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Gaudy had finished his dinner. He knew he should take his plate back, but he couldn’t find the energy. He stared at the puddle of sauce he had tried dipping his meat into and then shoved aside as too hot for him. That was all; a plate, a puddle of unwanted hot sauce, and no thoughts in his mind at all.
Someone sat beside him on the bench and leaned into him, their curved breast pressing against his arm. That woke him up. He flinched back. The squeak of startlement in a familiar and safe voice made him raise his head. Iri sat there, looking at him with wide eyes. “Gaudy? Are you okay?”
He grimaced and shoved a hand through his hair. “I will be. Sorry.” The twins were good friends, almost sisters to him now; she hadn’t deserved his reaction.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he muttered, but then admitted, “but I probably should. Or swear off relationships.” He didn’t add like my uncle but he thought it really loudly. “…or both.”
Iri’s eyebrows rose, her eyes still wide. She looked like a Csiven Flyer cartoon of someone surprised. “What brought that on?”
Gaudy looked back down at the pathetic, cooling hot sauce. It was easier than meeting her eyes. “Lady Dionne.”
“You flirted with her a couple times, but I thought she turned you down?” Iri sounded puzzled, and slightly tentative with it. “And I know you’ve seen others since then. Iro was one.”
“Oh, she did. She was very clear about how interested she was in a mere commoner, back then.” He shrugged. Before Iri could ask the obvious question, he continued flatly, “Except tonight she happened by to talk and flirt with me after work. Since I’m now worth it. And in case I was somehow too stupid to figure out why, she called me ‘Gaudenius Madon’---twice.” He mimicked Dionne’s lilting intonations, the way her court accent mangled his first name and his uncle’s last name.
He wasn’t sure what caught his attention, some shift of her weight or a small sound he didn’t even consciously notice. He glanced up in time to see Iri looking like she’d been slapped. Then her eyes narrowed and she looked rather more like she wanted to slap someone. Gaudy wasn’t certain of the word she hissed then, but given the tone he could make a good guess that it was impolite. He’d ask about the specific meaning later—maybe.
Iri refocused on him. “I’ll talk to Iro and…Eldo, I think.”
“What? Why?”
Iri’s smile was venomous enough he was glad her malice wasn’t aimed at him. “I think Lady Dionne’s reputation could use a little honesty.”
Oh gods. He didn’t know if this was better or worse, but it was probably too late to stop it…not that he really wanted to. He was sure his great-uncle’s husband was laughing somewhere.