Sapphire Tempest

As the prismatic glow fades out, Celina moves to Alice. "Solace? And the children? Are they near or can you arrange a visit? Tomorrow would be fine."

"Yes," Merlin, who is stark naked by this point, adds, drawing the attention of the ladies to himself unintentionally. "How is the Lady Solace? Has she had any recurrences of her fainting sickness?"

Alice looks over at Merlin when he speaks and flushes, then her gaze comes back to rest firmly on Celina. "Lady Solace is fine, as far as I know. She has been since she and the children arrived. The children may be in bed by this time, but perhaps you can talk to them all tomorrow. They're staying in the palace. You could probably talk to Lord Lucas or Princess Florimel now, though."

Merlin looks like he might have something to say, but defers to Celina. Or perhaps he doesn't want to say it in front of Alice.

"Tomorrow will do," Celina nods. "I spoke briefly to Lucas and Aunt Florimel on my arrival. Alice, we need to have a military escort for Queen Moire round the clock. It would be disastrous if something happened to her during my father's absence. Can Lance arrange this? Is there a force of women in the military to draw for this?"

Alice shakes her head. "I don't think there are many women, but I'll ask him." She moves to the door to use the bellpull to summon Lance, and glances back before pulling it to see whether Merlin will be dressed by the time Lance arrives.

It seems to finally occur to Merlin that he's made a strategic error in undressing in front of Alice, and he flushes momentarily, but controls the reaction almost immediately. He finishes drying off quickly and hastens to put on the new clothes she brought for him.

Celina sets a standard of acceptance of Merlin's pacing and demeanor. She is aware of Alice's concerns but does everything by stance and expression to show Merlin could do much worse without her batting an eye.

"Thank you," she responds to Alice agreeing to talk to Lance. She decides Merlin has something to tell her and he won't with Alice here. "Please let me know as soon as Lance arrives, Alice. Merlin and I will be in conference."

And when Alice glides out, she watches Merlin finish dressing. "You had a comment about Solace? Or something?" She grins, "It's very good to see you again."

"It is good to be with you, too, sister. I have been worried about you." Merlin takes a moment to look down and start to button his shirt. "Did you know that Martin asked me to try to determine whether Solace had been attacked by sorcery when she collapsed? I found nothing, but he suggested later that she might have been attacked through a mirror."

"That is possible, but usually the mirror breaks as it takes harm in any flaw basic to its craft," Celina replies. "I will examine Solace tho' to see if at this late day I can see anything about her that is failing or cursed." She watches him a moment more. "But I would think Solace watched over by Florimel and Lucas would be shielded from all harm. Is there something I don't know about Solace that would make her a target?"

"Did you know that she is rumored to be King Eric's daughter? And therefore sister to Cambina?" Merlin asks meaningfully.

Celina stands stunned by the idea on several counts. She wonders immediately if Florimel's close association with the blood of Faiella might mean that her aunt is here now on some involved continuation of the war years. "No," she admits slowly. "I did not have any idea." It registers that Lucas could know. Or would that be unlikely?

Her own mixed feelings about discovering that Khela is family churn through her again.

She lifts her hands to massage at the back of her neck. This Paris trip is a tsunami of intrigue and reversals and she needs to really work out the tensions. Khela's smile flits through Celina's inner landscape bringing joy and sorrow anew. "I didn't know." This time, she realizes she is defending herself aloud. Khela. Love. Useless really.

Celina knows she is cursed.

She throws herself back into thinking of others first. "We need to protect her until we know more about Cambina's death. No more catastrophies while we are charged with the defense of Paris." The children. It strikes hard from nowhere. Lir's blood. Children of Lucas and Solace. She groans aloud and rubs her neck harder. "Merlin, what say you? We get everyone into the palace for a few days if they are lodged elsewhere?"

"I think that is a very good idea. Because there is danger, we should gather together." Merlin sits down on a dry couch to pull on his footwear. "If you would like, I can send a note to Lucas to request him to visit. But ... if it is all right, I would prefer that you deal with his mother." He adds the last a bit abashedly.

"Agreed." Celina nods thinking ahead. "Lance first, guards appropriate to Mother's status. Then I'll see Aunt Florimel. I may ask her a few questions that no one else seems to care about but me."

She laughs because anything else requires thinking about the woman she wants to hold close. She doesn't ask Merlin about her. He would give no answer that satisfied now.

Celina lets Merlin dress, keeping her back against the door to the chamber---even if Lance arrives sooner.

Lancelot arrives not long after Merlin has finished dressing. A page announces him; it's similar to but different from Rebma, as if in a distorted mirror.

"Lady Celina," says Lancelot. "I understand you are Regent in your father's stead?" He glances at Merlin.

Celina begins to clarify and...

"Yes." Merlin says it clearly and flatly. "My sister is Regent, and I am here to support and aid her as needed."

...how did that happen?

Celina watches Lance, even though she's powerfully drawn to whirling to glare at her brother.

Lancelot takes this in stride. He bows deeply to Celina. "Then my sword is yours for the duration, Lady."

"I never doubted it would be so," Celina actually thinks that makes some sense. "My concern is that we find female warriors of sufficient skill and savvy to act as honor guard for the..." she stops and starts, "for her highness, Moire." Celina avoids the use of 'majesty' deliberately planting a Parisian acceptance of Corwin as a higher rank. It may prove prophetic as well. "I need two or three people protecting Moire day and night and reporting directly to my brother and me. Can you deliver on that?"

"I can find the guards, but not all of them will be women." Lance appears to be casting about for a polite way to say this. "Lady, amazon warriors are not much thought of in your father's court."

"I am so not surprised," Celina says. "If they are a bit salty, much the better will I sleep." Finally she rounds on Merlin. "Anything else for Lance?"

Merlin gives her an odd look at her first few words. "Keep an extra watch on my father's friend Lady Hardwind, Sir Lancelot," he suggests.

Lance bows to him and to Celina, and unless they have further instructions, heads off to obey their commands.

And once Lance leaves, Celina turns slowly on her brother. "What in the world was that all about? You know that Corwin was very specific in your leading responsibilities here." She closes the distance to stand nose to nose with him. A small smile begins.

Merlin folds his arms. "My father must learn to appreciate you. And I will not be bent to his will in taking Paris any more than I will be bent to my mother's." His jaw sets in a way that reminds Celina somewhat of some of the other men on her mother's side of her family: Martin or Jerod, perhaps.

The smile becomes a laugh. Celina wraps him with her own arms around his defiant stance and gives him a hug. Her cheek against his is warm with her low laughter. "I think I am a flavor that has no place in Paris or Corwin's appreciation. As far as all that goes, I love you Merlin more than Paris or Corwin put together, so I will play the part you ask." She eases from the embrace, knowing he prefers that.

"And it will free you to keep a secret eye on Moire as I get slowed down by answering to official needs. Lance seemed to have some women in mind, but until I see who will be my mother's honor guard, I'll not feel at ease about her plans to come here to preserve her power."

"I at least am immune to her reproductive intentions, although I gather Cousin Lucas may not be," Merlin agrees. "Is there anything else you wish me to do, Regent of our Father?"

"Martin had a concern and Hannah has asked it of us. I'd like you to check on Lucas' children and his lady wife." Celina answers promptly. "I have a feeling you would have done so anyway. I will certainly need your counsel every day I am tasked with Paris."

She steadies her mind. "And how are Conner and Khela then? What news of the city?"

"The city is under siege by Huon. Jerod was sent to negotiate with Huon on behalf of the family. I do not know how the negotiations are going." Merlin hesitates over the verb momentarily.

"Jerod is more than capable," Celina responds. "Conner? Khela? Are they aware of Jerod's mission or did he only speak to you before going to Huon?"

"Jerod negotiated with Khela. I believe she thinks she has bought him, but I suspect the truth for Jerod is more complex. He carries his own title in the old regime." Merlin spreads his hands and then turns them palm up, as if he expects the gesture to mean something to Celina.

Celina smothers a protest. The idea that Khela would think Jerod 'bought' is absurd to her. The notion that Merlin might judge better on this than Khela is something of an awkward possibility she turns over in her mind.

She decides to shadow mime Merlin's gesture. "What does this mean? 'Empty promises'?"

"I believe Jerod means to deliver on his promises, exactly as spoken, no more and no less. He is not a Lord of Chaos, to promise one thing and do another if it is what he later wills. He is Orderly and will do as he speaks, for the most part. But that is not to say he will correct any--imprecise--impressions he may leave Khela with," Merlin says. "This is the way of Princes of Amber. But Khela is also a Prince of Amber, by descent from Llewella, and so she will hold him to whatever she thinks he said, most likely. This is the tragedy of family strife in Amber."

Before Celina can answer, Merlin adds "Bide, please." After another moment he adds, "Celina, it is Conner." He holds out his hand to her to draw her into the contact.

With a warring flutter of personal anxiety and royal curiousity, she reaches for Merlin.

Before the storm, there is no calm. Huon's forces have prepared their siege and circlement of Rebma, The city has prepared her defences, and Khela's troops have done what they could to spring on Huon unawares.

And yet, all sides are waiting on Jerod's mission, to see what can be avoided. One seer predicts that Huon will die and be instantly reborn, a generation younger. She considers this superior to what could happen. A magician foretells casualties, but thinks they will be from the enemy.

The soldiers spar and train and generally act as if a very dangerous enemy was no more than two valleys over.

With time on his hands, [Conner] runs simulations of the battle trying to run through all possible permutations. His map table is even marked with glyphs on the base and the figures for a scrying of the future though Conner does in mainly as an exercise. This close to Rebma it is likely not to be worth casting especially without Merlin's aid. His sudden departure rankles but there is little Conner can do about it. Whether by his own will or that of another, there is little he can do to investigate it.

Just as the light begins to dim, a soldier approaches Conner. "General, there is a triton asking to speak with you. He's at the guardpost."

Conner looks up from his map table. "I shall come at once. Thank you, Darius isn't it?" Conner makes it a point to know the names of those he deals with by diplomatic reflex. He is treated to one of Conner's smiles and then the General is brushing by him to see what the Triton has to say. News would be welcome if only to change the routine.

There is a triton at the entrance to the camp, just outside as if it were a magic circle. There is a semi-circle of Tritons inside the camp, watching him. His face is elaborately tattooed, as are his arms and upper chest.

The Triton raises himself up. "You are Conner, he who would bear the green sword?"

Conner's eyes narrow. Either the countermeasures against scrying and spying in the camp are weak or Her Majesty is telling tales to unknown purpose. Neither possibility sits well with him. Still those are concerns for another time. This Triton is clearly of interest to those in the camps. Conner must walk the fine line of establishing his own authority without impugning that of the tattooed Triton.

Conner walks right to the edge of the camp and lets himself float up to meet the Triton's gaze. "I am he." Conner answers. "Who are you and why do you seek the future bearer of the Paxblade?"

"I am Amphiaraus, child of Oecles of the Second Temple, I am granted visions by our Mother Dragon. Beware the Paxblade, Conner! It brings watery death by the Curse of Cneve. It thirsts for blood and prefers the taste of those you are close to."

First one, then all of the surrounding tritons start to make a loud keening noise, low and plaintive, like the drone of a bagpipe. It's hard to hear any more, if there is any more to hear.

Conner lets the keening go on for a moment while he digests this news. The potential blood curse interests him less than the possibility that the Dragon of Rebma is active, aware of him and for reasons unknown wishes to keep him from the Paxblade. Conner utilizes his herald's voice reserved for being heard over the din of banquets or battles.

"Hear me Amphiaraus, child of Oecles!" Conner calls. "Speak to me of your visions! What has the Dragon shown you of the Curse of Cneve?" He demands of the seer.

The keening dies down, but doesn't entirely cease. Amphiaraus speaks over the lull. "The Dark Mother shows much to those with eyes to see, landcreature. You would be wise to heed the warning of the Second Temple, for your fate is dire. I see the bearer of the Paxblade dying in flames."

Conner considers this for a moment. The dubious source of this information made it suspect to say the least. Did he speak in oracular fashion or in literal. "Then you did not see me in this vision, did you?" Conner pressed. "Your vision showed you an indeterminate figure that bears the Paxblade burning." Conner checks the impulse to look back at Khela's tent.

"Mock my words if you will, but I saw you or your mirror image in flames with the blade in hand. Waste not what guidance the Mother shows, for it is a sign of her interest and mercy that such was sent at all to the split-tailed."

The triton's tail comes up beneath it and it begins to scull backwards in the water, sliding further from Conner and the ring of Tritons with him.

"Give thanks to your Mother for me." Conner calls after him. "Tell her this also. She is welcome to speak to me directly. I will dare it if she will." Conner wonders what possessed him to say that even as the words leave his mouth. Though he is no stranger to dealing with powerful mothers, this situation is not quite the same.

The triton continues to scull backwards, eventually leaving without saying more.

Conner watches the fishman retreat until he is lost in the green of the surrounding water. "Well, Amphiaraus, child of Oecles of the Second Temple, I have other oracles to call upon than yours. For all that the cards facilitate between obvious and useless, I at least know the provenance of their advice." Conner murmurs as he returns to his tent. For once, Conner knows the exact question he wants to ask and shuffles the cards thoughtfully as he ponders, "What is my fate if I bind myself to the Paxblade?"

Then he lays out the cards on his map table in between squadrons of Tritons, Rebmans and the forces from above.

Bottom row:

The Unicorn reversed

Drowning in Armor

The Soldier

Middle row:

The Griffin

The King reversed

Top row:

The Smith (sideways)

"Well, at least it isn't death by fire." Conner mutters. As per usual, most of the reading tells him nothing he did not already know. The Pattern blades are a temptation to many and to himself for certain. Were he not underwater, Conner half suspects he would be actually drooling over it. Conner passes over the second card to tap the soldier. To claim the blade is to claim responsibility for the Pattern it is bound to. Duty is a safe prophecy for the future.

Valor vs Tyranny is the choice for all that wield power. The image of king reversed does give him pause. Might that indicated his vow to the King that he must break to claim the Paxblade? That is a conversation that Conner is fine to have delayed for a time. Conner smiles thinly at the Smith capping it all. "So where are you in this, Weyland Smith? I think I see you in this card more than the banality that my actions could be fruitful or destructive."

Conner then turns to the one card in the reading that he did not expect. The Present: Drowning in Armor. Truly a disturbing card for one already underwater. In the context of the rest of the reading, Conner could not make it fit. "I have no safeguards in place against the blade." Conner murmurs. "Could it be Khela withholding it from me until after the battle that is dangerous? Or is all the security around Khela in anticipation of an attack on her or the blade a hindrance and a trap?" Conner picks up the card as if closer examination would find the meaning written in the margins. "You are going to bother me."

Conner gathers up the fortune cards and replaces them in their pouch. He then fishes out his more meager collection of other cards. Merlin or Llewella. If there was news from Rebma or Jerod, no doubt Llewella would contact them. Thus, Conner concentrates on Merlin's card.

Merlin answers at once. "Hello." Then he adds, "Celina, it is Conner."

And a moment later, Celina is part of the contact. She is worried about many things, which plainly leaks through the connection. Her eyes express concern for Conner.

"Are you still with Khela, Conner? What is happening?" Merlin asks.

"And have you heard from Jerod?" Celina adds.

"I am glad to see you both looking so well." Conner begins with a smile. "I have been wondering how your respective journeys have gone." Conner brushes aside a stray lock of red hair that floats before his eyes. "In answer to your questions, not much and nothing. We still sit on the edge of war and Jerod has neither returned nor reported in yet. The only incident of note was the arrival of a Triton prophet that claimed the Dragon showed that I will die in flame. I was touched it went to trouble of warning me." Conner smirks.

"What news on your end?" Conner asks. "Were you able to intercept Moire?"

"Celina can tell that story better than I." Merlin's concern permeates the contact.

"I'm not so conversant with the Cards," Celina begins, "and wonder if I'm doing this properly. I can say that I did catch up to Moire. She is here under the protection of the Sovereign of Paris. There was some confusion at her arrival. But I did get here about the same time. Other matters surrounding her plan to be here are not as clear. I will investigate further."

She smiles, it is less than genuine humor, perhaps an expression of other ironies. "Dragon? I'm not sure I understand?"

"I am not sure either." Conner admits. "All I do know is that a Triton calling itself Amphiaraus, child of Oecles of the Second Temple arrived at Khela's camp. It claimed that that the 'Mother Dragon' granted him visions and that he saw me, bearing the Paxblade, wreathed in flame. For reasons unknown, he decided to share this with me." Conner shrugs. "So either the Dragon that these Tritons are Sons of is active and taking an interest in me or a subset of mystical Tritons is trying some power play of their own."

"I believe that Triton forecast is only a matter of a reflection that you already have decided about," Celina says quite seriously to Conner. "Mother Dragon? How interesting." Her eyes shift focus to some inner debate. "Does this have something to do with the Emerald Death? Or a reflection of?"

Merlin stands silent and lets his sister and his cousin converse.

Celina sighs with an afterthought, "Or is this another Enemy entirely?"

"If by the Emerald Death you mean the Green, I have been wondering the same thing." Conner admits. "Their tactics seem different enough to posit two different creatures but if we are speaking of beings of Chaos who is to say this is not one being with two natures. I made the offer to this prophet that I would speak directly to his Mother if she wished. Perhaps something will come of that. Any family news I should be aware of?" Conner asks.

Celina ponders that long enough that it might seem to Conner she is discarding things to tell him. The truth is she only has a beginners idea of what is important to this family.

"My father has gone to aid King Random. There is trouble at... Tir? Someone unknown may have murdered Cambina." Celina adds, "Because I have to assume that people in this family do not simply die. That would be too easy."

"And the Queen is missing," Merlin adds. "The King our Uncle has gone to search for her."

Conner's face falls as he processes this new information. "Tir is open, Cambina's dead and Vialle is missing?" Conner sums up. "IS that all you know? How did any of this come about?"

The open emotion from Conner surprises Celina a bit but she responds in kind. "Hannah did not say how, for that is part of the mystery of her death and the unexplained absence of the queen. She persuaded my father of the urgency of King Random's need. How indeed. We aren't in a place to find out." Celina doesn't pause much more than a breath.

"I am regent in Paris. Perhaps for a day or two, but time being what it is, I am responsible for Moire right now."

"Paris and Moire are enough to keep anyone busy." Conner agrees absently. "Well, I may be in a position to aid in the search if another eye could make a difference. Merlin, do you have a Trump to lend of Corwin or the King? I would prefer a more direct way to report any findings I might uncover unless you don't mind being my intermediary in this." Conner offers.

"I only have a Trump of my Father, which I should keep in case of emergency. But if you wish to call on me, I can be your intermediary," Merlin replies. "If you like, I will see if our Aunt Florimel has a card of our Uncle the King. Perhaps she will be willing to loan it to you."

Celina considers such a discussion between Florimel and Conner. Then she says nothing---waiting for Conner's consideration before posing a question of him.

"No harm in asking her" Conner agrees. "If not the King, then any family that might be with him would do. It is times like this that makes me wish I had devoted more time to my art lessons."

"Florimel doesn't know Corwin is left here yet, she's coming 'round in the morning, I think." Celina decides she may not get any sleep this night, between Moire and Conner and Florimel.

So she skips ahead, "Conner, you haven't really said much about Khela. Is she well?"

"Oh, yes." Conner nods. "I haven't said much about her because very little has changed on that front since you left. We all wait for Jerod to complete his mission and try to keep busy and alert in the meantime. Is there any message you would like me to convey to her?" Conner asks. "Or any of this information that you would wish kept from her for the nonce? I understand the delicate position of straddling two kingdoms after all."

Merlin says, "Lying to her would be risky. But that Random is so distracted, and our father also? That is not a thing I would volunteer."

"Kept from," Celina parses that, then does it again because it doesn't fit anywhere she can think of. She looks at Conner again, wondering why she has helped him. Or why he is helping her. Well, of course, it is some game of acquisition and standing. It relates to things she can only guess at.

But he had been interested in Rebma for a long time. Perhaps he was testing her.

"No," Celina says, denying that she is straddling two kingdoms at all. "Tell her we've lost Cambina certainly. Tell her I miss her. Tell her I'll try to find out more about Moire that might be of use."

"I will do so." Conner nods.

"And we have other cousins here that may be of assistance. Cousin Lucas is here, for one," Merlin adds.

"Pass along my greetings to him and to Solace and the children as well." Conner asks.

"And be certain, Conner," Celina says. "Things change."

"For all that this situation is very Orderly, I find it very chaotic," Merlin agrees. His voice is full of concern.

"From you, that is quite a statement, Merlin." Conner runs a hand through his hair and then repeats the motion to smooth back the hair now floating freely. "The future is a murky thing to be sure. Too many strands are unraveling and becoming knotted. I will call again when there is more news to share."

Celina considers that finis and nods to Conner with concern writ large in her expression. "Best of our thoughts."

Merlin nods, and waits for the contact to close.

Celina has a busy night and morning.

Lancelot is prompt with candidates for Moire's honor guard. Celina gets several neat folders full of bad pictures and many handwritten records from various sources. From these meager six candidates she can only encompass two women that seem qualified. Two cannot a personal guard make, so she has Lance pick another 10 men to add to the six women and asks to have them all report to the palace by tomorrow breakfast. Celina tells Lance she will speak to them each as individuals to reject any that do not pass that muster. She adds that at least three will be with Moire whenever the Queen leaves her rooms.

She listens to Lance's opinions on this special guard, but she follows her instincts mainly.

Lance arranges things as Celina has required.

The Regent sees Florimel whenever her aunt is ready or makes inquiry as to the change of Regency. If Florimel does not call, Celina does not tinker there.

She sends Merlin to check on Lucas, his spouse and the young ones. She even believes that his outworld perspective will be better suited to examine for foul play there---tho' she grew up with many children and remembers lessons on child care and illnesses from the Black Trench War. Better he. Merlin has examined them before.

Merlin agrees that he will do this thing in the morning, after the children have waked up. He will need their cooperation and they should be abed at this hour according to the customs of Paris.

These things in motion, she catches a catnap near dawn.

Waking she scrubs and changes completely into attire 'suitable' in this backward place, guided by what she saw Florimel wearing. She commandeers a maid to get advice on how the layers and fasteners work. For the day, her hair is down and appointed with small gleaming shells.

To introduce her mother to her new honor guard---she schedules Moire for lunch. Seafood is menu, but the main dish is confrontation. Served cold.

In the morning, Celina receives a note from Florimel, offering her services to the new Regent in any capacity required, and stating that she is free if the Regent wishes to speak with her or has any duty she wishes performed.

She also receives a message from Lance that the honor guard is ready for her inspection.

Finally, she receives a return note from her mother agreeing to meet for lunch.

Celina rushes Lance, because she can. She preps for a meeting with Florimel, but takes the inspection of guard first between bites of breakfast.

Looking them over, she doesn't see anything amiss. And to each she says something about the seriousness of the trust they are being given. They report to Lance or herself directly---and take orders also from her brother Merlin.

Any instructions from Moire must be respectfully vetted before being acted on. Mainly she wants to make sure that this crew is bright enough to know they are being put in a bad place and measured to a strange meter. Anyone who is all about the duty and not about the thinking will be culled.

Next she has an informal meeting with Florimel. A morning dress, decidedly unlayered and less fastened than lunch attire is how Celina presents herself.

"My aunt," Celina greets her with a hug. "Thank you for your offer of assistance. I need someone watching over my inexperience. Because I set myself to guard a viper."

Florimel is dressed in clothes that, if Celina had lived in Paris in 1890, she would recognize as morning costume for that era. The color is the sea green that sets off Flora's blonde hair and blue eyes so well.

She accepts the hug from Celina graciously. "Tell me all about it, my dear. I'm sure you and I can find a way to defang her together."

Celina almost smiles, but she is saving her hopes for later. She gestures to seats and the tray of coffee, tea and brandies. Then she takes a seat herself. "Well, there is not much to tell, since Moire does not share with me and my Father has asked me to protect her. This leaves me with the feeling that I'm protecting someone I need protection from."

Celina pours herself tea and brandy. "Oh, and my mother no doubt has not given up the idea of being a queen. Paris seems to find her favor now."

The corners of Florimel's mouth curl up slightly. "I don't think your mother would put up with Corwin in the long term. He makes a show of not valuing women's advice and she could never bear being so disparaged. She may mean to use my dear brother to get her own house in order, but she has no intention of staying here more than a few years. And besides, Moire has some competition for Corwin's attention, and not from the old Deirdre party either."

"I am having lunch with Moire. Someone with medical skills should be near the chamber for I forecast a scuffle of some kind. Do you know medicine? Would you volunteer?"

"I know a bit. Do you anticipate hair-pulling or sorcery?" Florimel asks, as if sorcerous duels at lunch were everyday business.

"I think there will be a bit of everything," Celina wonders aloud. "Depending on who pushes who over the edge first. She's made less mistakes with me than father has, but hers seem to surprise her while father just shrugs as if he knew he would not get it right."

"Paternity came as a bit of a surprise to your father. It's different for women, of course. Our daughters are so much like us, and yet, so different." Flora reaches out to touch Celina's cheek. "I'll stand by, if you like. But you must do this alone, or she'll never respect you. You know that.

"I'll make sure that the chefs outdo themselves for you and your mother. What else can I do for you?"

Celina nods. "Yes." She just knows that Florimel will fit the answer to the right questions.

"Thank you for seeing me so quickly. I have asked Merlin to check the well-being of Solace and the children as there were suggestions that she had been attacked. Since I know little of this, I wanted a baseline for judging my responsibility as regent. I hope you don't feel too pained at the presumption on your family."

"Not at all," Florimel says. "I'm relieved that someone chooses to look more closely into it. I've been concerned since dear Solace's first attack. I only hope that Merlin can find out more information about the perpetrator."

Celina allows the small visit to come to close. But at the door, she becomes impulsive. "There is something else, Aunt Florimel." She centers herself before stepping into the ridiculous place. "Can I have a hug?"

Florimel stops and turn to look at Celina.

"Of course, dear." She extends her arms and puts them around Celina. There's a subtle scent of spice and flowers, and her dress rustles as she moves.

Celina drinks deeply of the moment. She doesn't follow the impulse to secret it away or shape it to fill what she has not had, she appreciates some poetry of the warmth and simple familial grace. Her nose tingles with the scent of a whimsical hope. She tucks that notion away for later. The idea of a larger later seems more probable all the time.

And Celina uncurls from inside of Aunt Florimel's arms. She sighs. "Splendid. Now I am ready for a meal of pains."

She sees her aunt out with a grateful nod.

Moire and her honor attendants arrive for lunch on time, which is to be expected when your honor attendants are glorified gaolers. She is dressed in Rebman fashion and looks, if anything, younger above the water than below.

She pauses at the entranceway and looks around the dining room.

Celina has the room laid out in Rebman splendor, having done much of the work herself because directing servants in such detail would have been colossal effort. The candles are scented with salt and brine. The food is modestly cooked and very fresh. On the floor between table and balcony doors, there are hot rocks in a brass dish to wipe away the chill that the air might bring caressing bare torso. The Regent of Paris is wearing jewelry and trunks. Her expression is rather flat. "Welcome, your majesty. When first I came to Paris, the family was very kind to me and I was very upset by events. I behaved badly in acting as your agent here. I tried to strike the King.

"Would you care to choose a seat? We should talk." She gestures at the table arrayed with bright beauty and delicate vitals. Celina signs the guards to step outside.

The guards step out of the room and Moire sits. "It is a dangerous thing to strike at a King, especially if one does not strike true."

Celina takes a seat at the table and begins serving herself. "A very dangerous thing. Especially if one does not have truth behind the strike and lashes out from spite. Fortunate that such a ignorant action did not over set great things." Celina pours herself water a la Jerod, with ginger.

"So improbably," Celina eyes Moire, "I am Regent here and you are my guest. Since I don't trust you now and I am looking after you with an eye towards no damage done to this realm, I'd like it very much if you just spent your days reading in your room. Loreena is safe, last I saw her. She will be returned to you very soon if she behaves as she has promised. You have my word on that."

Moire nods. "Did your father show you the letter I sent him?" She pours herself a glass of water and drinks from it, smoothly. She has clearly been above water for long enough to master the basic arts.

"He did," Celina says. The very memory of those moments has not lost its power to stir her anger. But here and now has sufficient weight to hold down the power of yesterday's mistakes. "Are you satisfied with that? Or did you expect him to deny me?"

"Not at all, that is not his nature. I expected him to keep you safely out of the rising tide of war between your cousin and myself." She takes a bite of her breakfast. "It is my hope that upon my return I can merely banish you for a small number of years."

"Banishment for a treasonous daughter?" Celina wonders and forks the fish chunk in the slight bowl before her. "How the Shells will talk." She shakes her head at the complexity of her mother's 'hope'.

Celina eyes her mother directly. "Your chance of return is in proportion to the Patternblade eating Khela for you. How likely is that?"

She smiles, "I have returned against greater odds and I think my chance is in proportion to Khela overreaching and being unable to rule. That is likely enou' that I don't even need to have Bend make it happen. And the Shells have gossiped of my mercy to traitorous kinfolk before. Did they tell you the story of Prince Martin's traitorous friends? I am considered kind and softhearted for letting him live, you know. In a hundred years, it will be the same with you."

Bend gone? "I have heard of your mercies. I really rather doubt I would like your terms." Celina sets her fork down before she does something untoward with it. She laces her fingers and leans forward, her chin near her steepled hands. "I'm not Martin or Khela, mother. I'm not that graceful or civil. I'm not Llewella who has agreed to abide by your terms. I'm not quite you, either, as I still value love however false. But I am enough of you to be a spine in your eye if you don't leave off and you won't banish me anywhere. I'll eat you first." Celina studies her mirror mother and she does not smile.

"Are you familiar with our relatives in Chaos? You should be careful what you try to eat. You may just find it ends up eating you. It may be too late for you in any case. But come back to me when you've been eaten and you need someone to provide you a place to rebuild yourself."

She stretches. "It takes some getting used to, sleeping in air, doesn't it? Did you want to discuss something with me or was this merely an opportunity to practice your threatening?"

Celina grimaces. "Yes, sleeping in air is full of omens and nightmares. I don't care for it." She pushes back slightly from the table. "You've been doing this so long you find your wiles and grace equal to any flavor of danger. We'll see. Yes, you are amazing. Yes, I felt your power from the day we met. Does that suffice for you? That I still have a disbelief I am defying you? That this is like trying to reason with a storm? Fine, enjoy it."

The Regent of Paris takes a breath slowly to her center. "You are warned. If you think it is practice, try me now. I'm ready." A quirky notion seems to follow that. Her eyes twinkle a bit but it still has the color of green fire. "There were things I wanted to discuss, Moire. Motherhood. Love. But honestly, I realize that the discussion is already without point. I'm talking to the wrong person."

Celina drops her linen napkin back on the table. "Anything you need before I lock you up?"

"Think first of survival, for there is no greater love that a mother can show than to help her child survive." She stands. "You may imprison me now, Celina."

Celina calls the honor escort. She addresses the senior. "My mother is more fatigued from the airs here than expected. She won't be touring the city after all. Please escort her to her rooms where she can rest."

Moire leaves with Celina silent. Celina fancies they might never speak again.