Excerpt, VOW, Book 8
….
Althar frowned. His dream kept returning. He was part of it. Oanada was also part of his dream. Stirring, Althar grimaced. The ivory piece would please Inali. He set it on the shelf above Inali’s work space for his brother to find and put away his tools. He would clean up the crescent moons of ivory shavings and curls tomorrow.
Day grew lighter beyond the carriage house windows. He stretched, yawned, and as the kitchen stirred with the rumblings of another early morning, Althar slipped quietly and unseen through the house and to his room. The plans and preparations for Fayerton’s Winter Ball and the young woman he had been invited to escort were far from his thoughts as he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
***
Hours later, Madra, Mavis, and Oanada fussing about him, Althar was properly attired in his freshly pressed black velvet evening suit. Spills of white, homespun lace edged the cuffs of his sleeves and collared his throat. The chain of a gold pocket watch hung from the fob of his jacket lapel.
“Take care of that watch. It belonged to your grandfather James Breen,” Mavis said. “My, but how I do remember the way Master Kieron was always asking for the time.”
“Whatever do I need a watch for?” Althar protested. He had protested everything done to him since he had walked unaware down the stairs shortly after lunch. It was not long before he realized the reason behind Inali’s smile when his brother helped Natty Banary dunk him into a bath of hot water and, laughing, pushed him under. Then to add further insult to his Mikuyi pride, he was forced to sit still while Oanada clipped the shaggy length of his hair — not that he minded the radiant fragrance of Oanada’s closeness or the tickle of her slender fingers in his hair, tugging if he dared move. While Oanada threatened him with the shears, Madra trimmed, filed, and buffed his fingernails.
“Master Althar,” Orrick squeaked. He eyeballed the bandage wrapped around Althar’s right hand. “You hurt yourself.”
“I cut my hand,” Althar muttered, reminded of the dull pain. He picked up the cup of willow bark tea Oanada had prepared. The tea had grown tepid, but he took a swallow of the bitter liquid.
“How did you do hurt yourself?” Pearl asked.
“I broke the window in my room—”
Flora looked up, interested. She moved closer and sat down at the kitchen table. Althar smiled absently at the girl who rested her chin in her cupped palm. Flora sighed. As Oanada trimmed the uneven lengths of Althar’s hair, Flora watched every movement, her attention absorbed.
Finished with trimming Althar’s hair, Oanada let Pearl comb the glossy black locks. “At least you left some hair on my head unlike the last haircut Father and Mistress Rosenthorn gave me.” Althar laughed. He shook his head and stood, pulling the towel from his shoulders.
Flora blinked, sat up straight, her cheeks pinking at the sight of Althar without his shirt.
“I am not finished with you yet, Althar,” Oanada said, pouring steaming water into a basin. “Sit down and let me clean your hand. I have a healing salve that will help and you need a clean bandage.”
Althar reluctantly obeyed. Pearl and Flora looked on, grimacing in sympathy when Oanada removed the blood stained bandage and examined and cleaned several small but superficial lacerations without disturbing the tender, swollen flesh.
The green tinted salve felt pleasantly cooling. Althar recognized the fragrance of the Dreamweaver and remembered Oanada’s healing from before — a lifetime ago it seemed to him now. He had forgotten the puckered, crescent scar on his shoulder until Flora reminded him.
“How did you get the scar on your shoulder, Althar?” Flora asked before fully realizing the inappropriateness of her question or that she was staring at him, all eyes and sighs.
“Flora!” Madra scolded. “Perhaps it is none of our business and you have other things to do this morning than sitting there staring at Master Althar. You too, Pearl. Go check on Orrick and see if your father has finished repairing the broken square of glass in Master Althar’s window.”
“Yes, Momma,” Pearl sulked reluctant to leave the room.
***
Hours later, he stood transformed from Mikuyi to fashionable gentleman preparing to leave for the evening.
Pearl giggled. “The watch is to remind you to come home by midnight, Master Althar,” Pearl said. “Or you might turn into a pumpkin!”
Althar grinned, said, “A pumpkin, eh?”
Oanada straightened the lace cravat spilling down the front of his black velvet evening jacket. “Yes, a pumpkin!” She laughed, silver eyes dancing. She stepped back when Inali returned.
“Is that you, Althar?” Inali grinned, raised an eyebrow.
Althar frowned at the reflection of the stranger facing him in the foyer mirror. “I think so, although I doubt Rhan or Brego would recognize me. Well, I am ready. I hope Fayerton and Megan Wellborn’s family are ready for me. I am beginning to think this may not be a good idea, Oanada. Is it too late—”
“Yes,” Oanada said. “Megan is expecting you, Althar.
Althar glanced helplessly at Inali for support.
“Natty has already hired the cab and driver,” Inali replied.
“It is here! The cab and driver are here!” Pearl announced from her post at the drawing room window.
Althar shrugged on his greatcoat. Inali opened the front door. Oanada laughed and brushed a kiss upon Althar’s smoothly shaven cheek.
“Megan will be proud to be seen with you tonight — and my father will be there,” Oanada said.
Pearl yanked on his coat sleeve. “You have not forgotten how to dance have you, Althar? You remember the steps Flora and I taught you?”
“I hope I remember, Pearlie.” Althar chucked the girl beneath her chin.
“You look so handsome, Althar,” Flora said. “I wish I could go to the Winter Ball. You will remember everything to tell Pearl and me?”
“Yes, I will, Flora.”
Inali nudged him. “You are keeping the driver waiting, brother.”
“And do not forget to be home by midnight!” Pearl called as Inali walked out with Althar.
“I would not dare forget, Pearlie.”
“Enjoy the Winter Ball, Althar — for all of us,” Madra called as she, Pearl, Oanada, Mavis, and Flora all squeezed into the doorway to wave. Orrick wearing a wide, toothy grin stood at the cab door to open it for Althar.
***
The cabbie sat on top, snug in his fur rugs. He had a dozen other fares that night but none as interesting as the household of Fayerfield House crowding through the front door to see the Mikuyi off for the evening. His next stop at the Wellborn’s townhouse would be even more interesting — one of the reasons he had accepted Natty Banary’s hire for the evening.
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