Waking with a start at the sounds of the maids rustling into the room, Kevlyn sat up straight in bed. Regretting her decision instantly, the room spun and a sharp pain jabbed at her midsection, causing her to fall into the pillows under her head again. A sweat broke out on her forehead, and the room kept spinning. Softly, a moan escaped her lips, bespeaking her discomfort.
Sara'thai rose, propping himself up on his elbow. A sleepy, yet concerned, look etched his face. Kevlyn only saw his features through blurry eyes.
Her stomach roiled for trying to focus her sight and she half-stumbled, half-ran her way to the bathroom attached to Sara'thai's rooms. There, the contents of her stomach resurfaced in a noisy fashion, leaving Kevlyn wracked with heaving and sweats. Tears poured from her eyes, and her limbs suddenly became heavy with exhaustion.
With nothing left in her stomach, Kevlyn sank into a pitiful puddle at the washbasin's side, sobbing even as she drifted back into a fitful sleep. The entire ordeal only took a few moments, even though it felt like eternity to the seamstress. Dimly, she heard Sara'thai and some of the maids come into the bathroom. She felt herself being lifted by Sara'thai's strong arms and carried back to bed. A cool cloth was put over her forehead.
The maid that hovered over Kevlyn clucked her tongue as she arranged the wilted flower of a seamstress under the covers. Tenatively, she looked up at the Lord Steward and took a moment to absorb his worried expression. His eyes caught hers, but she did not look away. Instead, she held his gaze with a knowing, matronly glint in her eye.
A moment later, she scurried out of the Lord Steward's chambers.
The Blackstein gown needs to be fitted... the StarSworn shirts need to be mended... the DayBrook appointment is today, she needs to be measured...
Even in her sleep, Kevlyn Silkendawn ran through her mental list of things to do. Already a day behind, she was sure that the mess she would arrive to at her shop would be catastrophic. Her apprentices were capable, certainly, but Kevlyn did like things just so.
She opened her eyes and swung her legs over the side of the bed, expecting to be hale and whole once more. Still fuzzy with sleep, it seemed to Kevlyn that her dreams, where she was well, were reality. Instead of rising from sleep in her usual fluid manner, though, the seamstress was treated to a repeat performance from her innards. She raced, as best she could, from her bedside to the washbasin.
“But I haven't had anything to eat in a day!” she wailed from the bathroom, to no one in particular.
Kevlyn was not an outgoing creature by nature. She spent her days, and often times her night, sewing and creating beauty out of cloth, thread, and seams. Sara'thai, her established beau, seemed to approve of her generally quiet composure, but Kevlyn knew that Sara'thai remembered a woman so worldly and outgoing that her very presence demanded attention so wholly that even a tilt of her head could command an entire ballroom.
The ghost of Carlin hung like a heavy weight on a line between the pair of lovers at times, and Kevlyn was painfully aware of it. Sara'thai never talked about Carlin; Kevlyn merely knew of his attachment to her. Though Sara'thai was pleased with Kevlyn, he still longed for Carlin.
There were days that the unspoken weight between Sara'thai and Kevlyn became unbearable and Kevlyn despaired. Today was one of those days, and Kevlyn was filled with a nervous energy that make it impossible to sit and stitch. She needed movement and sound. Just something, anything to take away the energy and turn it into calm.
A half-remembered bit of conversation drifted to the forefront of Kevlyn's mind. It was something one of the younger daughters of the Daybrook family mentioned. Something about a place with fine drinks for ladies, strong drinks for the men, and dancing. Lots of dancing.
Sara'thai appeared to be on an errand when Kevlyn arrived home at the Nerel'thos Manor. She quickly scribbled a note to explain her absence and handed it to one of the maids she was friendly with. Moments after, Kevlyn emerged from her closet with an uncharacteristic ensemble.
Her dress was red and fitted like a glove to Kevlyn's attractive form. Bits of lace and ribbon ties teased the on-looker's eye, daring them to take a second look at her. The black tresses of her hair were drawn up in their usual up-do, but small jewels dotted the design. She glittered like a rhinestone from head to toe, and she strutted in such a way as to announce that she knew it.
Gliding out of the Manor and past dropped jaws, the bedecked seamstress made her way to the location the Daybrook girl had spoke of. It was a non-descript facade with subdued, though tasteful, exterior design. But the sound, the demanding throb of music from inside, was enough to confirm that she was in the right place. A deep breath and a few swishing-steps later, and Kevlyn was inside.
Inside was better than she imagined. The establishment was a single, large room lined with divans and cushions along the walls. It was dark, save for the colored motes of magic floating through the air. Wait staff, fashionably dress, bustled through the throngs of people. Orders were made and drinks were delivered swiftly, as if a part of some sort of elaborate dance.
Kevlyn's eyes were invariably drawn to the dance floor, marked by plain tiles that took up the majority of the center of the room. She was easily drawn onto the floor, the rhythm of the music was intoxicating. She felt layers of herself being peeled away as she stepped onto the tile and felt her feet step and hips swing almost involuntarily to the beat. A deeply buried sense of familiarity surfaced in Kevlyn, and in moments she was moving as if she had been dancing all of her life. Her arms and feet and hips and chest moved as one. Muscles unused for months stretched. Quickly, she lost herself in the movement and Kevlyn became the object of everyone's attention.
She had just spun and stopped in a strong, attractive pose when a hand took her hip from behind and spun her around to face the man daring enough to partner her.
“So bold tonight, my quiet Dove?” Sara'thai murmured to a pleasantly surprised Kevlyn.
He kept his hand on her hip, but pulled her in close enough that there was no space between them. A smirk rested on his lips, appearing casual, but Kevlyn knew him better than most. The fire in his eyes was unmistakable. She had challenged him and he wasn't going to let the challenge go unanswered. A slow, curvy smile, so unlike Kevlyn, spread on her lips.
“As bold as I dare,” she purred in response while stepping around Sara'thai, allowing her hand to trail behind her, her fingertips dragging on his shirt.
Sara'thai caught her hand and took a moment to press her fingertips to his lips before turning her wrist to him. He kissed that tender place he knew him to have, his eyes locked to hers. Then, he clasped her hand and spun her rapidly. Carlin wasn't between them tonight.
"Suncrown has enough mojo on it's own that it doesn't need outside help." "I RP Classy." "I 'F*** YOU' with love!"
Kevlyn sat quietly in her shop, stitching away. It was after hours and her apprentices were gone. It was the time of night when she worked on a project she didn't quite dare to dream she would be able to use.
The design of the dress itself was never sketched, never drawn. It existed in Kevlyn's minds-eye alone, she was never brave enough to put it on paper where it might be seen and guessed for what it was. As a half-finished dress, it was easy to disguise as a heap of scrap-cloth. The seamstress was very sure the article had never been seen.
A sudden, familiar, worry sprang up in Kevlyn's gut. What is she had assumed too much and read him wrong? What if she'd never be able to wear the dress she'd spent so much of herself creating?
"Stop it," she commanded herself, "Stop it right now."
It was internal conflict, always on the edge of all-out war. She knew that Sara'thai wanted her. Why else would he have been so bold as to move her into the Nerel'thos Manor? But the fear in her eyes when he thought she was... with child... it turned her hopes to ice. Sometimes, when she was particularly doubtful, the icy feeling in the core of her caused her to shake in doubt.
Tonight, thankfully, was not one of those nights. Sara'thai had lunched with her, and the frequency of his visits always soothed her fears and made her bold. Kevlyn used the chance he gave her today to hem up the gown. All that would be left would be the place the lace and hand-work the embellished bits.
White thread pulled through white cloth.
prick... pluck... swish
"Suncrown has enough mojo on it's own that it doesn't need outside help." "I RP Classy." "I 'F*** YOU' with love!"
"You are bold, Firedancer, to let yourself be known now."
"What do I have to fear with the world as it is presently?"
"Your past will catch up with you, you know. You should be watching the shadows."
"Ha! The best assassin's blade in Silvermoon was already contracted to slit my throat, and he was deterred by a better offer. He watches the shadows for me now."
"Impressive."
"So you'll join me?"
"Of course, darling. Life had become dull besides."
* * * * *
"My word! What in the world have you done to your skin?"
"I really rather think it accentuates particular features of mine, Farren, don't you?"
"Well, yes. I suppose it does at that. So you've been hiding in plain sight, my sweeting, have you?"
"Where else was I to go, Farren, when I was abandoned?"
"Augh. Girl. Don't pout at me like that. I know you have a reason to be here, and it isn't to pout."
"Come to my teahouse, Farren. It is time that Silvermoon returns to its comfortable routine of decadence."
"Sweeting! Are you not aware of the Lich King's awakening? There are soldiers dying in the north. We are at war. Now is not the time for idleness or decadence."
"So you would abandon me again? Leave me alone, with no one to protect me?"
"Damn it, woman. Don't look at me like that."
"You do know that Crystalspring, Oakenshield, and Daybrook have been by the teahouse, don't you? They are pleased to have a quiet place with pretty creatures surrounding them to sit and talk about important matters of the council."
"Eh? Any they haven't invited me?"
"Farren, my lord, why else do you think I've been sent to fetch you?"
"Sly old things, they are. They know what I can't resist."
"Then stop playing, Farren, and come with me."
* * * * *
Sunday, February 21st
Business continues to grow, as is evident by the tally numbers on the page previous. A considerable dent has been put in all of my accounts with my debtors already. If this pace keeps up, I'll be my own woman again in a year.
More exciting, though, is the return of normalcy. The girls are back and looking fit and pretty, despite their months of inactivity. My Lords are finding their footsteps bringing them to my doors, the knowledge that their lovelies are home and under one roof irresistible to most. Those that floundered in coming back to us were intoxicated by the concentration of power.
It feels good to be at the center of it all again.
This Dove flies again.
"Suncrown has enough mojo on it's own that it doesn't need outside help." "I RP Classy." "I 'F*** YOU' with love!"
She'd had enough. Enough of him and his talk of children, with that tone like he didn't want to scare her off. He ought to have demanded it of her and then taken her in a manly fashion. It would have angered her, if she had conceived, but at least it would have had its appeal.
The way he catered to her was the same way he catered to the cousins. He didn't want to offend or to cause trouble. Deals could be made behind closed doors that worked just as well, he would say. Yet, he would always forget to use her talents in furthering his own ambitions. It was maddening.
A Dove's Flight was just the most profitable business within the Phoenixsong to him. It should have been so much more. The teahouse was her freedom, and it could have been his, too.
Her bags were packed and her note was written, declaring their marriage over in the formal fashion. It was possible that he would come after her and try to win her back, but she had already made up her mind. She wasn't the marrying type.
Kevlyn stepped out of the Nerel'thos Manor and into the night air. It was chilly with winter, and she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. A porter hefted her bag and trunk into the carriage.
"Madame Aria'thor, where to?" the carriage driver asked.
"Mistress Silkendawn, if you please," she corrected, "and to the teahouse, if you will."
"Suncrown has enough mojo on it's own that it doesn't need outside help." "I RP Classy." "I 'F*** YOU' with love!"
