Look Beyond What You See

My dear sister Kyla,

Your last letter has greatly disconcerted me. I find it strange that one such as you, who always scorned the things of God and the Church, should now so strongly turn to faith for solace. Understand, I have no objection to your faith, but rather to your circumstances. Does not your dear Weston have any power to protect you from his parents? Dearest sister, I implore you, charge him with this: If he truly loves you, he will do everything he can to protect you from such misery as that which I fear you must currently experience. Please do not be angry with me for encouraging this course of action; I am simply concerned about you, as any sister and friend would be after receiving a letter from you such as your last one.

On a slightly brighter note, the revelations brought to me in your last letter, about how your marriage came about, where you are, what your in-laws’ social standing is, and the like were most welcome, though I do deplore that their scorn towards you originates from some haughtiness pertaining to class and circumstances of birth. My fiancé, Dmitri, and I are trying to piece together the tangled web our grandparents have woven, and such information has been most helpful in our endeavors. But now an enormous distraction has come up, and I fear we will not be able to continue piecing this puzzle together for some time.

Dearest sister, have you heard that the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria has been assassinated by a Serb? As well connected as your family is, I have little reason to believe that this is new to you, but have they discussed in front of you what implications this may have? Oh, Kyla, the entire world could go to war, if all of the alliances that entangle Europe are called upon to resolve this conflict and all of those countries determine to drag their colonies into things, which would of course be the intelligent thing to do strategically. You must promise to keep me informed of whatever the British decide to do with India, should a war break out, and what your family’s role in this disaster, should it indeed erupt in warfare and therefore disaster, will be.

As for my family’s role, that remains uncertain. Dmitri’s mother is Russian nobility and his father British nobility. I believe, after studying the network of alliances, that they shall fight on the same side if war breaks out, and fight they will, for this is a family of warriors, of a sort. We currently reside in Switzerland, traditionally a neutral territory, so I do not fear overmuch for our safety, at least until we are called to battle. Thus far the only thing that is certain is that our--my and Dmitri’s--wedding will be postponed.

As far as I know, we have not yet begun on invitations or a guest list. Dmitri and I have only just last week managed to wrest the planning process from his mother’s grip into our own hands. She means well, his mother does, but she has terribly antiquated ideas about women, which is ironic, considering that she herself belongs to the fairer sex. We haven’t made much progress yet. The ceremony will be held in the family chapel, and our decorations will be in a theme of fire and water, and we’ve more or less selected a menu for the party after the ceremony. I believe Dmitri and I will be interviewing men of God sometime this week to select one for the honour of marrying us. I wish you could be here to help us plan. You’ve always been good at things like this, so much better than I am. I’ve never been much for ceremonies and pomp and circumstance of any kind.

But I will not push my luck. The one thing I want for my wedding, more than anything else, is that you would deign to become my Matron of Honour. I can think of no better way to get anyone to agree to our seeing each other, and I do miss you so. Please, dearest sister and friend, please speak with your husband and find a way to accept my request, and if you can, keep this information from our dear relatives back at Grandmother’s chateau, and certainly from our grandparents. I intend that none of them will be present in any capacity at my wedding, if their presence can be avoided. I mistrust them deeply, especially Grandmother. Did you know that she is a sorceress? One of no small talent or ability, I’m told, and she has used her power as well as her wit to protect Grandfather from the natural consequences of his gambling problem.

Speaking of which, the story of how he fell out with my fiancé’s family is really quite atrocious. It seems that Grandfather was low on cash and cheated horrendously at a game of cards with Dmitri’s grandfather, and that poor man--having lost his fortune and most likely his honour, being cheated in such a way--took his own life as a result! I was mortified when I found out and have apologised most profusely for Grandfather’s dreadful misconduct. It seems that I, along with a vast sum of money, am the restitution for this wickedness on the part of our relatives. The idea of being restitution is supremely insulting, at least to my mind, but practically speaking I have no cause for complaint. Dmitri is wonderful, and I am well treated, for the most part.

Goodness, I have written far more than I expected to. I hope I have not bored you with my ramblings. Do write back to me soon, dearest Kyla. I miss you so much, and I am most anxious to hear whether you may be permitted to be my Matron of Honour, and about your situation as pertains to the conflict that may erupt between the European powers at any time. I am trying to be optimistic, but in my heart I fear for the worst. Be safe.

Always your loving sister,

Aerys

I wish I could just see her now and tell her everything in person. I was going to tell her everything I’ve discovered about myself and my fiancé and his family, the whole truth, but Dmitri and I talked about it a bit earlier, when we were on the roof, after Zinaida’s scream shattered the illusion of having our own world up there. He’s gone to talk with her and his father, to see what she’s upset about now (the war, or postponing the wedding, or both). He told me I should take the time while he’s gone to write to Kyla. We decided that the war, the wedding, and the revelations about my grandparents would be enough for poor Kyla, in her current situation, and that any information about my own magical talent and Dmitri’s family’s species will have to be put off. I might have alluded to them rather too much; I’m certain Kyla will pick up the leads I’ve left and question me about them, and when her next letter arrives I shall have to steel myself to tell her everything and endure whatever storm may follow. I pray that her sisterly instincts will overcome this new religiosity, but with Kyla under such duress as she seems to be, I prepare for the worst while I hope for the best.

“Aerys?” Malina asks, poking her head into my study.

“What is it, Malina?” I reply as I fold the letter to Kyla and seal it with a dab of wax. No fixing it now, if indeed it needs fixing. I’ll simply write the necessary address information on it and give it to Dmitri to mail for me the next time I see him.

“Their Excellencies wish to see you in the dining room now. The evening meal is to be held early this evening, on account of the news and the state it’s thrown everyone into.”

“Oh, splendid. Thank you for informing me. I’ll be there straightaway.” Malina chuckles grimly at my sarcasm.

“I don’t envy you that one bit. Zinaida is in a positively revolting mood.”

“I’m not a bit surprised. She’s never quite congenial, and these are hardly circumstances that show her to her best advantage, which is all the more reason that I should be on my way downstairs. Have a better evening than I’ll be having.”

“I shall do my best. Is that a letter? I can take it to the post for you, if you like. It’ll save your fiancé the trouble. My sweetheart handles all the postal services here.”

“That would be very kind of you, thank you.” I hand off the letter to her on my way out the door. I trust her well enough, and I have other things to worry about at the moment, namely how I’m going to survive this meal. Dmitri and I have been fortunate enough to evade having meals with both of his parents present of late; in fact, we’ve managed to eat dinner with just his father on numerous occasions. He’s far more interesting to talk to than Zinaida, and far more congenial, besides.

“Wait a second! India? You know someone in India?” Malina inquires as she dashes after me with the letter packet in hand.

“My sister, one of them, lives there with her husband and his family. She was--is--my best friend. Why is this so exciting?”

“I’ve always wanted to travel there. It seems like such an amazing place, from everything I’ve heard. But if war breaks out, I won’t be able to travel until it’s over, at the very least. Such a pity. I’ve almost saved up enough money for the trip.”

“Maybe, if my sister accepts my request that she be my Matron of Honour, you can travel to India to be her travelling companion, so that her in-laws cannot object on the grounds of not wanting to send a servant away for as long as she would be here.” Malina’s eyes light up at the idea.

“Simply say the word and I’ll go! I’d love to see it, even for just a little while.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. It could be the most valuable service you ever render anyone, to get my sister here.”

“I would be glad to be of such service to you, for such a reward.” And with that we go our separate ways. Making use of the secret passageways, I make it to the dining room in as much time as it would have taken for me to reach the same place using routes of normal people, had I left immediately when Malina informed me of the summons. As I expected, Zinaida is a splendid misery, with her husband solicitously on her arm and her son sulking at the opposite end of the table. I take my place next to Dmitri after making a particularly deep curtsey to Zinaida in the hopes that it will soothe her injured and finicky temper.

“But darling,” Zinaida pouts, “if we postpone the wedding, after all that’s transpired, people will--”

“--Be too busy lobbing bombs at each other to care even the slightest bit about etiquette and notions of propriety,” Welsey finishes irritably. I think they’ve had this conversation a few times before.

“There’s no guarantee that a war will even break out! You’re getting all worried for nothing,” Zinaida argues.

“But what if it does? Do you really want to be stuck with a half-planned wedding in the middle of a war?”

“It makes more sense to have the wedding as soon as possible, before a war can break out, than to wait until after the war, if a war even breaks out, runs through to completion!”

“And why might that be? Aerys and I are both quite young. More time to get to know each other and get used to the idea of getting married could only help us,” Dmitri reasons. “I’m sure waiting a few years won’t much affect you.”

“But the marriage was agreed upon as restitution to procure another male heir to succeed in the Berkeley line! You’ll want as much time as possible to work on that, I’m sure--”

“Begging your pardon?!” I growl. Zinaida jumps and looks at me as though she’s just now realised that I’m in the room. Dmitri squeezes my hand under the table. I will not be comforted. Not only did she use that awful r word to describe the origins of my relationship with Dmitri, she actually dared to bring up the prospect of childbearing--when I’ve made it abundantly clear that just the idea of getting married scares me!--and there will be hell to pay.

“Aerys! When did you get here?” Zinaida gasps. She’s a horrible actress.

“As soon as I could after receiving your summons. Perhaps next time, if you don’t want me to hear something you have to say, you should neglect to invite me to your family discussions.” Dmitri’s grip on my hand tightens. I ignore him.

“Aerys, dear, I only meant--”

“That you desire to rush me into a marriage I am not entirely prepared for to sooner satisfy your desire for grandchildren. I’ve gathered as much. Perhaps you were unaware that the only thing that scares me more than the implications of marriage is the process of pregnancy and bearing children? It will be a miracle if I am sufficiently prepared to be married by the date our wedding is currently set for. Children, I dearly hope, will be several years in coming.”

“You can’t be serious! Why, every woman’s desire is for marriage and children of her own!”

“Forgive me for not conforming to your ideals of womanhood.”

“The terms of the contract state that you must bear a male child--”

“At some point in my life, as though a contract could control when or how! Not necessarily before I turn nineteen!”

“Ladies, ladies, settle down,” Wesley intercedes. “I thought we could have a nice family meal together instead of screaming at each other, and I intend to have a nice family supper without any screaming at each other, or even talk of war or marriage or any other controversial subjects. I have made my decision on the matter, and the wedding will be postponed until such a time as I see fit, which will be when international violence does not pose a significant threat to our family connexions and ourselves.”

“But Wesley--” Zinaida begins, eyes swirling dangerously.

“Enough.” Wesley’s eyes crackle and a rumble of thunder sounds a warning outside. “Sit down and let’s have supper.”

I’m trembling with repressed emotion, seated beside Dmitri, as Zinaida slowly sits down while glowering at her husband. I can hear gale force winds whipping against the walls of the mansion. Dmitri leans over to me, hot breath tickling my ear.

“Among the things we must practise is the way you deal with my mother when she is unreasonable,” he whispers. I can’t hear them, but I know raindrops are pelting the ground and the roof as I slowly begin to release my fury.

“Because you handled yourself so admirably with her the morning after your father caught us together in my bed,” I hiss in reply. “You had had enough ridiculousness that day, and I have had enough today. I promise I will do better under less stressful conditions.”

“You must learn to be more controlled even under conditions such as these, as must I. If a war breaks out, times will not get any less stressful. My father will have enough to deal with, between war plans and wedding plans, without you and my mother constantly sparring. Do this for his sake and for mine.”

I sigh heavily. Much as I hate to admit it, he has a point. I would want him to try to get along with my family, as well, even as infuriating as they all are. But much as I like Wesley, I cannot pretend that consideration for him plays any significant role in the reply I must make.

“For your sake alone, I will try.”

***~O~***