Chapter Eight - Personal Goddesses

"Would you mind if I sat here?"

Cythera glanced up, startled. Even more startling was the identity of her companion; the Prince's other cousin. "Oh, yes, certainly, your Grace." She couldn't think what he'd want with somebody like her, and shifted uncomfortably away from him.

Roger took the seat and remained in thoughtful silence. She fancied he was considering the trail of ivy across the arm of the bench, or the peek of the evening sky that was visible beyond the network of roses above. These were not, however, topics he chose to bring up. "I have heard that you are somewhat infatuated with my younger cousin, and he with you." He arched an eyebrow at her, inviting her to share a joke she didn't understand. Not certain how much laughter the comment warranted, she settled for a weak smile. "I cannot help but notice that he is in there-" he gestured toward the building - "and you are all alone out here." He turned to her, his tone earnest. "Did you have a lover's quarrel?"

Cythera turned a brilliant red and hoped the dark night made it less noticeable. "N- n- no," she stammered, seeming to have lost control of her tongue. "It's - it's not like that. The Prince and I - we are - acquaintances. Friendly acquaintances."

He gave her a charming smile, which relaxed her, though she was inexplicably drawn to his eyes. Something in his eyes, that she couldn't quite pinpoint, reminded her of Alan. He was being too bold, and she wanted to tell him that, but she... couldn't.

The look in his eyes intensified. "I apologise if I seem rude, Lady Cythera, my cousin is very secretive, and I simply wished to introduce myself to the object of his affections."

"I appreciate the - the sentiment, your Grace, but I am his dance partner only. Occasionally."

She couldn't tell if this information pleased or displeased the Duke. He was a very closed person, but nevertheless charming. "And what do you think of your occasional dance partner, if you don't mind me asking?"

In a curious way, Cythera didn't mind. She rubbed her hands together, and considered his question. As she thought, she came to realise that Prince Jonathan was a very closed person, remembering all those moments he had drawn back from her, how he had never told her how he felt, and why he had just abruptly stopped dancing with the Lady Delia. Such a contrast to his captivating, open cousin. "I think he's a wonderful prince," she said finally. "He's honest, and a good person."

"Ah, but a good prince and a good king are two different things," Roger pressed.

Cythera put her fingertips to her temples where she could feel a headache beginning, but still her eyes did not leave Roger's. "He will be a good king."

Roger looked almost disappointed, but a second later she swore she had imagined it. He stood and bowed to her, reaching for her hand and brushing his lips across it. "It has been a pleasure getting to know you, my lady."

She would never know what she had just escaped as the Duke re-entered the ballroom and gave his former squire a barely perceptible shake of his head.

Cythera was left looking at her hand, feeling strangely empty somehow as though something had just abandoned her.

"Ah, there she is."

She started, almost as though she had been in a trance, and looked up to find Squire Douglass and Duke Gareth looking down at her. "May I do something for you?" she enquired, wondering what she could have done to make so many prestigious people interested in her.

"Now there's a question I wouldn't mind answering," the plump boy said, winking at her.

Duke Gareth looked as though he was trying very hard to ignore Douglass' comment. "My son informed me that he'd invited you to Naxen."

Cythera wet her lips nervously. "Yes, he did."

"And has Naxen offended you in some way?"

"No, your Grace."

Duke Gareth regarded her carefully, folding his arms across his chest. "Then I must wonder why it is that you declined his invitation."

"Declined?" Cythera echoed, looking confused as though there were another word he might have meant to say instead. "I didn't decline it. I just-" She frowned, struggling to recall why she hadn't said yes. "I did not decline it, your Grace."

Douglass shrugged. "I don't think Naxen can take that kind of rejection," he said seriously. "It might begin crumbling away into nothingness now. Not that you'll be to blame, of course. Well. Not entirely to blame, shall we say?"

Duke Gareth gave him a dry look. "I thought we had agreed your role was not to talk."

"I'm sorry, your Grace. I'll try harder."

Cythera had spent enough of her life around people who talked far too much to know when to interrupt. "I am afraid I do not follow."

Duke Gareth sat down in Roger's vacated seat. "I received a letter from my mother this morning. She claims all my son Gareth has been doing is moping around at home, and I have evidently not been doing a good job bringing him up. She advises that I send him to fight on the Scanran border."

Cythera didn't particularly see what this had to do with her, but tried not to react to the idea that if Gary went north, she'd almost certainly be married by the time he was allowed to return.

"My wife, however, is convinced there's a girl involved." Duke Gareth's eyes were shrewd as they fixed on Cythera. "Would I be correct in assuming that you are the girl involved?"

Cythera cast her eyes down, embarrassed. Her first instinct was to say no; Gary hardly came near her, there was no way he could be attracted to her. But then, she considered what Alan had said, what the Prince had said, and the ice-skating incident. Hadn't he carried her across the pond? And he had invited her to Naxen as well. She pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering how she had wanted to kiss him.

And so, she made her decision.

But when she raised her eyes to meet the Duke's, she realised he had already known the answer to his question, and he had already known what her response would be.

She wondered why it was all so obvious to everybody else.

The Naxen castle was quiet, oh so quiet.

And then, a roar ripped through the near silence, a roar belonging to a boy who had entirely shaken up the relatively calm household with his first few visits and still had the capabilities to shock them frequently.

"GARY!"

Habitually, Gary groaned, although a part of him was very definitely relieved that his squire had arrived at last. He loved his mother (and maybe his grandmother as well), but he was too old for their meddling words to be useful anymore. He could make his own decisions, and he did not need their criticisms. And he did not need to be sent to Scanra. Having Douglass around would release some of the pressure on him.

He pulled open his door to find Douglass with a huge grin spread across his face.

"I'm very proud of you, my lord."

On second thoughts, he had preferred being alone. "Why?"

"Well, it's your day, isn't it? The sun rose for you this morning, the birds are singing your song, and the gods are smiling at you."

Gary rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, because the gods have chosen to bless me with your company."

"Yes. But not only that. Not only do you own the best squire in the kingdom - or you will do once I finally manage to bump Alan off - but today is the day that your prayers are answered. Today you will finally be able to put those niggling fears to rest, because your own personal goddess has arrived."

"You are not my personal goddess, Veldine."

"How right you are, sir. How absolutely and completely right you are. I am not your dove, your queen, the petals to your stem, the sheath to your sword."

Gary fixed Douglass with a look entirely reminiscent of his father's. "Douglass. What do you want?"

"What I want is of no consequence. But your grandmother feels deprived of your glorious presence and begs you to rectify the emptiness her life is filled with at this precise moment."

"I'll bet."

It was not with anguish or trepidation that Gary descended the stairs, though perhaps that was what he should have been feeling. Instead, he was feeling rather annoyed. No doubt his grandmother would have concocted some plan that would keep him from going riding this afternoon. Stifling a groan, he pushed open the door to the drawing room.

"Ah, Gareth. How nice of you to join us."

Gary barely managed a smile, though his upper lip was raised, so it turned out more like a sneer. His mother was seated primly in a chair to his left, and his grandmother to the right. Between them, though not facing Gary, there was a girl. She was undoubtably one of the neighbour's daughters who Grandmother thought was entirely suitable for Gary, but who really wanted to run away with their shepherd. Not that it was likely that would happen twice in a row.

"Douglass said you wanted me for something?"

"Yes. Douglass is such a nice boy," his grandmother said, addressing the ash blonde. "Have you met him?"

He entirely missed the girl's response, being preoccupied by mentally imagining what his grandmother would really think of Douglass if she could hear some of the things he came out with. It undid some of what he had endured since his arrival.

"You might ask him for some advice, Gareth. I think you could do with it, honestly, why are you dressed as if you were about to go riding rather than to meet your grandmother? And you can take that expression off your face. If you did things properly, I wouldn't need to tell you off!"

Gary privately thought that she would take any reason to reprimand him, no matter what. He sighed inwardly, trying not to move so that she would be finished with him as soon as possible.

"And I notice you haven't brought Johnny to see me for ages. I hear he's calmed down now, though, prefers to dance with just one woman a night these days. That's best for him, I think. Perhaps you could follow his example."

Oh, yes. Be more like Douglass and Jon, that was right. Pervert every conversation, disgust everyone, and then sleep with them. Why in the name of Mithros hadn't he thought of that? What woman wouldn't want him? Cythera wouldn't. Cythera who didn't want him anyway.

Gary's mouth tightened, before he decided he had to say something. He shouldn't be the only one who had to suffer. "Perhaps you could take a trip to the palace sometime? I'm sure Jonathan - and my father - would be absolutely delighted to see you, and I know how rarely you see either of them."

Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Traipse all the way down to the palace, just to see those rotten two, who'll have wind of my coming two weeks before I decide to, and then swan off to some Tusaine war?"

He bit his lip to prevent himself from smiling. Grandmother was convinced the Tusaine war had been invented so that Duke Gareth and Jon could both conveniently be out of the palace for the entire duration of her stay.

"I'm disappointed in you, Gary," the Duchess Roanna said coolly, speaking at last. "I notice you have completely ignored our guest."

Gary felt his face heat up, knowing that both Douglass and Jon would have instantly introduced themselves. He was acting exactly how his grandmother expected him to act. "My deepest apologies, my lady." He wondered whether she was going to turn, or whether he should cross the room.

"That's all right." The girl was standing and turning before he could place the voice to a name, and he knew her, he did, but what was she doing here? "I hope you don't mind me intruding."

He was about to say she was the best intrusion he had ever laid eyes on, but clamped his mouth shut, eyeing his mother warily.

"Lady Cythera arrived this morning, with that squire of yours," Roanna informed him. "I'm surprised he didn't tell you already."

She was not, he saw, very surprised; most likely she had ordered Douglass to keep silent, but he did not prolong the issue, and looked at Cythera instead, nervously.

Cythera smiled at him, but addressed his mother. "Sir Gareth and I have much to discuss. If your Grace does not object, we would like to find a place where we may talk in peace."

Roanna inclined her head. Gary's mind was still buzzing with what was happening, he felt his head hadn't quite caught up, and it was still full of that smile she had just given him. He dimly registered that she had slipped her hand into his and was leading him from the room.

They were seated on the stairs - not, perhaps the most private place, but he had insisted that his grandmother would most likely be hidden behind the tapestry in his room, and this was as safe a place as any.

She was feeling rather giddy about the whole thing. Before finally reaching the duchy this morning, she hadn't really thought about what she was doing, but then, Douglass had gone to great lengths to divert her on the journey. It had all been very easy, the Duke had rung for his carriage to be readied, Douglass had ridden alongside her, the Duchess could not have been more receptive, and then Gary had arrived, and she had wondered for the first time what he would think of it.

"You came to Naxen for me?" His voice cracked slightly on the emphasis, but she hardly noticed, her own voice not being entirely level either.

Cythera was now beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable. He was supposed to look at her lovingly and sweep her off her feet. Explaining herself hadn't really come into her fantasies about this moment. "Well, yes. Unless there's somebody else you'd rather I was here for," she answered, fiddling with her skirts.

Gary stilled the movement, taking her hands in his. She felt her stomach fizz pleasantly. "No, I think - I know I'd rather you were here for me."

She nodded.

He cleared his throat.

She waited.

"So - how was the journey?"

"You're not supposed to be talking so much," she burst out.

Gary looked entirely taken aback, and she lowered her eyes to examine their entwined hands. Before she could apologise, he was asking, "And what should I be doing?"

She couldn't find the words to answer that; replying "kissing me" seemed to be a little too forward, so she simply shrugged and hoped he would understand.

"If my lady is averse to talking, would she prefer riding, dancing or eating?"

He was teasing her now, and she felt her lips curve in a smile that seemed utterly detached from the rest of her. She hadn't really seen this playful side to him before, and it was nice to know he had one, but she couldn't play along. He might be entirely at ease here on the stairs, but she had never been in such a fine place aside from the palace, and she was still a little concerned that he might ask her to leave. "Cythera," she replied instead.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Yes, my lady?"

"Cythera. You can call me Cythera. After we're finished not talking."

"Have we started not talking yet?" he wanted to know.

She looked up at him, smiling. "You're not letting us start," she admonished. "You keep talking. I've half a mind to let your grandmother send you to Scanra after all."

"How do you know she wants to send me there?"

She squeezed his hands gently, watching wariness fill his eyes. "Your father told me. That's why I'm here, to save you from Scanra."

Gary turned her hands over in his. "Is that the only reason you're here?"

"No," she replied, drawing out the word. Disappointment was rapidly filling her. He was talking too much, he wanted to discuss things; she wasn't there to converse. Her only hope was that he was shy. Before he could open his mouth again, she leaned forward and stopped his words with a kiss.

It wasn't like she had expected. The butterflies that earlier had been flapping around her stomach awoke again, but there was no shiver down her spine. A little dismayed, she pulled back to catch him smiling at her as though he had just been granted entry to the Divine Realms. He cupped her face in one of his hands, and with the other drew her closer.

And when he kissed her, she thought her insides might melt.

Somewhere above, a chubby boy slipped away, grinning.

To his most esteemed Highness, the almost ruler of the greatest country in the world (and my personal favourite, by the way),

It would appear that your recent indulgence in a not-so-respectable habit of gambling has paid off, as it were. Sir Gareth, your notable cousin and my wonderful knight-master, has finally got his girl. Not that anybody thought he wouldn't, being of almost as fine blood as yourself.

I realise that this should mean that I must part with a sizeable sum of money, but I have a few things to draw to your attention.

Firstly, I know what happened last summer. Don't think I don't.

Secondly, I would be largely in your debt (not in a monetary way, mind) if you would simply let the matter of the money slip your mind.

Thirdly, I'm not paying you. I believe this is for the best, seeing as how the heir to the throne should not be encouraged to dabble in such abysmal habits.

Thank you, and do have a splendid day,

Douglass of Veldine.