SaDiablo Hall, Dhemlan, Kaeleer, Fourth of July Weekend (Fandom Time)
“Morton!” Karla yelled over her shoulder. “We are late! I can’t believe you let me sleep so long! By the Darkness, I am going to hex you!” Karla was running up the long drive to SaDiablo Hall. The invitation had said that the party started at three, and here is was, already five past. And they were still outside.
“Hex me? How?” Morton called back. He was taking the drive at a brisk walk. He could afford to be so casual; his legs were much longer than hers. “You sound like you’ve been reading novels again.” He knew better than to suggest that after three years, Jaenelle could wait a few more minutes. Karla was seriously pissy about running late. Still, he stood by his decision to let Karla sleep in.
As if she could read his thoughts (and Morton made sure his inner barriers were still high) she turned to yell “Why would you do that?! Especially on today of all days!”
“Because I’d rather have you bitch at me for a few hours because we were late than have you be bitchy all day because you were over-tired,” he said casually. He could say things like that right now because she almost certainly wasn’t going to turn around to kick him. And as long as he stayed out of teeth and leg-reach for the next few hours, he’d be fine.
Finally, Karla reached the doorstep. Unsurprisingly, SaDiablo Hall was a grand and imposing edifice, stately and old with well-kept grounds. Karla could almost sense the dark power emanating from it. She straightened her clothing and hair while she waited for Morton to catch up with her.
“Dear cousin,” she said sweetly as he approached the stone steps leading to the great double doors. Knowing that tone, Morton flinched. Karla stomped on the heel of one of her boots, and smiled as the slim silver blade protruded from the toe. “Kiss kiss,” was all she said.
It was enough. Morton took a step back and silently resolved not to test her patience any further today. “You still needed the sleep,” he muttered rebelliously, watching her slide the knife back into its hidden compartment in her sole.
Karla ignored him as she banged on the door. Hard. With her fist enhanced just a wee bit with Craft. She paused for a moment, and then banged again.
The door was jerked open by a Red-Jeweled Warlord who was also a…butler? Odd. Still, she didn’t stop to pay him any mind, other than giving him a sharp smile as she swept by him and into the great hall. She stopped where the sunlight coming from the lead glass window above the double doors produced a natural spotlight. Tall and slim, she wore severely tailored, dark blue trousers, a loose jacket, and her new boots, a gift from Triela. Her white-blond hair hung around her face in waves. Darknened eyebrows and lashes framed ice-blue eyes.
“Sisters,” she said, giving the two Queens in the room a perfunctory nod that couldn’t quite be called insolent. They weren’t Jaenelle, so they were of moderate importance at best. Of slightly more interest was the Eyerien who wore the Ebon-Gray--Andulvar, Jaenelle’s voice echoed in her mind-but most of her attention was on the handsome and distinguished-looking Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince. This was Saetan, the High Lord of Hell, her benefactor and Jaenelle’s guardian. Her eyes raked over him from head to toe.
“Well,” she drawled, “you’re not bad-looking for a corpse.”
Before he could reply, Jaenelle’s serene but amused voice said, “You’re only half-right, darling. He’s not a corpse.”
Karla whirled toward the informal drawing room, where Jaenelle leaned against the doorway, her fingers hooked in a long, flowing jacket thrown over one shoulder. She was wearing soft, full, sapphire pants and a skimpy gold-and-silver top.
Karla let out a screech that probably raised the hairs on the backs of the males’ necks.
“You’ve got tits!” Karla pulled open her blue jacket, revealing a silver, just as skimpy top. “So do I, if you call these lovely little bee stings tits.” Smiling her wickedest smile, she turned back to Saetan. “What do you think?”
“Are you asking if I think they’re lovely or if I think they’re bee stings?” Saetan answered immediately.
Karla closed the jacket, crossed her arms, and narrowed her ice-blue eyes. “Sassy, isn’t he?”
“Well, he is a Warlord Prince,” Jaenelle replied.
Ice-blue eyes met sapphire eyes. Both girls smiled.
Karla shrugged. “Oh, all right. I’ll be a polite guest.” She stepped up to Saetan, making sure to step on his toes with her boots, and that wicked smile bloomed. “Kiss kiss.”
Saetan stood there impassively, refusing to wince, with something like an air of resignation about him. Karla decided that she liked him immensely.
She turned away from him and headed for Jaenelle. “You’ve got some explaining to do. I had to figure out all those damn spells by myself.” She swept Jaenelle into the drawing room and closed the door. “Shh!” she said, grinning. “I want to hear what happens next.” Opening the door a crack, she and Jaenelle clustered around the door. eavesdropping.
“Lord Morton,” Saetan was saying. “I only have one thing to say to you.”
“Sir?” Morton said with a fair bit of trepidation.
He gave the boy a rueful smile. “You have my heartfelt sympathy.”
Morton almost melted with relief. “Thank you, sir. I could use it. Having Karla like you is better than not having her not like you, but…” he shrugged.
“Yes,” Saetan said dryly. “I have a friend who has a similar effect on me.” He chuckled softly at Morton’s look of astonishment. “Boyo, even being me doesn’t make a difficult witch any less difficult.”
Karla eased the door closed. “Is he talking about you?” she asked Jaenelle.
Jaenelle just gave a little, silver-coated laugh. “Probably,” she said with a smile. “But maybe not. He did just meet with Titian, the Dea al Mon Queen of the Harpies. And spent the day with Cassandra.”
“The frigid, bitchy Black-Jeweled Queen back there?” Karla asked, jerking her thumb towards the great hall. “The other one seemed happy enough to see me, but that one just looked at me like I was an affront to her dignity.”
“And were you?” Jaenelle asked, grinning.
“Maaaay-be,” Karla replied, before engulfing Jaenelle in a giant hug. “I missed you so very, very much,” she whispered. “Thank the Darkness you’re okay.”
Jaenelle hugged her back, just as hard, wiping away Karla’s fears that the years had changed her, changed their friendship, made Karla less important to Jaenelle. Karla was unsurprised to feel tears slipping down her cheeks. Just being near Jaenelle made the pains and sorrows of the past few years slip away. Jaenelle would fix everything.
BANG!
Both girls jumped backwards, raising shields. Their eyes met and they giggled. “I think you’ve got another guest,” Karla said impishly. They poked their heads out of the drawing room to see another witch enter. She had dark red hair flowing down her back, flashing green eyes, and a swirling gown that looked like an autumn woods in motion. “Morghann,” Jaenelle whispered. She’d been heading towards Saetan but veered as soon as she saw them.
Grinning, she held up a cloth bundle. “I wasn’t sure if we would end up in the stables or digging in the garden, so I brought some real clothes.” She had a strong Scelt accent. Behind her, Saetan looked a bit grumpy upon hearing that. Karla, who’d been a bit unnerved at the prospect of meeting Jaenelle’s other friends, cheered up immediately. This witch couldn’t be all bad.
Morghann entered the drawing room, closing the door behind her, and gave Jaenelle a tight hug. A similar expression of love, relief, and gratitude crossed her face as she did. She opened her eyes to meet Karla’s and gave her a brief nod. Jaenelle was the center of her life, too. “Now go greet Khary,” she ordered as she drew away from Jaenelle. “He’ll never forgive me if I keep you in here.”
Jaenelle nodded and slipped through the door. Morghann turned to Karla and eyed her. Karla eyed her back; she was a Queen, but not a Black Widow or a Healer and she wore the Purple-Dusk. “So, are we going to decide to be friends or will this devolve into a catfight?” Morghann asked, her voice deceptively mild.
Karla gave a show of considering it, then gave Morghann a wicked smile. “Well, Jaenelle will probably be upset if we fight, and the boyos will be upset if we don’t fight in front of them, so it’ll probably be better if we agree now to like one another. And save our catfighting in case Jaenelle has a friend who proves to be less wonderful than we are.”
Morghann laughed. “I like the way you think. And since I’ve yet see Jaenelle be wrong about a person, I think we’re in for a catfight-free afternoon.”
“Unless someone skimps on the buffet,” Karla added cheerfully.
Another knock sent them scurrying to the drawing room door to see who had arrived. They must have appeared on the landing web within seconds of one another and approached the door en masse because Karla knew this group didn’t come from the same Territories. There were satyrs from Pandar, who Jaenelle introduced as Zylona and Jonah. The small, pixie-faced darling with the dusky hair and iridescent wings was Katrine from the Paw Islands. There was a tall, black-haired, gray-eyed youth named Aaron and a hazel-eyed brunette named Sabrina, both from Dharo. Two tawny-skinned, drak-striped youngsters were Grezande and Elan from Tigrelan. And a petite witch with a lucsciously rounded figure, soft brown eyes, and dark brown hair shyly approached the High Lord and introduced herself as Kalush from Nharkhava. Saetan wore an expression that suggested he was already pitying her father.
Beale, looking slightly dazed, started to close the door when it was yanked out of his grasp. And the centaurs walked in.
The young witch, Astor, headed for the girls. The Warlord Prince continued down the great hall until he was standing in front of Saetan. “High Lord.” The greeting sounded more like a challenge.
What would have happened next could have gotten ugly, except Jaenelle was there, stepping into that frozen silence, balling her hand into a fist, and driving it into Sceron’s upper arm. He responded by grabbing her and lifting her up until they were eye to eye.
“That was for not saying hello,” she said, and the room relaxed.
…And then tensed back up again as people looked towards the door. Next to her, Morghann gasped.
In the doorway stood the Children of the Wood. The Dea al Mon. Karla laughed at herself for ever once confusing Leda with one of them.
They both had the slender, sinewy build that was as inherent to their race as their delicately pointed ears. Both wore their silver hair long and unbound. Both had the large, forest-blue eyes, although the girl’s had a touch more silver. Gabrielle, another Black-Widow Healer Queen, like Jaenelle and Karla, stopped just inside the door. Chaosti, a Warlord Prince, continued forward slowly, silently, bringing the aggressiveness and territoriality that was part of all Warlord Princes boiling to the surface. The other males stepped back a pace. Saetan, Andulvar, Aaron, Sceron, and Elan all stepped forward, rising to the challenge Chaosti was offering.
And again, Jaenelle was there, averting the bloodshed that was sure to ensue if all six-or even just two-of the Warlord Princes in the room rose to the killing edge.
“Chaosti,” Jaenelle said in her midnight voice. He slowly turned to face her. “He’s my father, Chaosti,” Witch said. “By my choice.”
After a long moment, Chaosti placed a hand over his heart. “By your choice, cousin,” he replied in a deceptively quiet tenor voice.
Witch gave him one more look to be sure he’d gotten the message, and then Jaenelle turned and lead the girls into the informal drawing room and closed the door. Karla, the last one to enter, didn’t miss the collective sigh of relief from the males.
“So,” Jaenelle said, giving them all her best unsure-but-game grin. “Who’s up for a few games of cradle?”
Karla leaned against the door, looking at the witches before her. Including Jaenelle, there were ten adolescent witches in the room, every last one of them a Queen, and strong enough to be a Territory Queen at that. And in another there were seven young males, four of whom were Warlord Princes. An interesting First Circle, indeed.
And throughout the afternoon, as they laughed and teased, shared spells and stories, complained about males and commiserated about moon-times, Karla kept glancing around, half-expecting to see Dinah and Triela lining up to meet Kaetien and Prince Smoke, or Leda and Emma trading good-natured insults with Khary and Jonah. Ben and Ender would fit in easily, standing near Aaron and Chaosti having an intense but quiet conversation, while Jon and Leto would join the circle of males helplessly trying to figure out the easiest way to handle a grumpy and determined witch. She could easily picture Jack and Merlin trying to claim some food from the buffet before the coven descended upon the refreshment like locusts.
Perhaps her decision whether to leave Fandom permanently would be harder than she thought.
(NFB, NFI, OOC = love. Adapted primarily from Chapter 6, Part 7 of Heir to the Shadows by Anne Bishop. I love my crack!canon! There were going to be three of these, but her interview with Saetan will just have to wait till next week. Karla will be back bright and early tomorrow (Monday) morning. Which is probably when I'll pick up pings again)
“Hex me? How?” Morton called back. He was taking the drive at a brisk walk. He could afford to be so casual; his legs were much longer than hers. “You sound like you’ve been reading novels again.” He knew better than to suggest that after three years, Jaenelle could wait a few more minutes. Karla was seriously pissy about running late. Still, he stood by his decision to let Karla sleep in.
As if she could read his thoughts (and Morton made sure his inner barriers were still high) she turned to yell “Why would you do that?! Especially on today of all days!”
“Because I’d rather have you bitch at me for a few hours because we were late than have you be bitchy all day because you were over-tired,” he said casually. He could say things like that right now because she almost certainly wasn’t going to turn around to kick him. And as long as he stayed out of teeth and leg-reach for the next few hours, he’d be fine.
Finally, Karla reached the doorstep. Unsurprisingly, SaDiablo Hall was a grand and imposing edifice, stately and old with well-kept grounds. Karla could almost sense the dark power emanating from it. She straightened her clothing and hair while she waited for Morton to catch up with her.
“Dear cousin,” she said sweetly as he approached the stone steps leading to the great double doors. Knowing that tone, Morton flinched. Karla stomped on the heel of one of her boots, and smiled as the slim silver blade protruded from the toe. “Kiss kiss,” was all she said.
It was enough. Morton took a step back and silently resolved not to test her patience any further today. “You still needed the sleep,” he muttered rebelliously, watching her slide the knife back into its hidden compartment in her sole.
Karla ignored him as she banged on the door. Hard. With her fist enhanced just a wee bit with Craft. She paused for a moment, and then banged again.
The door was jerked open by a Red-Jeweled Warlord who was also a…butler? Odd. Still, she didn’t stop to pay him any mind, other than giving him a sharp smile as she swept by him and into the great hall. She stopped where the sunlight coming from the lead glass window above the double doors produced a natural spotlight. Tall and slim, she wore severely tailored, dark blue trousers, a loose jacket, and her new boots, a gift from Triela. Her white-blond hair hung around her face in waves. Darknened eyebrows and lashes framed ice-blue eyes.
“Sisters,” she said, giving the two Queens in the room a perfunctory nod that couldn’t quite be called insolent. They weren’t Jaenelle, so they were of moderate importance at best. Of slightly more interest was the Eyerien who wore the Ebon-Gray--Andulvar, Jaenelle’s voice echoed in her mind-but most of her attention was on the handsome and distinguished-looking Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince. This was Saetan, the High Lord of Hell, her benefactor and Jaenelle’s guardian. Her eyes raked over him from head to toe.
“Well,” she drawled, “you’re not bad-looking for a corpse.”
Before he could reply, Jaenelle’s serene but amused voice said, “You’re only half-right, darling. He’s not a corpse.”
Karla whirled toward the informal drawing room, where Jaenelle leaned against the doorway, her fingers hooked in a long, flowing jacket thrown over one shoulder. She was wearing soft, full, sapphire pants and a skimpy gold-and-silver top.
Karla let out a screech that probably raised the hairs on the backs of the males’ necks.
“You’ve got tits!” Karla pulled open her blue jacket, revealing a silver, just as skimpy top. “So do I, if you call these lovely little bee stings tits.” Smiling her wickedest smile, she turned back to Saetan. “What do you think?”
“Are you asking if I think they’re lovely or if I think they’re bee stings?” Saetan answered immediately.
Karla closed the jacket, crossed her arms, and narrowed her ice-blue eyes. “Sassy, isn’t he?”
“Well, he is a Warlord Prince,” Jaenelle replied.
Ice-blue eyes met sapphire eyes. Both girls smiled.
Karla shrugged. “Oh, all right. I’ll be a polite guest.” She stepped up to Saetan, making sure to step on his toes with her boots, and that wicked smile bloomed. “Kiss kiss.”
Saetan stood there impassively, refusing to wince, with something like an air of resignation about him. Karla decided that she liked him immensely.
She turned away from him and headed for Jaenelle. “You’ve got some explaining to do. I had to figure out all those damn spells by myself.” She swept Jaenelle into the drawing room and closed the door. “Shh!” she said, grinning. “I want to hear what happens next.” Opening the door a crack, she and Jaenelle clustered around the door. eavesdropping.
“Lord Morton,” Saetan was saying. “I only have one thing to say to you.”
“Sir?” Morton said with a fair bit of trepidation.
He gave the boy a rueful smile. “You have my heartfelt sympathy.”
Morton almost melted with relief. “Thank you, sir. I could use it. Having Karla like you is better than not having her not like you, but…” he shrugged.
“Yes,” Saetan said dryly. “I have a friend who has a similar effect on me.” He chuckled softly at Morton’s look of astonishment. “Boyo, even being me doesn’t make a difficult witch any less difficult.”
Karla eased the door closed. “Is he talking about you?” she asked Jaenelle.
Jaenelle just gave a little, silver-coated laugh. “Probably,” she said with a smile. “But maybe not. He did just meet with Titian, the Dea al Mon Queen of the Harpies. And spent the day with Cassandra.”
“The frigid, bitchy Black-Jeweled Queen back there?” Karla asked, jerking her thumb towards the great hall. “The other one seemed happy enough to see me, but that one just looked at me like I was an affront to her dignity.”
“And were you?” Jaenelle asked, grinning.
“Maaaay-be,” Karla replied, before engulfing Jaenelle in a giant hug. “I missed you so very, very much,” she whispered. “Thank the Darkness you’re okay.”
Jaenelle hugged her back, just as hard, wiping away Karla’s fears that the years had changed her, changed their friendship, made Karla less important to Jaenelle. Karla was unsurprised to feel tears slipping down her cheeks. Just being near Jaenelle made the pains and sorrows of the past few years slip away. Jaenelle would fix everything.
BANG!
Both girls jumped backwards, raising shields. Their eyes met and they giggled. “I think you’ve got another guest,” Karla said impishly. They poked their heads out of the drawing room to see another witch enter. She had dark red hair flowing down her back, flashing green eyes, and a swirling gown that looked like an autumn woods in motion. “Morghann,” Jaenelle whispered. She’d been heading towards Saetan but veered as soon as she saw them.
Grinning, she held up a cloth bundle. “I wasn’t sure if we would end up in the stables or digging in the garden, so I brought some real clothes.” She had a strong Scelt accent. Behind her, Saetan looked a bit grumpy upon hearing that. Karla, who’d been a bit unnerved at the prospect of meeting Jaenelle’s other friends, cheered up immediately. This witch couldn’t be all bad.
Morghann entered the drawing room, closing the door behind her, and gave Jaenelle a tight hug. A similar expression of love, relief, and gratitude crossed her face as she did. She opened her eyes to meet Karla’s and gave her a brief nod. Jaenelle was the center of her life, too. “Now go greet Khary,” she ordered as she drew away from Jaenelle. “He’ll never forgive me if I keep you in here.”
Jaenelle nodded and slipped through the door. Morghann turned to Karla and eyed her. Karla eyed her back; she was a Queen, but not a Black Widow or a Healer and she wore the Purple-Dusk. “So, are we going to decide to be friends or will this devolve into a catfight?” Morghann asked, her voice deceptively mild.
Karla gave a show of considering it, then gave Morghann a wicked smile. “Well, Jaenelle will probably be upset if we fight, and the boyos will be upset if we don’t fight in front of them, so it’ll probably be better if we agree now to like one another. And save our catfighting in case Jaenelle has a friend who proves to be less wonderful than we are.”
Morghann laughed. “I like the way you think. And since I’ve yet see Jaenelle be wrong about a person, I think we’re in for a catfight-free afternoon.”
“Unless someone skimps on the buffet,” Karla added cheerfully.
Another knock sent them scurrying to the drawing room door to see who had arrived. They must have appeared on the landing web within seconds of one another and approached the door en masse because Karla knew this group didn’t come from the same Territories. There were satyrs from Pandar, who Jaenelle introduced as Zylona and Jonah. The small, pixie-faced darling with the dusky hair and iridescent wings was Katrine from the Paw Islands. There was a tall, black-haired, gray-eyed youth named Aaron and a hazel-eyed brunette named Sabrina, both from Dharo. Two tawny-skinned, drak-striped youngsters were Grezande and Elan from Tigrelan. And a petite witch with a lucsciously rounded figure, soft brown eyes, and dark brown hair shyly approached the High Lord and introduced herself as Kalush from Nharkhava. Saetan wore an expression that suggested he was already pitying her father.
Beale, looking slightly dazed, started to close the door when it was yanked out of his grasp. And the centaurs walked in.
The young witch, Astor, headed for the girls. The Warlord Prince continued down the great hall until he was standing in front of Saetan. “High Lord.” The greeting sounded more like a challenge.
What would have happened next could have gotten ugly, except Jaenelle was there, stepping into that frozen silence, balling her hand into a fist, and driving it into Sceron’s upper arm. He responded by grabbing her and lifting her up until they were eye to eye.
“That was for not saying hello,” she said, and the room relaxed.
…And then tensed back up again as people looked towards the door. Next to her, Morghann gasped.
In the doorway stood the Children of the Wood. The Dea al Mon. Karla laughed at herself for ever once confusing Leda with one of them.
They both had the slender, sinewy build that was as inherent to their race as their delicately pointed ears. Both wore their silver hair long and unbound. Both had the large, forest-blue eyes, although the girl’s had a touch more silver. Gabrielle, another Black-Widow Healer Queen, like Jaenelle and Karla, stopped just inside the door. Chaosti, a Warlord Prince, continued forward slowly, silently, bringing the aggressiveness and territoriality that was part of all Warlord Princes boiling to the surface. The other males stepped back a pace. Saetan, Andulvar, Aaron, Sceron, and Elan all stepped forward, rising to the challenge Chaosti was offering.
And again, Jaenelle was there, averting the bloodshed that was sure to ensue if all six-or even just two-of the Warlord Princes in the room rose to the killing edge.
“Chaosti,” Jaenelle said in her midnight voice. He slowly turned to face her. “He’s my father, Chaosti,” Witch said. “By my choice.”
After a long moment, Chaosti placed a hand over his heart. “By your choice, cousin,” he replied in a deceptively quiet tenor voice.
Witch gave him one more look to be sure he’d gotten the message, and then Jaenelle turned and lead the girls into the informal drawing room and closed the door. Karla, the last one to enter, didn’t miss the collective sigh of relief from the males.
“So,” Jaenelle said, giving them all her best unsure-but-game grin. “Who’s up for a few games of cradle?”
Karla leaned against the door, looking at the witches before her. Including Jaenelle, there were ten adolescent witches in the room, every last one of them a Queen, and strong enough to be a Territory Queen at that. And in another there were seven young males, four of whom were Warlord Princes. An interesting First Circle, indeed.
And throughout the afternoon, as they laughed and teased, shared spells and stories, complained about males and commiserated about moon-times, Karla kept glancing around, half-expecting to see Dinah and Triela lining up to meet Kaetien and Prince Smoke, or Leda and Emma trading good-natured insults with Khary and Jonah. Ben and Ender would fit in easily, standing near Aaron and Chaosti having an intense but quiet conversation, while Jon and Leto would join the circle of males helplessly trying to figure out the easiest way to handle a grumpy and determined witch. She could easily picture Jack and Merlin trying to claim some food from the buffet before the coven descended upon the refreshment like locusts.
Perhaps her decision whether to leave Fandom permanently would be harder than she thought.
(NFB, NFI, OOC = love. Adapted primarily from Chapter 6, Part 7 of Heir to the Shadows by Anne Bishop. I love my crack!canon! There were going to be three of these, but her interview with Saetan will just have to wait till next week. Karla will be back bright and early tomorrow (Monday) morning. Which is probably when I'll pick up pings again)