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“Heiro, dearest, we’re already late,” Calantha called, though she knew it would be in vain; her wife was very particular about fashion these days. She had good reason to be, as trinkets like earrings or brooches were the swiftest way for her to conduct her work, but it certainly made for delayed departures.
She sighed and pushed herself out of her chair to go lean against the door frame, arms folded, watching her wife spiral around the room with a frantic energy she only ever displayed once safely ensconced in their chambers.
“What is it you’re missing?” Calantha asked.
Heiro finally stopped moving to answer her. “The lace shawl with the berries, do you know it?”
Calantha nodded slowly, scanning the room. Lace was too delicate to leave lying about—it would’ve been carefully packed away in the proper drawer, not strewn about like some of the other trinkets might have been. “I think you may have to face the inevitable, dear,” she said.
Heiro rubbed her hands over her face, exhausted, all at once looking her age. “Your brother,” she said.
Calantha grimaced. “My brother.”
“He must have his reasons,” Heiro said, plucking a beaten gold brooch off the wardrobe instead, “but I wish he would tell me that he’s decided to stop courting the Risians instead of making me waste an hour.”
Calantha couldn’t blame the king. Heiro had hinted on more than one occasion the Risians’ fragility over their stranglehold of such trade, and their supreme displeasure over the recent diversification of it, and displeasure could too easily turn to violence given too much prodding.
“The sooner you start cursing Genny the way I do, the better for you,” she said anyway. “And him, probably. I always thought he took a little too much pride in your approval.”
Heiro snorted, pushing past her to get to the receiving room, and then to the hall. “He needed it, back then.”
Calantha only rolled her eyes and took Heiro’s arm, joining the last flock of partygoers on their way.
It always fascinated Calantha to see Heiro’s transformation in the public eye. Every move calculated and controlled, every glance observant and discerning. She would smile and charm those who expected it, gossip and gripe with those who wanted it, and ignore those who thought themselves too secretive to mingle in public—they’d meet instead in the conspiracy room, even more closely watched by Eugenides.
It was a tricky dance to manage, balancing the trust and suspicion of so many people, and Calantha had pushed back at her brother at first, thinking the danger too real. She could hardly be blamed for being protective; with a husband lost to the wars and a child lost to infection, she didn’t want to lose a wife to a wronged noble prone to poison. And she could admit, now, that personal dislike of Gen had played a role. But as she both saw Heiro’s unparalleled skill—and caution—and grew to understand and love Eugenides again, she happily retreated to the sidelines, to see each do their part and to watch and advise where danger was growing too quickly.
She was grateful to Gen, today, for abducting the lace shawl. The Risians were becoming more hostile, and spending a great deal of time with them would not be advisable, no matter how well Heiro thought she had them handled. Without the shawl, they wouldn’t approach, and instead Heiro’s attentions were turned on the wife of the Etrusian ambassador, relatively new to the court and utterly harmless.
As the dancing began—not on the roof tonight, as it was far too cold for the delicate Attolians—Calantha retreated to the far side of the room, keeping an eye on her wife from afar, but mostly just enjoying the atmosphere. She didn’t think she could ever make Attolia home, but it had nestled itself into her heart, bit by bit. She still loved to mock them, as did any other self-respecting Eddisian, but there was plenty to love here. She laughed to herself as, far to the side, Eugenia tripped Hector, and as Hector fixed a blistering glare on her in return, and smiled as she noticed Ornon crouching by a table, surely conversing with a certain Baron Erondites.
“Hello, Cal,” Eugenides said, appearing by her side out of nowhere.
She’d long since grown used to this. “Hello, Genny.” She didn’t smile, and her voice was not warm, but it was well understood between them that hers was the attitude of an older sister, and not of an opponent.
He grinned. “You’re as lovely as ever tonight, dear sister.”
She closed her eyes tolerantly, knowing he thought quite the opposite, the snob. “Do you have something to tell me?”
“Only that I’m glad your wife chose a different style of fashion today.”
“I’m glad, too. You could ask me to interfere next time, instead of stealing a very expensive shawl.”
Eugenides shrugged. “I thought it would look nicer on the altar.” His grin dropped slightly as he turned to her, voice lowered. “Do be watchful, you and Heiro. I can tell there is something I’m missing here, and I don’t know if it’s a threat or not.”
Calantha nodded, and Eugenides stepped back, fully grinning once more and bowing as he retreated. Calantha took the exchange as the compliment it was; it wasn’t often that Eugenides admitted his ignorance, especially to her. Later in the evening, she caught the eye of the Queen, and they shared a nod that had her warm to her toes.
Calantha returned to their rooms before Heiro did, as was customary, but despite her weariness she sat and waited for her wife, nodding over a book and refusing to change out of her uncomfortable evening clothes. She’d just ordered tea when Heiro finally staggered in, dropping her composed charade at once and collapsing next to Calantha on the sofa, head nestled between Calantha's shoulder and the sofa's cushions.
“How did it go?” Calantha asked, voice muted in the dim room.
Heiro hummed. “I don’t know. The conversation with the ambassador’s wife went well, of course, but I heard something that…I don’t know. Give me a moment.”
Tea arrived, and Calantha watched curiously as Heiro started up, relaxed, then tensed again. “Are you certain it wouldn’t be better addressed in the morning, with a clear head? The world won’t burn down in your absence.”
Heiro sat bolt upright. “Oh, gods. Go find Eugenides, right now. Tell him to meet me in the north wing.”
Calantha didn’t waste time asking questions. She ran, moving quickly despite her short legs, and was at his chambers in minutes.
“Let me through,” she told the guards and attendants within. They wouldn’t have recognized her a few years earlier, but now they melted back without objection.
“Gen,” she called, pounding on his door. He opened it almost immediately, disgruntled and with half his coat off. His expression winnowed away into clear focus as she conveyed her message, and he moved past her quickly to head out into the hallway.
He called behind him, “You may follow me, but wait three minutes first.” Most of his retinue listened, but when two guards hurried to catch up with him, he sighed and acquiesced.
Calantha, once she had caught her breath, told the attendants and the remaining guards where he was headed, and jogged along with them when the three minutes was mostly up.
There was no need for silence and secrecy. As they approached the north wing, the cause for Heiro’s panic was clear—smoke curled down the hallways, and Calantha could see Eugenides back lit by flame on the far terrace. She cried out and ran forward, looking for Heiro’s form, but her companions were faster than her, and it was hard to differentiate anyone in the crowd, dimly lit against the bright flame beyond.
She had a hunch, though—she knew what that terrace backed up against. She diverged from the crowd surging towards the terrace to take one side corridor, then another, until she was in the large space cleared out for storage, where new shipments of household goods came in—from the expensive silver cutlery to very necessary linen sheets.
There was a fire in the room, clearly started at the far end and already burning through surrounding walls. It was creeping nearer, not quite reaching the two figures that stood stock-still just a little ways from the door.
One was Heiro, and one was a woman with a pistol aimed true.
“Hold,” Calantha called, one arm up in supplication.
The woman flicked a glance at her, but did not shift her aim. Flickering firelight illuminated only half of her face, but she looked vivid with rage. Calantha didn’t recognize her.
“Lady Kalliape is rather displeased with the new trade agreement,” Heiro said, keeping her eyes ahead. Of course, Kalliape, the figurehead of one of the more impressive baronies in Risia.
Kalliape scoffed so harshly it sounded like a snarl. Calantha started to hear noises from behind her; the others must have guessed the source of the fire. She needed to act quickly.
“Have you considered piracy?” Calantha said, shifting her weight so her step forward was unnoticeable. “We Eddisians found good luck with it, when Attolia didn’t meet our standards.”
“The cowards’ choice,” Kalliape said. “I have delivered a message, here.”
“And yet you traded your freedom—maybe your life—in the process, as you're trapped here,” Heiro remarked, matching Calantha’s easy tone. “Was that wise? Even if it was brave.”
“You two are the only ones who’ve seen me,” she said, smiling waspishly. “And I should have no trouble—”
“Dive!” Calantha shouted as she leaped the last few paces to tackle the taller woman. A shot went off before Calantha could knock the pistol from her hand, but she glanced over to see Heiro closer to the fire and father from the range of the bullet.
Kalliape was a highborn lowlander, and easy to restrain and lift bodily to her feet without the threat of her weapon. Calantha shared another searching glance with Heiro to ascertain her wellbeing before marching out into the corridor and handing the lady off to frantically running guards.
They didn’t stop, both sprinting immediately to find water and heavy blankets with the dozens of other palace residents awoken by the commotion.
It took most of the night, and while most of the items in the storeroom were, in the end, destroyed, it had started raining partway through and prevented the fire from spreading too far into the palace. Calantha and Heiro returned to their rooms around dawn, exhausted, only to find the Queen of Attolia sitting in their receiving room, deep in conversation with the Secretary of the Archives, the newly-appointed Kamet. She turned to them as they entered and bowed deeply, appropriately astonished to find the queen waiting in such a relatively shabby room.
“I won’t take much of your time,” she began briskly, “but I need to know: was Kalliape working with the ambassador?”
Heiro shook her head. “I don’t believe so, my Queen. The ambassador was displeased, but only his alignment with the deal could have incensed Kalliape so severely.”
Attolia inclined her head. “That is what Attolis thinks as well.” She stood, and Kamet followed suit.
“You doubt her husband’s involvement?” he asked, almost perfunctorily. He and Heiro worked closely together, and Calantha guessed that he already knew her opinion.
“Yes,” Heiro said. “The man has never been convinced to take an interest in anything outside the comforts of his home.”
“Good,” Kamet said absently, before visibly quashing a yawn. He glanced up at Attolia, but Calantha didn’t think she’d noticed.
“Let’s hope we’ve finished the matter, then,” Attolia said. “Get some rest, while you can. I thank you, Heiro, for saving my palace, and I thank you, Calantha, for saving Heiro. Good morning,” she said, and swept out, Kamet shuffling tiredly after her.
The doors swung shut and Calantha tugged Heiro close, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the smell of smoke wafting off both their persons. “I am happy you are safe.”
Heiro smiled, kissing her once on the cheek and once on the mouth. “I am happy to have you. And,” she added, pulling them both to the bedroom, “I am glad for fresh nightclothes and a bath in the morning.”
Calantha looked around at the bedroom, still wrecked from the evening’s frantic search, and snorted slightly. Let Eugenides try and steal anything surreptitiously in this mess.
Under light covers, blanketed by dawn sunlight, Calantha tucked her head into the curve of Heiro’s back and was grateful for poor shots.