Information

Celis has a minion!

Lady the Blue Jay

Celis
Legacy Name: Elery

The

Aqua Scootle
Owner:

Pureflower

Age: 8 years, 6 months, 3 weeks

Born: June 23rd, 2016

Adopted: 8 years, 6 months, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: June 23rd, 2016

Pet Spotlight Winner
January 9th

Statistics

Level: 33
Strength: 47
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 218
Books Read: 195
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Jeweler

A Lady of Class

"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?"

Celis stuck her tongue out at her younger cousin. "I was not. I was just...pondering which flowers to use as a centerpiece at the Alphan's Ball."

"You're a lousy liar, Cel. That moonbeam look on your face totally gives you away." Azala clipped a few dead leaves from her prized potted emerald fern. "I just don't get what you see in him. He's so stiff and formal all the time."

Azala hadn't seen Daron with the ducklings. He'd been in dress uniform, on his way to witness yet another of Voorik's parades. He'd paused a whole Guard column and crossed two lanes of traffic to see three panicked ducklings safely over the road and back to their mother.

That was only the beginning of her mountain-sized crush. She'd started to notice the little things, each more endearing than the last. The way he mopped up any mess he made rather than leaving it for the Palace servants. How he always snuck treats to his horse when his men weren't looking. How his eyes lingered at sunset, absorbing every last drop of color before the coming of night.

She wrote the first letter on a night when she couldn't sleep. The end result was so sickeningly sappy that she'd promptly fed it to the fire, one handful of confetti at a time.

The next was hastily scrawled as she swiped away tears. An irksome dance partner had made an insensitive comment about her ball gown. She'd poured out her frustrations, complaining that she hadn't become a Palace Lady to merely be a pretty trinket on the arm of some pompous Palace Lord. She had wanted to learn the workings of the Alphanship, to suggest a few of her ideas about how to make the world a better place. Planning parties and arranging flowers was fine but the color of the roses on the entry trellis would hardly make her name one to remember.

She'd thrown the second letter to the heart of the flames before she'd even filled the page.

It was the third letter that did her in.

She'd spent a weary half hour listening to Andretta gush about her soon-to-be-husband. How handsome he was. How rich he was. How incredibly skilled in the hunt.

She'd dropped the question that had caused a dozen painted mouths to drop...hastily hidden behind a wall of upraised fans.

"That's all well and fine but what's his favorite flavor of tea?"

Celis loved tea. She loved the smell of it. She loved the taste of it. She loved that warm, soothing smoothness sliding down her throat and banishing the daily anxieties of a Palace Lady's life.

Andretta floundered for a moment then cleared her throat. "Well...I really can't say I know. There's so much to do, you know. Planning the wedding and my regular duties, to say nothing of Tavlin's duties with the Alphan's Hunt. Besides, I rely on the servants to know such details. Else why have servants?"

Gentle chuckles and an exchange of looks that said she's too young to know better. Celis hated their pointed looks. Her mother exhaled ever so softly in a breezy sigh that said daughter, you disappoint me.

She'd excused herself at the first polite opportunity.

The letter flowed from the tip of her quill, almost as if a ghost were writing it.

Dear Captain Daron,

If you could see into my heart and read all the conversations we've had in my mind, I know you would not question whether I am sane when I pose these questions to you.

What's your favorite flavor of tea? Do you remember that time when you halted an entire column to protect three little ducklings? Do you have any idea how lovely your voice sounds when you sing? You'd put the whole Unit to shame if only you weren't so shy.

Who am I to criticize? I can't even work up the courage to speak to you face-to-face.

If I could only ask one question though, it would be this. What must a woman do to heal the wound on your heart and earn the white rose of courtship? I see the way you glance up at the moon when you're on duty at the North Wall. I do not know who you see but I know you long to be with her though she is far from your sight.

She is a lucky woman to have won the love of a man like you and a fool not to claim her place beside you as your bride.

~Celis

She put the letter in an envelope and wrote Daron's name. It was a silly, romantic gesture that would mean nothing once she also tossed this one to the fire. It was a lovely thought that the smoke would somehow carry across the courtyard and touch Daron in some way, causing him to finally notice her at one of the endless Alphan's Balls. A fool's dream, that's all it was.

Her maid rushed into the room, breathing hard. "Tauren Masterson...he's escaped! They say his lady love spirited him away from the execution block to some far distant shore. I thought it was all stuff and nonsense but I've just seen the Alphan returning and he looks fit to burn whole cities to the ground with those evil eyes of his."

Celis hurried from the room to confer with the other Ladies, not noticing the letter that fell to the carpet. Her maid had a sharper eye and plucked it up, placing it in the hand of the next Messenger she saw for delivery.

*****

The ball still took place, though it was a somber occasion. No point wasting all the gold spent and foods prepared. Toasts were made to Voorik, despite his absence.

Celis hadn't been this nervous for a ball since her debut ten years ago. Her eyes darted from one perfumed and pampered guest to the next. Their mockery would start out subtle and grow more pronounced as drinks flowed. The daughter of the Premier Palace Lady with a mere Guardsman. What a droll concept. What a scandal!

She did a double-take when her dance card was presented for her inspection.

Captain Daron had claimed the first and last slots.

They fell naturally into the rhythm of the dance. He complimented her hair, her gown, her skills as a dancer. Cordial talk, easily deflected...or accepted. It was as the song neared its end that he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Chamomile. I find the taste soothing...and I do remember the ducklings."

She never could remember the names and faces of her other dance partners on that night. She took no notice of the hors d’oeuvres that passed her lips. She half-expected Daron to get some urgent call and vanish, proving that first dance had only been another hopeless dream. She tracked him with her eyes. He politely declined every woman who approached though he showed no signs of making his usual excuses in order to escape.

Most of the older courtiers had retired by the midnight hour. Celis was a long way from tired when Daron took her hand to lead her through the second dance.

It was a slower song. Sweeter.

"I don't know that I'll ever stop loving her completely...but she was never really mine."

Their gazes locked as he tucked a present into her neatly piled curls. His kiss was brief, unsure and over far too soon.

She seemed to float to her room, the music and Daron's rich voice still ringing in her ears. She paused to look at her reflection in the mirror, to see what Daron had given her.

A single white rose in full bloom.