“Like Sparky says, once you’ve been really cold…”
“Get yourself inside. Lesley has mulled wine to warm everyone up. There’ll be some time to get changed afterwards, if you want to.”
“Damn,” she said, glancing back into the darkness. “I’ve left my outfit back at the courts. What with all the fuss this afternoon, I didn’t bring it.” There was something evasive in that. The way she said it was a little too easy, almost as if she’d planned it.
“What are you up to?” I asked her.
“A girl’s got to look nice,” she said, eyes wide. She looked down at her clothes “I can’t wear this, I have mud all over my jeans. Besides, all my hair stuff is back at the courts and the bathrooms here are going to be crazy busy.”
“You can use the one in our room,” I said, but the look she gave me told me that was not going to satisfy her.
“I don’t have my outfit,” she said.
I knew I was being conned, but I wasn’t quite sure in what way. Sometimes, however it pays to give in gracefully. “You’ll be back in time for the swearing-in,” I said. “Promise?”
“I’ll be back,” she said.
“Promise,” I insisted.
“I’ll be back in time for the party, and you can give me a hard time if I’m not,” she said.
It was as good as it was going to get.
There was a knock on Tate’s door.
“Yes?” he said.
“It’s me,” said Alex in a hoarse whisper. She opened the door enough to peer around the edge. “Are you busy?”
Tate was lying across the top of his bed, reading a book. “You’d better come in,” he said. She could see his hair was draped forward around his face, the waves in it catching the light from the lamp. He closed the book gently and placed it on the bed. The leather cover was worn where it had been handled, as if he’d read it many times. “What’s up?” he asked.
“The shower’s not working in my room,” she said. “I wondered if I could come and use yours.”
“Yours is not working?” he said.
“I need to get changed. The big party starts in a while and I’ve got a lovely dress to wear. Would you like to see?”
“See?” he said.
“You keep repeating things I say,” she said to him.
“Repeating…” he said. “Yes, I do.”
“Well?” she said, getting a little bit annoyed with him now. This was not the reception she was expecting.
“There’s nothing wrong with your shower, is there Alex?”
“It’s not working,” she protested.
“Why isn’t it working?” he watched her struggle to come to an explanation he would accept.
“It was working yesterday,” she said.
“You don’t have to lie to me,” he said.
“I’m not lying,” she said. “It was.”
“Alex, you have an ability with water. If you wanted a shower to work, it would work.”
“OK,” she said, flushing with anger. “I’ll go and try it again.” She turned to the door.
“Where are you going?” he asked her.
“I’m going back to my room to see if I can get the frickin’ shower to work.” Now she sounded sulky and resentful.
“I thought you were going to show me your dress,” he said.
“I need to get changed. I’ll come back later, maybe.”
Her hand was on the door handle. “Alex?” She stopped, but she didn’t turn around. “What did you really come for?” He thought she would bolt, back to her room. She stood there, hand on door handle, clothes draped over her arm. He waited, allowing her time to think.
“I thought…” she said, still facing the door. “I thought, we haven’t seen each other all day, and you’ve been busy and me too, to be honest, and I have to go to this party tonight cause my Dad will kill me if I don’t go, so I won’t see you until tomorrow at least and I thought…”
“Yes?” said Tate.
“Never mind,” she said, tugging on the door handle, which seemed stuck all of a sudden.
“Alex?” said Tate.
“Ugh! Wretched thing. It’s stuck.”
“I don’t want you to go,” his voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.
“You don’t?” she said.
He scooted across the bed, so that he could sit in the edge. “Put your clothes down on the bed.”
She placed the bundle on the bed next to him. He reached for her hand and guided her in front of him. Even sitting he was almost as tall as she was standing up. “If you use my shower, you’ll be naked in my room,” he said.
Her tummy was doing tumbles. “I can lock the bathroom door, if you want.”
“It doesn’t have a lock,” he said, reaching for the buttons on her shirt. He started undoing each one. They looked tiny in his fingers. He untucked the shirt from her waist. His hand slipped under her shirt and around her back and he drew her forward so that he could kiss her neck. She slipped the shirt from her shoulders and it fell on the floor.
“Oh, God,” she said. “I’m going to be late for the party.”
“We have plenty of time,” said Tate, undoing the button of her jeans.
“No,” she said, kissing him full on the mouth. “I am definitely going to be late.”
“What are you looking so nervous about,” asked Blackbird. She was wearing a teal shot-silk dress which made her look every inch the Lady of the Eighth Court.
“Alex was supposed to be back by now,” I said
“Alex? I thought she was getting changed.”
“She left her outfit at the courts and she went back for it. She promised me she’d be back in time for this evening’s events.”
“She went back to the courts?” said Blackbird, eyebrow lifting.
“What?” I asked her. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I’m sure it’s nothing,” said Blackbird. “We need to be downstairs in three minutes. Angela will be waiting for us. Put your jacket on. Have you checked your sword?”
I slipped into my best jacket, one without bullet holes. “Yes. I even polished the edge.”
“Then you may escort me,” said Blackbird. I held open the door and as she passed she held out her arm so that I could entwine mine in hers. As we went down the stairs, keeping step, I could hear the gathering of people in the great hall. Snatches of conversation drifted to us.
“…like some sort of demon…”
“…all that is achieved by insects the size of your thumbnail…”
“…he can’t have done that before, surely…?”
The double doors were pulled back allowing us to see the newly decorated great hall. The room fell into silence. The fire crackled in the great hearth, warming the room, and I saw that Lesley had adapted some generic Christmas decorations to our purposes. The room was garlanded in green and gold, with gold baubles hanging from the ceilings and strings of white lights over the pictures and the hangings.
There was a burst of applause from somewhere near the back, and then everyone was clapping.
“Smile,” said Blackbird through her teeth.
“Why are they clapping?” I murmured to her.
“It doesn’t matter. Just smile.”
We entered the room slowly and a corridor opened up for us. We were guided around until we reached the back of the room where the double doors into the garden room had been shut to prevent the chill from the night cooling the room, though a little cool air would have been nice. We stood with our backs against the doors until the applause died down.
I looked around, and there was a sea of faces. I tried to avoid catching anyone’s eye, but I could see Andy, the stubble from his face gone and his hair pulled back. He was wearing a lounge suit and looked handsome next to the woman who’d been wearing the miniskirt, who was now in a bright orange full-length dress and high heeled sandals. Megan wore a simple layered dress of muslin over gold silk. Even Sparky had dressed up, wearing a shirt and pencil-thin tie, standing next to the dark-eyed girl, who looked waiflike in a little black dress and kitten heels.
“Tonight,” said Blackbird, “is a special night. It is the end of the year, and the beginning of a new year. The sun dips its lowest and returns tomorrow with new vigour. This is the longest night, and that renewal will take time, but it will come, as we all know.”