but then she remembered something about books. More specifically, about research, and a library she happened to own.
“Curious you mention that, Adelysia.” She commented. “He wants access to The Crystal Library, you know. I might be able to trade that in exchange for his vote.”
“Seems reasonable to me.” She concluded as the carriage came to a halt. Then, after taking a peek out of the carriage window, she announced, “We’re here.”
“I’d tell you to reign in your astonishment when you see the hall, but having already experienced it myself, I know that’s impossible.” Kathelind smiled at Adelysia. “Do enjoy yourself tonight.”
“Likewise, Kate.”
Kathelind stepped from the carriage into the palace courtyard. Although she had been there many, many times before, the vision before her caused even her tempered jaw to drop. The magical lights, the delicate music floating in from the ballroom, the appetizing smell of the feast that awaited them were secondary to the most stunning picture in all of Farlond: Aeschine, the Silver Tree.
Tonight it glowed brighter than ever, it’s only two leaves dangling from select branches precariously. If one didn’t know the tree or it’s lore very well, they might think both leaves were about to drop dead. That was, however, simply untrue. Aeschine only ever lost one leaf, always on the same night every year. That night, was, of course, Flaming Eve, named so for the moment the leaf went up in flames so that it, like the dead, might be sent to the river and back to Eathe.
So while it was true that Aeschine would undoubtedly lose one of its leaves when the clock struck midnight, it would certainly retain the other, at least until the next year’s Flaming Eve came. Truth be told, the citizens of Farlond weren’t exactly sure what was going to happen after the last Flaming Eve. Legend had it that the tree was once a wedding present from Eathe to a chivalrous knight, Pierce of Citadel, that she had once fallen in love with. Eathe had given Farlond Aeschine, a glittering tree with a thousand leaves to represent the thousand years that she would steal Pierce away from the mortal world.
Perhaps, on the thousandth year, he would finally return.
Kathelind, however, didn’t care much for urban legend. She rather just though Aeschine a rare sort of tree, and once it lost all its leaves, that was that. It was only a matter of time before an explorer sailed south to discover that Aeschine wasn’t actually that unique, and that an abundance of Aeschines littered the shores of Nahanda. Kathelind’s theory had yet to have proven true, of course, but she still considered it the most reasonable.
“By Eathe,” Adelysia muttered quietly as they walked through the courtyard. “But Aeschine is beautiful.”
“I wonder if it will still glow.” Kathelind commented as they approached the palace doors. “Once it has lost all of its leaves, that is.”
“Now that’s a dour thought, Kate.” Adelysia scowled at her. “Can you imagine it? Aeschine, no longer shining?”
“No, I certainly can’t.”
Stepping into the palace interior, Kathelind sucked in a deep breath, preparing herself for the battle she was about to wage. Carefully, she ventured towards the buffet, thinking that a touch of alcohol might make what was about to happen a lot easier to handle. Unfortunately for the duchess, she barely made it through the threshold before a swarm of eligible noblemen were biting at her heels.
“Lady Greenlee, how do you fare this fine evening?” A confident earl by the name of Emeric Talbot sauntered over to her.
“Quite well, Lord Talbot. And how about yourself?” She replied diplomatically, but did not stop heading towards the dining room.
“Very well indeed, Lady Greenlee.” He smiled at her what he must have thought was a rather charming smile. Were Kathelind a young, impressionable woman, he might have won a part of her with that smile, but as it happened, Kathelind knew the Talbot estate was under the governance of Harfellorn, and therefore marrying Talbot was quite out of the question. “Why, just earlier today I was informed that one of our men from Winselt had recently been promoted to Vice Admiral.”
“Happy day, Lord Talbot.” She said without a touch of enthusiasm. “You must be proud.”
“Of course, Lady Greenlee.” He continued. “Winselt is known for producing only the best naval officers. Have you ever been to Winselt, my Lady?”
“I’m afraid I cannot say that I have.” She replied evenly, shooting Adelysia a look that begged for help.
“It’s quite a charming town, you know. My estate overlooks the sea from the tallest peak in the region. Quite the sight to behold.”
“Lord Talbot, as incredible as your estate may be,” Adelysia cut in politely, “Lady Greenlee has some business to attend to before she is able to entertain social visits. Surely you understand.”
“Of course, Lady Greenlee. My apologies.” He bowed.
“Think nothing of it, Lord Talbot.” Kathelind said to him before finally reaching the dining hall. By some miracle of Eathe, Kathelind and Adelysia managed to make it to the alcohol unaccosted.
“You cannot dodge all of them, Kate.” Adelysia stated sharply. “Neither can you drink yourself into happiness.”
Sighing, Kathelind replied, “I’m not going to get drunk, Adelysia. I agree, that would be immensely unwise. As for the avoiding, well, I beg to differ.”
“Avoiding the noblemen would rather defeat the purpose of coming here, don’t you think?” Adelysia pointed out.
Kathelind glared teasingly at her friend. “Sometimes I hate that you make such sense.”
“Come now, Kate, you’ve found yourself in a position that most women could only dream of being in. Most eligible bachelorette at the ball? Why all the noblewomen must positively hate you!”
Laughing sardonically, “As much as being hated by my fellow women may seem like something a duchess would enjoy, I can assure you, Adelysia, I’d rather not be hated by any of them. I’d rather like them to accept me, actually, but I don’t think they’ll ever do that.”
Adelysia opened her mouth to reply, but shut it quickly as another young suitor approached. After taking a large gulp of her wine, Kathelind set the glass aside and smiled as pleasantly as she could at the hapless man, determined, despite herself, to at least give him a semblance of a chance.

“Lady Greenlee, I was wondering if we might dance the twenty-third together?” A count, at least, Kathelind thought he was a count, she couldn’t quite remember, asked her nervously.
Feigning disappointment, she replied, “I’m so sorry, my lord, but I’ve already promised that dance to another, you see?”
A complete lie, to be sure, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Oh that is unfortunate.” His eyes cast to the ground, and for a moment she actually felt bad for the man. It was made worse by the fact that she’d forgotten his name. “Well, at least allow me to keep you company until your partner arrives. Won’t be long now, and I hate to leave a lady in solitude.”
Never solitude, what horror! Why men thought ladies craved socialization like chocolate, she would never know. Chocolate was sweet and delectable and people were… not.
“That isn’t necessary, my lord.” She smiled tightly at him. “He’ll be along shortly, never fear.”
“Pardon my boldness, but, who is the lucky fellow who claimed the dance?” The perhaps-count wanted to know.
It took all the willpower Kathelind had not to downright scowl at the man. Either he was disrespectfully inquisitive, or he was cleverer than she gave him credit for. Normally she’d appreciate either trait, but as it happened, she really, really just wanted to be left alone.
“I am.” A familiar, unusually welcome voice wafted over in the ballroom. Amazing how in such a cacophonous hall, the mage could speak so quietly, so coolly, and still be heard.
Kathelind smiled tightly at the count, hopefully in an apologetic manner, but truth be told she wasn’t all that sorry to see him go.
“Archmage Fallorn, I had no idea.” He took a step back clearly stunned by his appearance.
Calham placed his hand at the small of Kathelind’s back in a manner that she thought was particularly familiar for the mage. Many men had tried that same trick that very night, but Calham was the last person she’d expected to do it. He was also the only one she let get away with it.
“Think nothing of it, Hamelin.” He replied coolly. “It’s just a dance. Why, Lady Greenlee only suffers me out of politeness, you see. Wouldn’t dance with me at all if I weren’t on the council with her.”
The expression on Hamelin’s face implied that he thought differently. In fact, he probably thought Calham was making a bid for her hand. Anyone who was witnessing the encounter, which was anyone with eyes, probably thought the same. To most of the ladies, it was probably a relief that she leave their heartthrobs alone and settle with the reclusive academic, but to most of the lords, especially insignificant perhaps-counts like Hamelin, it must have been intimidating. There were only two bachelors in all of Farlond who were Kathelind’s peers, and one of them, Oweyn Harfellorn, was obviously not in the running. Even the noble class knew that much.
Calham was, as always, a wild card. At times, she’d heard noble ladies openly wonder whether or not the mage was even attracted to women, but to see him with her at a time like this, well, it could only mean one thing in the eyes of onlookers. Those speculations showed exactly how little the ruling class knew about Calham. Granted, Kathelind didn’t know him all that much better, but she damn well knew him enough to know he wasn’t about to propose.
“Here now, Calham.” She scolded him. “You make me seem so severe.”
His voice dropped as he replied, dryly, “You are severe.”
“Nonsense.” She contested, shaking her head. “Well, my lord, do forgive us, I believe the twenty-third is about to start.”
“Of course.” Hamelin nearly stammered as he stepped out of the way of the most powerful couple in the room, save for the queen and king.
Placing her hand on his shoulder and the other one in his grasp, Kathelind regarded the wall behind his face intensely for the seconds preluding the music. She wasn’t sure if it was the dancing or just Calham in general, but she wasn’t too keen on peering into his eyes.
“Good timing, Cal.” She commented as they swayed about the room. “I dare say you were eavesdropping with how you inserted yourself so flawlessly. Only thing is, I didn’t see you anywhere about beforehand.”
“Curious, that.” He agreed.
“Makes a girl wonder, you know? Wonder how you did it.” She cocked an eyebrow, trying to get him to admit to something.
“Well, at the university we’ve been studying this new phenomenon. It might explain what you observed.” He said, straight-faced.
“And what’s that?” She asked, not completely sure what he’d say in response.
“You can’t tell anyone, it’s quite unusual.” He continued in a hushed tone, “At the academy, we’ve taken to calling it ‘magic.’”
Rolling her eyes, Kathelind couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Calham never, ever made jokes, or, at least, if he did, they were lost on her. This one stood out as an appreciated rarity.
“The real question is why, isn’t it?” She asked keenly.
“I’ve a proposition for you. The deal, in return for access to your library.”
“Ah, yes, that. What’s the proposition, then?”
“It’s, um…” He trailed off, looking to the ground, almost as if he were unsure of himself. “It’s not really something I can explain to you over a dance.”
Thinning her lips and raising an eyebrow, Kathelind returned fire, “Why mention it at all, then? Especially on Flaming Eve, Cal. You could have just stopped by the library.”
“As good as a time as any.” He said unconvincingly. “Meet me sometime later tonight and we can discuss in more detail. It’ll give you a chance to escape the crowds, at the very least.”
Kathelind didn’t buy his reply, but he had a point about escaping crowds that she just couldn’t ignore. “We’ll meet up here, before the flaming, and we can escape to the astronomy tower. I’ve been wanting to view the ceremony from up there since my first flaming, but I have never been able to find an excuse to get away from the crowds, until now, that is.”
“And they call me reclusive.”
She shot him an indignant scowl. “You are reclusive.”
“At least I stomach the gentry.” He countered.
“Yes well, the men aren’t all slobbering over you for your hand in marriage.”
He chuckled lightly at her comment. “I can’t say I envy your position, Kate. You’ll find someone, though. Fear not.”
Rolling her eyes, she debated that point. “At the rate I’m going, I doubt it. Perhaps I should have entertained that Hamelin fellow. He seemed decent enough.”
“He’s a milksop.”
She giggled at his assertion. “Cal, it’s hardly polite to go around calling the noblemen of Farlond milksops.”
Deadpan, he repeated the sentiment. “Well, he is.”
Smiling at him, Kathelin appreciated his dry humor. She wasn’t quite sure what had brought it on recently, why he was being so agreeable that evening, but she figured she might as well appreciate it while she could. He’d probably be back to brooding the next time she found him sulking about her library.
Shrugging, Kathelind mused, “Maybe a milksop would do me good, eh? I could order him around, instead of being ordered around, for a change.”
The archmage raised an eyebrow. “You think you would be happy with a weak-willed man?”
“No.” She sighed, conversation about to take a somber turn. “I don’t think I can be happy with any man.”
Calham said nothing in response, instead regarding her with impassive eyes.
Slowly, the music diminished to a close, and Kathelind stepped away from the mage, eyes cast to the ground as she bid a temporary farewell.

Kathelin met the mage sometime later, Calham once again saving her from having to converse with bothersome noblemen. She took his arm gently as they walked out the dancing hall into one of the palace corridors, steering away from the crowd that was beginning to gather in the courtyard around Aeschine.
“You couldn’t have come any sooner, Cal, I will say.” She commented as they made their way to the astronomy tower. “Those noblemen are becoming incessant. I was about to leave without you.”
“I don’t blame you.” He nearly growled. “I swear if I get asked one more question about the flaming war, I’ll set the bloody roof on fire.”
“I’d rather that than being flirted with by hapless barons.” She groaned, leading them towards the grand stairs. “Men have no clue, do they?”
“No, I don’t suppose that they do.” He replied, eyes dead ahead.
“So,” She started, wary of the quiet between them as they walked along desolate hallways. “What is it you wanted to discuss?”
“That is…” He inhaled deeply, then sighed, almost as if he didn’t want to bring it up at all. Opening the door to the astronomy tower stairs, he said, coolly, “Well, I’ll tell you when we reach the top.”
Anxious now that he was keeping her waiting, Kathelind climbed the steps with all the vigor only a young woman could muster. She stepped into the tower a minute later, breathing heavily, but decidedly appreciative of the view before her. Below glowed Aeschine in all of its magnificence, a whole force of people gathered around for the flaming ceremony. The best thing about the Astronomy tower was not, however, it’s view, spectacular though it might be. The best thing was the silence.
Calham, being the inopportune archmage that he was, interrupted that.
“Kathelind,” He started, firmly. “I think we should get married.”
She thought she’d misheard him at first. Married? Thoughts of marriage were for frivolous dandies to think of, men without anything better to do than to grab for power. Calham had power, and status. Sure he didn’t have a duchy, but what did Calham care for a duchy? He was solely in charge of the Mages’ Guild; that was more than enough responsibility for any man. So the question was, what was Calham doing suggesting a thing like marriage?
“I beg your pardon?” She turned on him almost immediately, eyes inquisitive.
“Listen to me, Kate.” He crossed his arms defensively. “I am no threat to your seat on the council, and you know as well as I do that I don’t give a damn about running a duchy.”
“Yes, yes, I’m very well aware of this. Marrying you would be an exceptionally smart move on my part.” She cocked her head questioningly. “What I don’t understand is why you want to marry me?”
“In the library, you had asked what you could extract from me in exchange for access to your library.” He said as if that was an appropriate explanation. “Now you know.”
“Hardly, Calham.” She turned back to the window, watching as the citizens sang a somber hymn, waiting for the leaf to fall. “My father always told me to be suspicious of favorable business deals. Marriage in exchange for library usage has to be the most ludicrous offer I’ve ever heard.”
“So what’s the matter then?” He wanted to know, deep voice almost angry. “If it’s so in your favor, why aren’t you saying yes?”
“Well, firstly, I’m not saying yes because you haven’t actually asked a question.” She argued. “You said ‘We should get married,’ not ‘Will you marry me, Kathelind?’”
In an effort to rectify the situation, Calham asked, in the least romantic tone possible, “Will you marry me, Kathelind?”
“I, well…” She trailed off, temporarily mesmerised by the bright shock of light as the leaf fell from Aeschine. Turning back towards Calham, she came face to face with what had to be the grimmest expression she’d ever seen him don. And that was saying something, because grim expressions were something of a specialty where Calham was concerned. “What are you getting out of it, Cal? You want to marry me for another reason besides the library, I can tell.”
“I don’t want to rule your duchy, nor do I want to take your seat.” He deflected, eyes harder than stone. “I’m not trying to take away the power your father worked so hard to bestow you with. Isn’t that enough?”
Kathelind believed him, which begged the question, was it enough? Calham was likely the best offer she’d ever receive. Getting him approved by the council was a different beast entirely, but even then the archmage had a leg up on most; he could, after all, vote for himself.
“Won’t you just tell me?” She asked, unwilling to surrender so easily, although she knew she would probably accept his proposal regardless of his answer.
“No.” Was all he replied with.
“But there is something else, isn’t there?” She pressed.
“Yes, Kathelind.” He sighed, clearly annoyed by her persistence. “Of course there’s something else I’ll gain from marrying you, something other than the library.” He added, for clarification, “It doesn’t concern you.”
“If it’s something you’ll get from marrying me, I rather think it does concern me.” She countered.
Rubbing his forehead, the archmage inhaled before saying, “Look, Kathelind, this is my proposal. Marry me and your vote and duchy will be safe. Do you accept or not?”
Scoffing, Kathelind crossed her arms. Such a disagreeable man. “Well, yes, I’ll marry you. Can’t very well say no, can I?”
The expression that formed on Calham’s face was different than any she’d ever before seen on the man. If Kathelind wasn’t mistaken, the archmage was smirking. “And to think all those hapless noblemen thought they stood a chance.”
“They didn’t stand a chance even before you came along. Don’t flatter yourself.” She shot him a glare before turning her gaze back to the crowd in the courtyard. The leaf of Aeschine was currently up in flames, burning slowly, as they always did. “I don’t suppose the dukes will like to hear of this in the least. Even the ones who did like my father.”
“Whithan’s pretty desperate for your economic help.” Calham reasoned. “You might be surprised.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.” She grumbled, mind solely focused on politics. “We can probably get the king on our side, holds both of us in good esteem, he does.”
Calham hummed lowly in agreement.
“Which leaves the question,” She continued, “Who’s the fourth vote?”
“If not Whithan, then Havedon.” The archmage state simply.
“Havedon?”
“Sure. Like myself, he doesn’t care much for political games. The more neutral the council stays, the happier he is. I’m nothing if not a neutral choice. It’s why the dukes won’t like me, after all.”
“That and they’ll see it as you having access to two votes.”
“That’s silly.” Calham protested. “I don’t think I could usurp your vote even if I wanted to.”
Shooting him a wicked smile, she affirmed, “No, I don’t think that you could.”
A moment of silence passed between as she turned back to the window. The ceremony was nearly over. They’d sent the leaf off to the river the next morning, in a funeral service of sorts. Fewer people attended that than they did Flaming Eve, but Kathelind, of course, would still be required to attend.
“I’ll speak with Havedon, then.” She said passively.
“I already have.”
“What? But I just said yes!” She exclaimed. “How could you have had that conversation before I said yes?”
“I told Havedon you’d likely accept my proposal.”
Kathelind rolled her eyes. “Havedon must have though you quite the smug one.”
“He did.” Calham replied in a manner that suggested he was shrugging when he said it. “But I explained it to him and he understood my confidence. He likes you, you know.”
“Of course he does.” She folded her arms assuredly. “I’m not incompetent and petty, unlike many of my other peers.”
The archmage chuckled quietly. “That’s pretty much what he said.”
“So, I have two more questions, before I let you go.” She glanced at him. He stood rigid and stoic as ever. Was that man ever at ease? “Firstly, when do we ask the king for his blessing, and secondly, where’s my engagement present?”
“I already scheduled a meeting with the king tomorrow afternoon.” He explained coolly. “He thinks I want to discuss business about the Mages’ Guild, but I don’t think he’ll mind too much to hear about our engagement instead.”
“Wow, you didn’t have a lick of doubt about me saying yes, did you?” She eyed, more than a little annoyed he’d been able to read her so well.
“Every man has his doubts.” Was all he said in response to that question. After sticking his hand into his coat pocket and drawing something from it, he bestowed her with a small box. “Your present.”
Kathelind pulled from the box what had to be the most exquisite necklace she’d ever laid eyes on. It was a diamond cut in the shape of a teardrop, but unlike any other diamond, a liquid fire seemed to glow inside. When she had pulled out the necklace, the color had been a unsettling orange, but after regarding it for a second, it transformed into a calming sky blue.
“It’s gorgeous.” She murmured, mostly to herself. Calham had already proved himself far self-assured for his own good; he didn’t need any further encouragement. Coolly, she added, “I suppose marrying a mage does have its benefits.”
“Any rich nobleman could have requested a mage imbue it with such a spell.” He said in what was an odd way of expressing modesty.
“What if you hadn’t caught hold of me tonight, eh, Cal?” She asked as she unclasped the diamond necklace she was currently wearing in order to replace it with her newer, far superior one. “What would you tell the king?”
“I guess then I’d have to talk to him about guild business.” He afforded himself a soft chuckle. “Thanks for saving me from that.”
“Anything for my beloved betrothed.” She replied teasingly.
The archmage rolled his eyes, something that usually made Kathelind giggle, but this time only made her smile in silent appreciation as she determined that she’d made the right decision in accepting his proposal. For perhaps the first time in two months, Kathelind found her heart settling into the strange feeling she vaguely recognized to be peace.
A small tear drew from her eye and crawled slowly down her cheek until her hand wiped the poor droplet away.
“Are you alright, Kathelind?” Calham asked in a concerned voice.
“Oh, yes, I mean, yes.” She smiled at him reassuringly. While Kathelind was never entirely sure if the mage believed what she said next, she felt it bore saying, regardless. “I’m happy, Cal. Just happy.”