“He has to sleep sometime,” the courtier next to her said. Her hair was golden, pin-straight, and worn loose to frame her pale white face and full lips. “Lucien told me his bed is nearly the size of his whole room.”
“Lucien would know.” The other woman smirked and raised her teacup in a salute.
“Let’s please discuss literally anything other than Bastian’s conquests,” Alie said as she tugged Lore over to the others. “It seems rude while we’re in his apartments. Like discussing the quality of the beef while the butcher is right there.”
“Lucien would also know about the quality of the beef,” the dark-haired one said, and it sent them into peals of laughter, even Alie, who playfully swatted at her. She put down her teacup to grab Alie’s hand out of the air and gave it an exaggerated kiss.
Lore managed to smile, though nerves crept in a noose around her neck. These women moved like old friends, like people who had grown up around each other the way old trees grew around fence posts. Their laughter seemed good-natured, and the curious looks the other two gave her weren’t in any way malicious. But such groups had difficulty changing shape to accommodate newcomers.
There was no whiff of belladonna in the tea. That was something, at least.
Delicate china met delicate lips, delicate pastries were sampled by delicate hands. Lore felt like a horse let loose in a jewelry shop.
“Everyone,” Alie said, keeping firm grip on Lore’s arm as if she could feel the urge to run seeping from her pores, “this is Eldelore Remaut, Gabriel’s cousin. Though I’m sure you already know.”
“Lovely to finally meet you, Eldelore. I’m Danielle.” The golden-haired courtier smiled brightly. Her gown was a pale green and cut similarly to Lore’s, though the ribbons trailing from Danielle’s sleeves were wrapped around her upper arms and tied into bows, so they didn’t dangle.
So that’s how you were supposed to wear them. Not hanging so low they made you think you had ants crawling all over you. Lore felt the sudden urge to fix her own, but stilled her hands and nodded instead, returning Danielle’s smile.
“Brigitte,” offered the dark-haired woman who’d kissed Alie’s hand. Her gown was different, peach-colored with fitted sleeves that went to the elbow and ended in a ruffle of lace. Lore vaguely recognized her from the masquerade that first night. She’d been dressed as a mermaid, shimmering green painted into her hair. It still looked siren-like, even now, half of it twisted into a black crown around her head, the rest worn in long locs down her back.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Lore said, taking one of the other seats at the wrought-iron table. “Thank you for letting me crash your party.”
“No crashing needed.” Brigitte took a macaron from the pile in the center of the table. “We were thrilled to finally have the chance. You and Gabriel have been the talk of the Citadel for nearly a month.”
The tingle of nerves traveled from the back of her neck to trail the length of her spine. Lore forced a smile. “Well,” she said, and wasn’t sure how to continue, so she just didn’t.
“Bri and Dani are my dearest friends,” Alienor said, finally taking a seat and pulling over a plate of pastries. “We’ve been close since we were learning our letters. Bri and I took piano together, and Dani’s father is an associate of Lord Bellegarde’s.” No one seemed to find it strange that Alie referred to her father by his title.
Dani shifted in her seat. Lore wondered if her relationship with her father was as apparently frosty as Alie’s was with her own.
“I didn’t want to overwhelm you with a huge party,” Alie continued, selecting something covered in powdered sugar and spearing it with a tiny fork. “Though since one of Bastian’s fetes was your first social engagement, anything will seem small afterward.”
Lore laughed politely, fighting her anxiety’s urging to shove pastries in her mouth one after the other. “It was certainly enlightening.”
Danielle’s smile was genuine, if nakedly curious. “We’ve barely seen you since your dramatic entrance at Bastian’s masquerade, other than your introduction at First Day prayers.” Her tone was still friendly, but something sharp flashed in her eyes. Curiosity, and not a small bit of wariness.
“I’ve been ill,” Lore said, searching for a way to explain her long absence that wasn’t I channeled too much Mortem and then looked for proof of treason in the Church library. In a flash of inspiration, she gestured to her middle. “Cramps.”