Chương 39: Visitation

Do you know what's awesome about living in a cell? Most visitors are not allowed inside of it. The maids, the doctor, occasional repairs or deliveries, and that's about it. Other than that, I have the space to myself. So, when Gedes waved Yheta in to visit me, there was a barrier of tempered glass between us. I mean, this is a fantasy setting. It's not bulletproof glass or anything. But crossbow proof, sure. Crossbow-proof glass.

The barrier between us was half polished glass and half engraved wood, relief carvings in the wooden pilings that spiraled up from floor to ceiling, elegant and understated. They lent strength to the barrier, but also looked quite decorative, like the trellis of an outdoor cafe. The bottom half of the wall was wooden paneled and carved with relief images of pastoral scenes, hilltop picnics and lazy lanes.

At waist height was a countertop on both sides, for setting down a cup of tea or some papers while we chat contentedly through the glass barricade. And I gotta say, my chats are a lot more contented now that he can't grab me and drag me around.

"Good evening Lord Snairlin," I said, dropping a curtsy for him.

"I do appreciate all your help today." He put a hand to his heart, and gave a sweeping, magnanimous bow from the waist.

"I think any gentleman of repute would have done the same in my place," he said with a false humility that felt like sand in my teeth.

"I regret that I was not in place to shield you from that first attack, but I could at least use my body to protect you from any further harm." Oh. He had been laying on top of me while I was knocked out. Gross. I held my smile while he straightened up.

"Have you eaten? I'm certain Gedes could bring something."

"I stopped at a local eatery for some lunch. I was rather concerned what I might find passing for food in what is, after all, the Hearstcliff prison system." He paused, and really examined my quarters. With his hands folded behind his back he pivoted around to examine all angles. I saw his brows wrinkle thoughtfully.

"I must say I did misjudge the conditions. I expected something rather..."

"Oh, they've got plenty of that too," I said, with a wry half-smile.

"My first port of call here at this facility was rather more what you had imagined. I was sent to these finer appointments after.. pressure was applied."

"Ah," he said with a wink, and then tapped the side of his nose. God knows what he thought I meant by that.

"I must say I was gratified to get your request, to assist with your legal proceedings. There was no way for me to attend without your intervention. I had tried to make time to come visit but the Academy is rather restrictive; exit passes are hard to come by, your subpoena opened doors for me to come see you in person. Though, obviously, I was rather surprised how I found you! That was your plan, yes, that I would not recognize you at first?"

"It was," I said, straightening my skirts. I gestured and a chair flew over to me lifted by sorcerous power, settling behind me for me to sit. I folded my hands in my lap, one glove over the other. Crinoline crinkled.

"The prosecution's case was starting to rest on the idea that I had started the fire, so I needed evidence that I had worked hard to save people from that fire, which disproves their theory. The best evidence of that is that I nearly died in the attempt, and the evidence of that is that I've been... discolored." Yheta gave me a broad smile.

"I find it rather fetching, now that I've gotten used to it. You look rather more refined, and delicate." He means weak and fragile. When I was red and tan I looked stubborn and proud, now I look like a literally washed-out version of myself. Of course he likes me better when I look drained and pale. Creep.

"Kind of you to say," I said to the creep, inclining my head. Etiquette is a well-trained instinct now. And he did take time out of his day to help me as a witness today at the trial. A little time and kindness on my part mean the world to him, thanks to his obsession. And I've got almost unlimited time. My kindness is more finite.

"Did you really almost die?" he asked, looking a little concerned now. That thought was clearly troubling him.

"I hate to think you went through all that while I was away at school." -He said, as if he was a constant fixture in my life who had only briefly turned his attention away when I got in trouble.

"Yes. I manipulated a dangerous essence and pushed myself way too hard. I managed to save several lives, but I survived by the narrowest margin- it took six days for the healer to restore me. Nobody will tell me the exact nature of my injuries, but most people that saw them have screaming nightmares about it so I'm best off not knowing." I said all that with the sweetest placid smile as if I was not alluding to traumatic body horror.

He paled a bit himself, and finally moved over and sat in the chair across from me, separated by glass. Even now that he was not standing, he was still noticeably higher than I was. Shorter than Nathan, taller than me. Yheta was not actually the only person I knew at Hearstcliff. Both Taeril and Geland were here at Academy as well. But Geland, unlike Yheta, would have correctly identified me: he's slow to speak but very observant.

And Taeril would have derailed the proceedings: I've seen her at public events and she's a little bit of a showboat. Since my freedom and my life could depend on me being the biggest showboat there, I couldn't risk it. Besides, both of their families were allies to my family. Even though my father is liege lord to his father, Yheta's family and mine are not considered allies, we're just polite.

He belongs to a lesser house that is not part of any of the same factions as my House, and the Greater House he answers to is also not part of any of the same factions as my family's House. On paper, there is no allegiance or loyalty between him and me, and someone would have to travel all the way to Meadowtam to find any record that says otherwise. And even then, the allegiance is purely personal, and nothing that would interest the House politics of the capitol.

"So do you think it worked?" he asked.

"That we got you off the charges?"

"I have asked those with more experience, and the best answer is 'it is too soon to tell'. The other answers are all likely to be wrong."

"I can reach out to my family," he said.

"We may be able to provide you some allies if you need them. It couldn't hurt to ask, but I wanted to speak to you before I brought this to anyone else. And, possibly, even take this to our sponsor House. Aumerje is a Central House, and well established in the capitol, they would certainly be able to see you free. A friendly voice within the Council..." It absolutely could hurt to ask. I toyed with my hair while I considered.

"Aumerje would probably ask a lot in exchange for their help. A lot that I am not in a position to promise at this time. I cannot make a request for help until I know that I will be able to repay the debt. We can hold that option in reserve, yes?"

"In reserve? What, until you're of age?!"

"If necessary," I said.

"Fifteen is not so very far away."

"Nearly three years!" I groaned.

"Yeah. I hate the idea of it. But potentially a lot longer than that. It's the not knowing that is screwing me up. Will I be free to go next week? Next year? Ten years? Never? I just... I just want to discuss something other than trials, prison, charges, and prosecution. Yheta, tell me about yourself. Or your schooling, or whatever."

"You're asking about me?" he said, and sounded suspicious for the first time I've ever heard. I don't think many people express interest in his thoughts and inner workings.

"Yeah, I am," I said, slouching a bit.

"Today is literally the first time we've ever been in each other's presence that wasn't at a society function with at least a hundred other people in attendance. What I know about you would fit on a greeting card." He chewed his lip.

"Um, all right. I enjoy sport, especially rowing and sailing. When I was younger I wanted to be a warrior adventurer, but I was never able to supply mana. My favorite color is brown, and people make fun of me for saying that but it's okay. I've tried to get your Oddball game organized at the Academy but it's very slow going. I once snuck out of the house for four months so I could go to town and learn to make and set stained glass for church windows. And, I have a safe but embarrassing allergy to shellfish."

"See? That's a good start," I said.

"Why stained glass?" He shrugged.

"I thought it looked pretty. I'm not really an artist, not like Geland. I can neither paint nor draw, and I suspect that I'm tone-deaf. But measuring and cutting pieces of glass, and measuring pigments to heat for specific amounts of time, that's easy. It's just a matter of following instructions. And then you lay them out and press lead into the panes, and it's done. You can remove part and reshape it if you need to, and you only put it up when it looks perfect.

There's not years worth of bad drawings or amateurish paintings, you just keep molding until it's just how you like. And then everyone thinks you did it on your first try, and it's important and beautiful and it's up in public and people are reminded about your work every time the sun comes through. It's great art that is really easy to do." I nodded.

"All right, but I think you're underestimating yourself. A lot of the same skills that go into glass-setting are also part of drawing and painting both. Finding proportions, angles, and composition is just as meaningful in glass as in charcoal. If you don't have an eye for figures, you'll never get far in either one. Were you any good at the glass-setting?"

"I only practiced for four months," he said with too much nonchalance.

"And most of that was just learning the dyes and the pours and the materials. I did not do a lot of the artistic side."

"So why stop?"

"My mother found out that I was not attending my riding lessons, and I got an earful," he sighed.

"It seemed like a very restful hobby. Quiet and easy and a good way to just distract myself while I thought about things."

"My mother speaks that way about looming and weaving," I said.

"Restful and relaxing. She also tries hard to make me like riding more than I do."

"You don't like riding?" he asked cautiously.

"Not overly much, no," I said.

"I can't really point at any one specific thing. They just move at a different rhythm than I do." Yheta wrinkled his nose.

"I just can't stand the smell. Nobody thinks I'm strange for avoiding livestock and swine-pens, but if I say that I don't like the smell of the stables people act like I don't like babies."

"I thought you also did not like babies."

"I don't, no. That's another way to make people look at you like that." I gestured vaguely.

"Everyone in my family loves riding all the time. Nathan makes excuses to ride to neighboring towns. He loved acting as the mail courier before our parents made me take over all mail duties for the duchy. Mother will spend half her day on a horse and already be planning to do the same tomorrow. Father only rides when he wants to gallop, hunt, race or jump the horses, but that's a lot. I'm not anti-horse or anti-riding, I just think I like it a normal amount."

"Good thing then, considering," he waved at our surroundings.

"No shit," I grumbled.

"Of all my family I'm probably best-adapted to this."

"I've never heard you swear."

"I don't normally do it at formal events. We only ever see each other at formal events." He mused that over, staring up at the ceiling.

"You're not really all that formal on your own?"

"I'm more formal than most," I admitted.

"I'm not good at relaxing, and I'm kind of high-strung. I spend most of my life very aware of being watched and judged. I think it comes from attracting so much attention at a young age." Look, back in the 21st century I was a chill-ass slacker. But now that I'm frickin' nobility that's gotta change. And it's hard to teach myself to be only a little bit dignified. So, maybe I'm a bit uptight. Even stuck-up.

I'd like to think I'm not, but I get a lot more "good evening" than "what's up", and a lot more "how kind of you" than "hell yeah".

"You did attract a lot of attention early on," he agreed.

"And you still are. Maybe you just like being in the spotlight?" Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I wouldn't have chosen a trial, I assure you."

"I suppose not," he said. Silent for a long minute.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Don't have one," I said.

"Any color can look good in the right context. If I had a favorite color it just means I've got a favorite context." He looked around for something to throw, and tossed a balled-up handkerchief at the window. It bounced off.

"No fun. You're really very literal aren't you?"

"If I choose to be too figurative it will definitely cause problems," I said.

"So I err in the other direction." He was silent for a minute.

"Gods, I thought I never switch off."

"You have a lot of friends at the Academy?"

"Lady Natalie, I do not," he said.

"I'm always busy studying, and I've only got an hour a day of free time. I don't think there is a single person who is in more than one of my classes, so I don't even have any familiar faces to get comfortable with. I'm isolated all the time, barely even get small talk to distract myself at all. Complete torture, it's almost half as bad as living with my parents." I sat up to get a better look at his face.

"Really? I always thought they were such warm and open people! Is it really that different at home?" He waved vaguely.

"Everyone but me. I got selected by Uncle Lewot early, I'm supposed to inherit his job and leave the presiding to my sister. And anything that has to do with Lewot or the merchant Snairlins is a dead subject with my parents. As of the day he indicated interest in me, my parents don't have a son."

"That's terrible." He shrugged.

"Best way out of that is for me to marry up. If I can secure a higher station, they'll keep me in the aristocrat branch of the family and I can try mending fences with my folks. But to progress from a count, I'd need an earl or duchess."

"And so you've pursued me."

"Nah. I think I've always liked you. My old governess mentioned that when I was a toddler I already had a crush on you. If you weren't the same person I'd be extremely conflicted as to whether I should propose to Natalie or the Duchess Harigold. The fact that both are the same just makes my decision easier."

"Yheta..."

"You're too young," he recited. His voice sounded tired as he repeated the usual objections.

"You don't get to make your own decisions. Duty to the family. I know. Parents have first and last say. I understand, I've got Lewot Snairlin. But. I've got a couple years yet before I need to make firm decisions. And maybe I'll grow on you. No harm in trying, I suppose." He stared at his hands as if there was going to be a test.

"All the same reasons... You can't agree to anything because your parents make the decisions. But in the same way, you can't actually promise me that I don't have a chance. So like yourself, I sit in limbo, waiting to learn my fate. You should have your answer within a week." He left that hanging, but the insinuation was there: I would know my fate within a week, he would have his probably when I was nineteen- seven years from now. Until then he also was in a limbo.

I watched him, and for once he wasn't looking at me. I decided to say what was on my mind, despite it being a little risky.

"I am actually surprised that you're being so reasonable about this. Normally you're more single-minded. Dead-set against even allowing an answer of no."

"Blame the locks and bars and windows," he said, reaching over to tap the glass with one knuckle.

"I'd be sitting much closer to you if it were not for them, and acting appropriately. With the window between, I can either sit and talk this through like my heart isn't racing a mile a minute, or I could give in and rub against these pillars like a dog on a table leg."

"Gods what a fucking thing to say." He shrugged.

"I've learned to never be shy with my feelings. Especially the extreme ones. Maybe I make a fool of myself. Maybe even drive people off. But nobody is ever going to see me decide to stop loving someone because it became inconvenient." Goddammit Yheta has a tragic backstory and a relatable personality.

"Or," he said absently, "ever stop hating someone before I'm ready to be done." There it is.