Selemei frowned. This could not be coincidence, and it would be rude to confront the motive of an unexpected guest. If she pushed ahead in her own inquiries, was rockfall inevitable? To protect Keir, should she give up on her questions altogether?
“They are all welcome,” she said. She took a deep breath, weighing the words “tell,” “inform,” and “alert” for how far to mobilize the Household. Best to be cautious. “Please alert the Household to the change of plan.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Grivi returned swiftly, apologizing for his absence at a critical moment; Selemei reassured him and allowed him to escort her to her seat. She kept sharp eyes on her guests as they entered. Lady Ryoe wore a smile that sparkled like the ruby pins in her sandstone hair; she came close for a kiss on the cheek before she sat down in the chair at Selemei’s left hand. Lady Lienne’s walk was tight; so also her mouth, and her gray sheath gown; she whispered close to Selemei’s ear.
“My sister insisted.”
Selemei looked past her shoulder to Lady Teifi, who was taking a seat on the facing couch. She and Lienne did resemble each other, though Teifi’s long straight hair was sifted gray instead of pure black. Selemei kissed Lienne’s cheek.
“You’re both welcome. Please, have a seat. Our Household Keeper will be pleased to know that her tea cakes are held in such high regard.”
Under the watchful gaze of her younger sister, Teifi returned the smile, but the faint blue tinge of her lips matched a chill in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have missed them.”
Keir entered then, through the double doors from the back of the suite. She hesitated a moment at the sight of Lady Teifi, but there was only one chair left, at Selemei’s right. She took it, flashing a nervous smile. “I’m Selemei’s cousin, Keir. Had you already started talking about it?”
“Not at all,” Selemei said quickly. But when it came to proposing a less fraught topic of conversation, her mind whirled and came up blank.
Fortunately—showing impeccable timing—the Household Keeper appeared in her black silk dress, carrying the cakes. Her presentation was never the same twice; today she brought a sculpture of a fountain, five crystal spouts rising to different heights from a slate basin below. Atop each spout balanced a glass bowl delicate as a bubble, and inside each bowl lay a pearl-white cake garnished with a single red marshberry. Selemei herself could not help joining in the general sigh of admiration. Tea-pouring and the passing of cake bowls extended her reprieve, while the conversation turned to sweets, art, sweets as art, and where to find the most skilled Keepers. Selemei pressed her fork into the pliant surface of her cake, dared a bite. But every pause clutched at her, begging to be filled with harmless normality.
Here was a topic that might be harmless enough. “By the way, those are lovely hairpins you’re wearing today, Ryoe.”
Ryoe chuckled, licking berry juice from her lips. Her pale hand fluttered up to her hair. “Rubies are the gem of this year, Selemei. We’re all wearing them—even you.”
“Me?” Her own dress was sapphire blue, but then she remembered the bracelet on her wrist. Lienne wore rubies on the neckline of her dress, Teifi wore them in a band down the center of her bodice, and Keir wore them in a spiral brooch at her shoulder. Selemei’s confidence faltered.
We’re wearing blood. All of us.
She tried to cover her consternation with a sip of tea, but too soon; it burned her lip. Nothing could be harmless when the truth hid everywhere. She set down the cup.
“All right, I know what you’re all here for. You want to know about Xeref’s proposal, and I want to know what you’ve heard, and how you are thinking about it.” To protect Keir, she assumed her cousin’s argument like a cloak: “Personally, I don’t think it goes far enough.”
Keir sat straighter. “You don’t? But I thought you said—”
“What a thing to say!” Teifi cried.
Selemei smiled, carefully, and folded her hands on her lap so they wouldn’t shake. She could handle this; it wasn’t the first time she’d been the target of all eyes at once.
“I’m not afraid to say it,” she replied. “Xeref wants to prevent deaths like that of Lady Indelis. He thought the best way would be to allow ladies who had come close to death to retire from their duties. His intent is not to hasten the decline, but to allow ladies to raise their own children—and actually, also, to allow them more recovery time from birth injuries before they must consider pregnancy again.” That was a good idea! Sometimes she surprised herself.
“Birth injuries.” Lady Keir shuddered visibly. “Mercy of Heile.”
“I understand your fear, Keir,” Selemei said reassuringly. “That’s why it’s important to allow time for complete recovery. After all, a healthier mother will bear a healthier child.”
“It won’t work,” said Lady Ryoe. The reminder of blood glinted from her hair as she shook her head. “I mean, retirement sounds good, but who’s going to enforce it? We can’t send Arissen guards into bedrooms.”
“That’s true,” Selemei admitted.
“Then—forgive me—who is going to tell our gentlemen no?”
Selemei winced. Her heart wanted to protest, but how recently had she tasted this fear, despite how deeply she trusted Xeref? She almost looked over her shoulder at Grivi. “Well. We’ll just have to think of something, I imagine. The wording of the proposal hasn’t been finalized yet.”
“This is ridiculous,” Lienne muttered. “Lowers have children when they want to.”
“Lowers, ugh!” Teifi grunted. “There are plenty of them.”
Lienne’s pale cheeks flushed. “Having too many children is killing us, Teifi, and it still isn’t stopping the decline. If we’re all going to die anyway, do we have to be miserable while we’re doing it?”
“Lienne,” said Ryoe, “I had no idea you were so upset. Is something wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that you’re even considering this nonsense,” Teifi said. “Politics is gentlemen’s business.”
“But this is about our lives,” protested Keir.
“And it’s our children who stand to lose their mothers,” said Lienne.
“I can’t believe you, Sister,” Teifi hissed through her teeth. “That you’d associate yourself with selfish cats who would turn their backs on the future of the Race!”
“Teifi, stop!”
Selemei spoke measuredly into the shocked silence that followed. “I don’t believe it’s selfish to try to understand the impact of the rules that gentlemen impose on our lives. The fact is, the proposal in its current form was my partner’s idea, and it’s uninformed in many ways, and incomplete. This is why it’s so important for us to discuss it.”
“The Race requires a higher form of loyalty,” Teifi said. “These are the burdens of power.”
“Oh?” Selemei asked, clamping down on a surge of anger and forcing a smile. “And would you like to tell us about the number and health of your children, then? How your sacrifices have rewarded you with success?” She’d heard enough about her from conversations with Lienne and Tamelera to know that Teifi couldn’t answer that.
A muscle tightened in the older woman’s jaw.
Lienne threw a keen glance at her sister, and stood up. “Selemei, I’m so sorry, we’d better go.”
She took a deep breath. “Darling, what a shame.” She squeezed Lienne’s hand, trying to catch her eye. “Please let’s talk another time.”
Lienne and Teifi’s swift departure left the other guests in a fluster, and they soon excused themselves, also.
“Is there tea left?” Selemei sighed.