Look Beyond What You See

I foolishly assumed that the party would end after Zinaida fainted, but Wesley simply appeared from the crowd, scooped Zinaida up, and carried her away, muttering to Dmitri that it was now his responsibility to keep everyone entertained, at least until he and his wife recovered from the understandable shock of all of their secrets being made known to me at once.

“And please, for the love of God, let’s try not to have any more fallout. Your mother will be more than upset enough as things are,” Wesley pleaded. Dmitri and I just exchanged glances, and then Dmitri replied with the “Of course, Father” that was expected while intending that we would simply return to our former acting routine. And so we find ourselves now in conversation with Nadezhda and Torcuil, the orange-suited man with a heavy brogue who unleashed so many secrets.

“A pity ’bout all this mess, don’tcha think?” Torcuil remarks casually, eyes sparking with mischief.

“And you wouldn’t have had anything to do with the mess, now would you?” Nadezhda chides, her cloudy eyes stormy.

“Blame me, if you must blame someone, Nadya,” Dmitri urges calmly, “for Torcuil and I spoke of this very thing before the party even started. I thought it asinine that my fiancée should be kept ignorant as they were trying to do, but I was bound by oath not to tell her, so to maintain my sacred honor I inquired of others to aid me. To that end, I believe I owe you my gratitude for your help in this endeavor, whether you meant it as such or not.”

“Well, indeed we have been working towards the same purpose,” Nadezhda, apparently also called Nadya, replies. She is trying with reasonable success to refrain from being flustered.

“An’ all wit’ such brilliant acting skills,” Torcuil adds with a brilliant smile and a nod my way, making me blush slightly. “I knew ye, Dmitri, were quite th’ actor, but I’d no idea yer fiancée was yer equal i’ th’ art.”

“She has had a tougher childhood than mine by far, I imagine, and earned her skill,” Dmitri explains, raising his glass of champagne in a toast. The rest of us follow his lead, which is one of many toasts that have been had so far this evening. I’m beginning to wonder how much more champagne I can handle before it begins to show in my behavior in ways that I would prefer it did not.

“I’m most interested i’ the sort of upbringing ye’ve ’ad, Aerys,” Torcuil continues, eyes on me.

“You ought not be,” I reply with a laugh. “Highly uninteresting, for the most part. I was kept mostly to my studies, which included everything girls of noble families generally study, with extra attention to music, as that is my specialty. In my spare time my favorite sister and I would pull pranks on others of the household, often cooperating with the servants. And so my life has been until Dmitri and his parents came to take me away from my grandparents’ chateau not so long ago.”

“Less than a week, all told,” Nadezhda clarifies. “It must have all been such a shock to you. They really never told you that you were to be wed?”

“It is no surprise, really. My two elder sisters received the same treatment on their eighteenth birthdays.” Dmitri’s eyes flare and he squeezes my arm painfully; I should not have said that. But the champagne is relaxing my usual circumspection in spite of my best efforts, and I was under the impression that Nadezhda and Torcuil were safe individuals.

“Really, now?” Torcuil inquires, his eyes blazing curiosity. “Do tell. Know ye any more o’ their matches?”

“Next to nothing, and I ought not spread gossip. Why should it interest you, anyway?” Another wrong move, based on the tightening grip on my arm, though I did try to make my response to my fiancé’s liking. Why is he hurting me? I nudge him subtly with my elbow in the hopes that he’ll let go, or at least ease his grip, but I have no such luck.

“Th’ dealings o’ yer grandparents always interest me, as Dmitri’s cousin. I loved me uncle Richard as me own dad, gi’en that mine was ’most ne’er home, always out on business and suchlike. If the wretches ’ave been ’urting other families as they’ve ’urt ours--”

“Calm your temper, Torcuil. Your name may mean ‘Thor’s cauldron,’ but you needn’t boil his rage all over the ballroom,” Nadezhda chides icily. “In case you weren’t listening before, Aerys’s family hasn’t told her much of anything. If she knew not of her own arranged marriage until the very evening her fiancé claimed her, why should she know anything of how her sisters’ marriages came about? Let us leave the young couple to themselves. I believe another round of dancing is about to begin.” And with that Nadezhda drags Torcuil away, despite the fiery orange-suited man’s protests.

“Stop hurting me,” I hiss at Dmitri, swatting at his hand in its tight grip just above my elbow. Dmitri’s eyes widen and darken and he immediately releases my arm.

“I’m sorry, Aerys. I didn’t realise--” he stammers.

“What was that about, anyway? Everything was fine until he asked about my family--”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” My eyes bore into him, demanding answers that he seems ashamed to give as he squirms uncomfortably under my hard gaze. “I thought he was someone you trusted, someone it wouldn’t matter if I gave answers to.”

“And you were right.”

“So, why...?”

“I was.... The way he looked at you.... I....”

“You were jealous.” I can hardly believe this, but the red tint on his cheekbones and the way he won’t meet my gaze tell me I’ve correctly identified the cause of his strange behavior.

“I know it’s stupid,” he mutters, glaring at his shoes as though this situation is their fault. “But I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s all right.” He was jealous? Because his cousin took too much interest in me? What nonsense is this?

“It’s not all right. I hurt you. I never wanted to--”

“So make it up to me. Dance with me.” As if on cue the orchestra resumes playing, and I know that I have Nadezhda to thank for that. Sharp-eyed as she was, I have no doubt she knew Dmitri’s thoughts and intervened to prevent another blowup. Someone should thank her later. Dmitri obligingly maneuvers us into the proper position for the waltz that’s playing and then we start drifting about in time with the music.

“You’re not angry?” he asks after an uncomfortable silence between us.

“I don’t know what to think,” I confess. “It would only make sense to me for you to be jealous as part of the charade we were playing earlier.” It’s the honest truth, though his reaction makes me think that perhaps I am too naïve. His eyes turn dark, darker than I’ve seen them before. What emotion causes this reaction?

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” he sighs, pulling me closer to him. The strange swirling within me that happens when he and I get close returns with a vengeance, stronger than ever before (perhaps through the effect of the champagne). “Even after so many hints, so many moments when your magic rages within you like this--and I can sense it, make no mistake--” His breath is hot, tickles my ear. I tremble and hardly know why. Somehow our feet keep moving in the prescribed patterns, keeping time. The orchestra’s beat is the same as that of my heart.

“What are you getting at?”

“So naïve, so innocent.” Tongue on my earlobe, punctuating his speech. In public, Dmitri?

“Is it any wonder?” I retort, my voice firm though little more than a whisper. I could not speak louder without quavering. Mouth stills over my ear. Hot breath fans out. Knees weaken. How are we still dancing? I hardly move of my own accord, yet we float over the dance floor as though nothing at all is occurring between us.

“Of course not. But they should have told you, warned you, given you some idea....” His hand on the small of my back is hot, burning. I arch away from it and end up pressed against him, no longer dancing, just caught in his flaming embrace, uncomfortably warm, uncomfortable; and yet never wanting it to end.

“About what?” My eyes search his for answers. Dark flames. Lust. But something more. From the necklace? He draws closer. I am mesmerized. A sudden burst of jubilant sound from the orchestra, if slightly off-key, makes me leap from his arms for sheer shock and a nearby couple chortles at my expense. Dmitri’s face spells disappointment. My heart hammers in my chest and the swirling is chilled and confused. My head spins. Too much excitement and too much drink in one night. That’s all this is.

“Aerys, are you all right?” Dmitri inquires, dark flames suddenly replaced by concern.

“I should like to lie down,” I answer carefully. So difficult to remember how to speak. Voice sounds so far away. In an instant he is carrying me, as though I am already his bride.

“I’ll take you to your room. The guests will understand.”

“You’re sure?”

“It’s my fault, anyway. I should have known better...” He continues, but it is all a jumble to my ears. I want to ask what he means, but everything swims before my eyes and moments later a blissful emptiness engulfs me.

***~O~***