A Magic of Dawn

Jan ca’Ostheim

“The young woman on our personal staff named Rhianna,” Jan said to Rance. “What do we know about her?”

The aide raised a single eyebrow. He had just brought in Jan’s daily calendar of meetings, going over the plans for the day-it was, as always of late, too crowded and full. It was one of those days when Jan felt the weight of his responsibilities; it was one of those days that he felt old before his time; it was one of the days when he felt restless and trapped.

But the young woman… He had thought of her more than once since their encounter, and he found himself looking for her when he entered a room. There was often a faint smile on her face whenever she saw him, though she never broke propriety, never tried to approach him or talk to him, but concentrated on her work and left when it was finished.

He liked that. She knew her place. It boded well.

“She’s from Sesemora,” Rance told him, “though she has very little of the awful accent, thankfully. She had excellent references from the ca’Ceila and ca’Nemora families. She takes direction well and works hard. I could use a dozen more servants who perform as well as she does. And,” he added, “she’s not difficult to look at, as I’m sure the Hirzg has noticed.”

“I had, in fact,” Jan said. This was a dance that he and Rance had performed more than once over the years, and they both knew the steps.

“Would the Hirzg prefer that I assign her to your personal quarters?”

“That might be good. She seems an excellent fit.”

“Then I’ll do that,” Rance said. “I’ve heard whispers that the Hirzgin thought Felicia was rather short with her last week; Rhianna might make a good replacement. I’ll have the change made today.”

Jan shrugged. “Whatever you think best, Rance. It’s your staff to run. I’ll leave it to you. Now, is there something we can do about the audience with the A’Gyula? Perhaps the Hirzgin could see him. He’s such a tedious boor…”

“Good night, children…” Jan kissed each of them in turn: Elissa, Kriege, Caelor, and little Eria. He nodded to the nursemaid, and she began to shepherd the children out of the room. Elissa hung behind stubbornly, a fierce scowl on her face. “I should be allowed to be at the ball tonight,” she said. “I’m not even the least bit sleepy, Vatarh.”

“Next year,” he told her.

“Next year isn’t until forever, ” she answered, with an emphatic stamp of her foot.

Jan heard Brie snicker. He was sitting in the chair at Brie’s bedroom desk. She stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder. She wore only her shift, her hair unpinned and her jewelry on the dressing table. Jan could smell the perfume she’d just applied as she leaned down close to his ear. “She’s your daughter,” Brie whispered. “I hear you in her voice.”

Jan smiled. He gestured to Elissa to come to him. She did so, with a dramatic pout on her face. “If I say that you can attend the ball, then I’m going to have Kriege saying he should be allowed to be there, too.”

“Kriege’s only nine,” Elissa answered. “He’s practically a baby. I’m eleven. Nearly twelve.”

Jan felt Brie’s fingers tighten on his shoulder. He grinned. “I know,” he told her. “I’ll tell you what. If you go with the others now, I’ll have the nursemaid get you up and dressed in a turn of the glass, and you can come down to the ball for a bit. But you mustn’t let your brothers know.”

Elissa beamed and clapped her hands once together, then dropped them to her sides, putting a comically solemn look on her face. “Yes, Vatarh,” she said loudly, for the benefit of her brothers, still in the doorway with the maid. “I’ll just go on to bed, then.” Impulsively, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, then her matarh’s. “Goodnight, Vatarh, Matarh.”

She pattered off with her siblings. Jan watched them leave, a helpless smile on his face. “If we were artists, we could not have created anything more beautiful than our children,” Brie said.

“I would agree,” Jan said. He turned in the chair to face her, his hands going to her hips-he could see the years and the costs of bearing the children in her body: she was no longer the slim, smooth beauty he’d married. Her body had widened and thickened over the years, lines had invaded her face, and the skin under her chin sagged. Her stomach was paunched, her breasts larger and heavier.

He had changed as well, he knew, but change was easier to see in others. He stroked the well-rounded flanks of her body, and she smiled down at him, pressing closer to him. “There’s still time,” she said. “I could have that new girl-what’s her name? Rhianna?-help me dress quickly. If you’d like…”

She leaned down. Her lips were still soft, still yielding, and after a moment he lost himself in the kiss. Her hands cupped his head, brought him up standing without breaking the embrace, then hugged him fiercely. As one, as if in a slow, passionate dance, they moved to the bed. Brie fell onto its cool softness and he allowed her to pull him down on top of her. He kissed her this time, a kiss that was harder and more insistent, and her hands moved lower on his body as he lifted the hem of her shift.

Afterward, they lay together in the tangled sheets. She smiled at Jan, her hand caressing his cheeks and brushing the hair back from his face, and he traced the line of her breasts, circling the aureoles with a forefinger and watching the sensitive skin respond. “That was nice,” he said to her.

“Yes.” She kissed him again-only a brush of lips this time. “Perhaps we’ll have created something new again.”

“Perhaps,” he told her, and he smiled though in truth he felt nothing at the thought. Children he had-those he could acknowledge and those he didn’t know at all, fathered on the occasional paramour who had to be sent away with a pouch of gold solas as a memory. Like Mavel cu’Kella.

“Sergei should be back in Nessantico today or tomorrow,” she said.

He laughed. “Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking. The children… It might be nice if they knew their great-matarh. Really knew her.”

Jan grunted wordlessly. His hand stopped moving, resting on her abdomen.

“Do you think she’ll agree to what you asked? Do you think Sergei can convince her to name you A’Kralj?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Besides, Rance would tell me that’s what I want anyway, that it’s not good for Brezno.” That was no more than the truth. He didn’t know. Part of him agreed with Rance and wanted her to refuse, so that he would have an excuse to move against her. And part of him… Yes, part of him hoped she would agree, hoped that they might reconcile.

He just wasn’t sure which part was the stronger.

“The choice is Matarh’s,” he said. “It’s out of my hands now. I’ve made the offer; she can take it or not.”

“I hope she does,” Brie said. “It’s time. A family should not be so estranged.” She kissed him again, and rolled away from him. She glanced at the large sand-clock on the desk. “You should go back to your own room and get dressed,” she said. “We don’t have much time. I’ll call the hall attendant to fetch Rhianna and send someone to help you…”

She slid her shift and robe over her body and padded toward the hall door. Jan watched her, then pulled on his own clothes as she opened the door and called out softly to the hall servant there. Jan stood; Brie came back and hugged him.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Go on,” Brie told him. He went to the rear door that led to his own bedroom but stood there with his hand on the knob. Rhianna opened the door and slipped into the room. She curtsied to Brie.

“You wish help dressing, Hirzgin?” she said. She noticed Jan at his door; he thought she smiled faintly then in his direction, but she returned her attention quickly to Brie and didn’t look toward him again. “Here, let me get these under-lacings for you…”

He opened the door and left the bedroom. He smiled, though he wasn’t certain why.