FIC Antoinette Part 1
Jun. 9th, 2009 08:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jessara40k_ljTitle: Antoinette
Pairing: F/f
Rating: PG-13
Warning: implied sexual slavery, arranged marriages, non-traditional marriages
Word Count: approx 7,000
Summary: Armand suggests a way his sister Antoinette could heal the breach her first consorting created with their mother.
Feedback: Welcome as long as all criticism is constructive
Antoinette knocked on Armand’s door, hoping that her brother had a better idea of how to ease their mother’s displeasure at her over Sarah than she did. She didn’t regret taking Sarah as her consort; she’d found a love that she hadn’t expected with the IT advisor, and Sarah had made her feel beautiful and cherished in a way she’d never felt before. Even so the Terenev Natalya’s displeasure had worn on her more than she’d expected, even though her mother wasn’t petty enough to actually take punitive measures beyond removing Antoinette from the list of potential heirs - and making that fact known to the Family as she hadn’t with Terese.
It had been a moot point of course, as their mother had formally named Armand her heir less than a year later, on his thirtieth birthday, and scheduled his consorting for three months after that, but even so Antoinette wished that her mother didn’t disapprove of Sarah so strongly and badly wanted to reconcile with her somehow. But not badly enough to sever her contract with Sarah, never badly enough for that. It had hurt when Natalya had told her that Jasmine, her pleasure slave, would have been a better choice - or a more understandable choice - than Sarah was, but Sarah had made it clear from the very start that she’d support Antoinette and share the consequences of becoming her consort, no matter how her mother reacted.
“Please, come in Antoinette.” Hilary opened the door with a smile, and stepped back to let her past.
“Thank you. Did my brother tell you why he wanted to see me?” All he’d told her was that he wanted to talk about her consorting, and about what their mother had planned for her. She didn’t think Armand would have called for her to persuade her to abandon Sarah; Terese might have, if it didn’t conflict with her ambitions, but Armand had seemed to understand her decision, especially once he met Sarah.
“No, I’m afraid not. Whatever his idea is it’s something he thinks you should hear first. How are Sarah and Jasmine anyway?” Hilary shut the door behind them and began leading her through to wherever Armand was.
“They’re doing well.” Antoinette smiled as she spoke, wanting to gush about Sarah, but knowing that Hilary was probably more interested in Jasmine. “Sarah’s been put in charge of updating the accounting software at her job and Jasmine’s been asked to paint the covers for a new series from one of the better selling authors at Revan. Bryant’s on the brink of breaking out of the mid-list to bestseller status, and his sales are a lot more reliable than mine are yet.” Antoinette had been really proud of Jasmine for taking the initiative of talking to her publisher about painting the cover art for Antoinette’s books, and even more so when she had the sense to ask Antoinette to negotiate the exact terms of the contracts she supplied the art under.
“Does that mean she’s paid more for her art? And is she still enjoying painting?”
“No, Revan’s paying the same price for these covers as they have for the others she’s done, but it’s a secure contract, and painting is still a hobby for her, or a passion, not a job. That’s why she always delivers at least three different paintings for Revan to choose from, and refuses to allow them to have much in the way of control over what she paints.” And Antoinette had made sure that Jasmine retained the right to sell the original or prints of it if she wished to, even if Revan retained the right to recycle any of the paintings they accepted as covers of future books. That was fairly standard though; Antoinette’s first three books had all been given covers taken from a detail of the art for previous books.
“As long as she’s happy.” Hilary came to a halt and gestured at the door beside him. “Armand’s in his office; he wants to talk about this in private.”
“Thank you for guiding me then.” She knocked on the door, rather than just assuming Armand would be ready for her and walking in the way she had when she was younger.
“Come on in, Antoinette.” Armand had a pair of photos on the desk beside him, but Antoinette didn’t look, just stood in front of her brother as the supplicant she was.
“Armand, you wanted to discuss something with me?”
“Yes, sit down please.” Antoinette relaxed a little at the invitation. “Why didn’t you wait until Mother had confirmed me as her heir before you took Sarah as your consort? You never explained that to me, and I don’t think she’d have been so angry, or actively punished you if you’d waited.”
“She wouldn’t have had the option, not after confirming you as her heir.” Publicising the removal of a child as a potential heir among that Family was the most the Terenev could do to formally discipline any offspring who proved unsuitable, and Natalya had never been petty enough to resort to more severe or informal punishments that could tend to abuses of her power. That was why she’d dared take a consort of her choice, confident that Sarah wouldn’t suffer for it, although she’d appreciated the courage Sarah had shown, with the risk she’d believed she was taking. “But that embarrassment was little enough. What hurts is her current coldness towards me, her attitude towards Sarah, and the disappointment she displays so clearly, and my timing wouldn’t have changed any of that.”
“I think it would have. Mother wouldn’t have been so disappointed if you’d waited until you knew she had a good heir.”
“And if I’d only liked Sarah, wanted her and respected her the way I hoped to when I started courting her I probably would have been able to wait.” Or if Sarah had been worried enough about the possibility of losing her job to ask her to delay. “But I love her, and once Terese told me that she’d been eliminated as heir after Tonio failed his basic diploma we didn’t want to wait.” She shrugged and smiled at her brother. “Besides, I had every confidence you’d prove to be a good choice of heir.” By then he’d already demonstrated his understanding of many of their alliances and arranged three consortings within the Family.
“I appreciate your confidence in me then. Here, take a look at these.” He handed the two photos over to her, and Antoinette looked down to examine them, starting with the studio portrait.
The first thing Antoinette noticed was the scar, a ragged thing running from near the woman’s left temple across her cheek to twist the left corner of her mouth, giving her a discontented look. She’d turned her face to make sure the photo showed the scar in full, making no effort to disguise it. Would it be more or less obvious on paler skin? Antoinette couldn’t tell, still, even without the scar Antoinette didn’t think she’d be beautiful, only pretty. The same sort of pretty as her brother, Louis, where good make-up and a strong or engaging enough personality would create the illusion of beauty. And from the hint of defiance in her eyes, and the challenge that curved her lips she certainly had a strong enough personality to make you forget about her appearance in person. Despite the twist her lips were full and sensuous, her nose was broad and snubbed up just a little at the tip. She had broad cheeks and a high smooth brow, with large dark eyes, either black or a brown dark enough to be mistaken for it. Her hair was obviously long, past her shoulders, black and with just a hint of a curl. Antoinette had seen enough of that photo, and turned to the other one, equally posed, but this time showing the woman’s whole body.
She was wearing loose trousers and a high necked tunic with long arms, falling to the middle of her thighs, loose at her waist and maybe just a little tight across her breasts. Tight, or fitted perfectly, Antoinette couldn’t tell from the photo. She was partly supporting herself with a cane, meaning there had to be nerve damage or something similar - it was one thing to refuse cosmetic correction for a scar, and another altogether to deny yourself functionality. Her knuckles had paled a little from how tightly she was gripping her cane and her free hand rested on her left hip - or maybe it was pressed there, Antoinette couldn’t quite tell, but either way the pose drew attention to her curves, and to her slight lean. There was a distant look in her eyes, but Antoinette could see how she’d set her teeth - enduring the pain of shifting until the photographer found a pose to satisfy him perhaps? Or maybe she just didn’t like the knowledge that she was being photographed as more or less an advertisement for her potential as a consort - at least that was how Antoinette assumed Armand had acquired these photos.
“She seems very brave. Who is she?” Antoinette started to hand the photos back only for Armand to refuse to take them.
“Keep them, she’s called Rafiyah Ashawna, and Mother told me to try and work out how we can form a connection with her Family. It isn’t important enough to offer a connection through anything closer than one of our second cousins, and that only if was can offer a consort to the heir - Rafiyah’s brother. Do you think she’s attractive?”
“Yes. But if you want me to court her I’ll need to talk to Sarah about it. Do you really think she’d be willing to accept being only my second consort?” She hadn’t even talked with Sarah about the possibility of making Jasmine her second consort, but if she agreed to court Rafiyah that wouldn’t be an option unless or until Rafiyah refused her suit - although third consort would, if she succeeded and both Sarah and Rafiyah were agreeable.
“I don’t know, but she might, and given that our Family outranks hers considerably it should be enough to form the basis of a joint venture.”
“As long as her Family - or at least the Ashawna - is willing to acknowledge their inferior position that is. I understand what you want me to do.” And he was right, if she could bring an alliance to the Family, even when she was already attached to Sarah, her mother would probably start to judge Sarah on her own merits, instead of as an obstacle to her plans for Antoinette.
“Thank you. Would you care to stay for a drink and a snack?” Armand stood as he spoke, and Antoinette followed his example.
“Yes please.” She generally liked her brother, and now that they’d finished the formal portion of her visit it would be good to catch up with him and his household.
~~~0~~~
Rafiyah absently traced the carving on the handle of her cane as she watched the dancers, trying to stave off boredom by speculating about one or another of them and guessing which of the unfamiliar faces were of the Families, and which present only by the grace of their lovers. She didn’t mind being left to sit and watch so much when she was having a bad day, but even then she always appreciated it when one of her sisters would come and sit with her to rest for a while. A shift in the crowd drew her attention, and she looked to see what had caused it, drawing a breath of arousal at the sight she found.
A magnificent woman was stalking towards her. Taller than most men and muscled to match she was nonetheless abundantly female. Admittedly her narrow waist could have been male, but the hips below it most certainly were not, and neither were the high, firm - if somewhat small - breasts under the velvet of her tunic. A mane of hair fell back over her broad shoulders, its ripened wheat shade bright against the deep red of the tunic, and she moved with a fighter’s grace as she avoided the more inattentive pairs. She couldn’t think what someone like that would want with her, but Rafiyah had let her father settle her in a fairly well hidden nook tonight, so the woman’s target was unmistakeable, and she put her cane down against the chair to her right in preparation for the woman’s arrival.
“Hello, I’m Antoinette Terenev.” She went to one knee in front of Rafiyah as she offered her hand, glancing down at the cane by Rafiyah’s side with a hint of disappointment. “Would it be an imposition to ask you to dance?”
Rafiyah knew it was only the contrast with her own dark skin that made the olive gold of Antoinette’s skin seem so pale as she enclosed Rafiyah’s hand in her own, shaking it as if she didn’t realise Rafiyah was destined to be a consort, or live her life as her brother’s dependent. Looking up at her face it was clear her skin was only a few shades lighter than her hair, and slightly browner too. Her almond shaped eyes were a dark blue, emphasised by her darkened eyelashes, and she’d painted her lips in a warm brown, the minimal make-up somehow softening the strong, almost masculine, lines of her face, without weakening them. Her offer was incredibly tempting; Rafiyah enjoyed dancing when her hip allowed it, and if she could accept maybe her conversation would interest Antoinette enough for her to sit with her afterwards.
“I’m Rafiyah Ashawna, and I don’t want to leave my cane behind.” She shrugged her left shoulder before Antoinette released her hand, wishing that there was someone nearby she could trust to leave her cane with. It was a good day for her after all, and she’d only brought it as a precaution, but she didn’t want to risk someone deciding to hide it. “There are too many of the Family drones here for me to be certain it would remain where I left it. I’ve had it hidden at parties like this before.”
“I see.” There was a hint of anger in Antoinette’s voice as she rose to her feet, but it was gone by the time she spoke her next request. “Then might I simply sit with you and talk?”
“If that is what you wish.” Rafiyah lowered her eyes, since more than one man had complained about the ‘insolence’ her preferred direct gaze displayed, and she didn’t want to drive away the only company she’d had in the two hours since her arrival.
“Yes, it is.” Antoinette sat down on Rafiyah’s left, and Rafiyah shifted to see her more fully from under lowered lashes. “I see that your father must be fairly liberal.”
“Yes, he is. I take it you know we are a patriarchal Family then?” As that would be the only reason she would refer to Rafiyah’s father and deduce his liberality from the scar on her face.
“Even if I hadn’t already known it, your change of behaviour would have informed me. Such mannerisms are only forced in gender-biased Families.” There was a hint of contempt in Antoinette’s voice, raising Rafiyah’s temper.
“You dislike the appearance of modesty then?” She didn’t quite glare at Antoinette, but she knew that her stare was a clear challenge, and she intended to stand by it.
“Only when it’s created by artificial behaviour; I prefer to deal with people who are not putting on some sort of act for my benefit.” There was a hint of bitterness there, what could have caused that? But Antoinette did have a point, at least if she intended more than a single conversation with Rafiyah. And it showed a very good eye for nuance.
“Sometimes it’s hard to tell what behaviour is artificial; my sisters responded much better to deportment training than I did.”
“And for them those self-effacing displays of submission might be comfortable and comforting, almost natural. But your strength of will is written on your face.” Oh, that was what she was after. She was good.
“If you want to ask about the scar you can just ask. I won’t be offended.” Antoinette blinked, almost as if it wasn’t what she’d been fishing for.
“Very well. I’ll be blunt if that would make you feel more comfortable?” Antoinette paused long enough for Rafiyah to nod; at least on this issue she would prefer a blunt question rather than subtle hints and veiled insinuations. “Was it your choice to keep it?”
That really wasn’t the question she’d been expecting and Rafiyah hesitated over how much to tell Antoinette. “Yes, I was conscious long enough to tell the doctors that I didn’t want them to do anything to minimise the scarring there.” Antoinette looked surprised by that. “Would you have done otherwise?”
“Yes, at least if I would be going into surgery anyway, and working on my face wouldn’t get in the way of more important issues.” She tilted her head to one side with a faint smile. “Since we’re on the subject of appearances, there seems to be something odd about your tunic, but I can’t quite tell what it is.”
“It’s custom cut, to compensate for how I lean on my cane when I walk.” She let her distaste for the idea flavour her words, but it wasn’t something she had enough influence to change; her father had backed up her mother’s insistence on formalwear that helped to disguise her weakness, making her cane look more like an affectation and less like the necessity it often was.
“Ah, I see. I didn’t think about that.” Antoinette glanced up with a frown. “Would you be willing to give me your contact details?”
“Of course.” She liked Antoinette and it would be good to talk with her again - and it seemed Antoinette shared her desire if she wanted Rafiyah’s contact details. “And will you give me yours in return?”
“Naturally.” Antoinette pulled her cards from her belt purse while Rafiyah fished hers from the pocket near the cuff of her right sleeve, and they exchanged cards as two more women approached them. “I’m sorry, I wanted to spend more time talking with you alone, but it seems I need to make some introductions now.”
She stood and moved to greet the two women, neither coming much past her shoulders in height; Rafiyah heard the one in black apologising for coming over, and explaining that a man called Shoucheng had been harassing the other woman, Jasmine.
“I’m not surprised; he’s one of the drones, and his Family’s almost as powerful as ours. I should have asked Armand or Terese to stay with you. Come on, I should introduce you both to Rafiyah.” She led the two women forward as she spoke. “Rafiyah, this is my consort Sarah Trimble. Sarah, this is Rafiyah Ashawna.”
“Hello Sarah.” She held out her hand to Sarah in greeting, smiling to hide her disappointment at learning the woman she’d found so tempting, and who’d seemed to return her interest was already spoken for. But then Antoinette hadn’t even been flirting with her; her actions could have been overtures of friendship and she quickly assessed Sarah as the woman shook her hand.
She was barely pretty, if that, coppery hair cut short in a feathery crop, pale blue eyes set in a narrow face. She clearly had no idea how to make the best of her body - it looked like she had good breasts, but she’d chosen to wear an oversized black shirt to accommodate (or hide) them, making it baggy at the waist and hips, and giving her skin an unhealthy pallor. And she didn’t seem that comfortable socialising from her subdued response; Antoinette had to really love Sarah to take her as a first consort instead of saving herself for whatever alliance the Terenev wanted from her - and then not insist that she learn to either judge what clothes suited her better or to take advice from someone who already had that sort of judgement.
“And this is my companion Jasmine, Jasmine, Rafiyah Ashawna.”
Companion; that had to be Terenev code for pleasure slave; Jasmine was absolutely gorgeous and the epitome of graceful submission. Her eyes were lowered demurely as she offered her hand, a faint smile on her lips and her other hand gathering her full skirts. The bodice of her dark green dress was fitted closely to her trim waist, with a deep sweetheart neckline revealing an impressive cleavage. Her skin was almost the same shade as the dark amber ornaments holding her chestnut hair in an upswept style, and she wore a large emerald pendant that matched her dangling teardrop earrings.
“Hello Jasmine.”
“I am honoured to meet you Rafiyah.” She glanced up then, meeting Rafiyah’s eyes for a brief moment, before continuing. “Might we sit with you for a while?”
“Yes, of course.” It was polite of Jasmine to ask, but hardly necessary, and Rafiyah hid her surprise that she was the one asking. “Although...is that offer to dance still open Antoinette?” The current tune was coming to an end, so now was a good time to ask.
“Certainly. I take it you’d like Sarah and Jasmine to look after your cane while we dance?”
“If they don’t mind. And...it will have to be a slow dance, not a fast one.” Rafiyah stood as she spoke, hiding the twinge of pain in her hip as she stepped forward towards Antoinette.
“A simple waltz then?” The new tune seemed suited for that, and Rafiyah nodded as Antoinette guided her towards the dance floor.
~~~0~~~
Antoinette kept an eye on the coffeshop door as she worked on the copy-edits, to make sure she didn’t miss Rafiyah’s arrival. She’d just finished the mocha she’d ordered when Rafiyah arrived and she quickly stood to draw the other woman’s attention, leaving her work on the table as she moved towards her, tucking one or two stray chairs in to clear the way as she went.
“Hello Rafiyah. Would it help if I offered you my arm?”
“No Antoinette.” Rafiyah shook her head with a smile. “But thank you, and you’ve already helped me as much as you can by clearing the way for me.”
“I was here early, so I had the time to make sure you’d have a clear path to walk.”
“And I see no one interfered with your arrangements too much.” Rafiyah sounded amused, and Antoinette took up a position at her left hand, to lend support if needed, while trying not to crowd her.
“No, there weren’t many people here when I arrived, and you’re only the fifth person to arrive since I have. I thought you’d prefer a table that was tucked against a wall, so you could rest your cane against it more easily.”
“And where I don’t have to risk people tripping or stumbling into me.” Rafiyah’s easy agreement and humour told Antoinette that she’d been right. “What did you bring to occupy yourself while you were waiting?” Rafiyah turned her head to glance at Antoinette briefly, before biting her lip and looking forward again, but casting her eyes down this time. “That is if it isn’t too personal to discuss.”
“Oh, I brought a copy of the proofs I’ve been working on to correct while I waited. They’re only part of the book though, and a later part at that.” Towards the end of the last book in the contracted trilogy as a matter of fact. Antoinette wasn’t entirely certain it was a good idea for the three books to be first released in consecutive months, but Revan’s marketing department wanted to try it, and it wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford to take the gamble.
“Oh, I see. I brought some embroidery in case I was the first to arrive, are you under much pressure to get those proofs finished?”
“No, I’m nearly finished with them, and I’ve got another month to get them back to my publisher.” Antoinette shrugged as she pulled out a chair for Rafiyah with a glance. “I just don’t want to start work, or even research, on a new book while I’m putting the final polish on this project.”
“Ah, and you don’t have anything else that is equally portable to amuse yourself with.”
“Not really, no. What would you like to drink, and do you want anything to eat?”
“Do they have any chocolate cake? And I’d like a mocha please.” Rafiyah smiled up at Antoinette as she spoke, leaning her cane against the wall and table.
“I’ll leave you to get settled then while I get the coffee and cakes.” She turned then, picking up her empty cup and saucer and frowning as she saw that at least two people had arrived at the shop while she was escorting Rafiyah to their table. It didn’t really matter whether she could be served at once of course, but she hoped that these arrivals had just been coincidence, or at most people in the service of Rafiyah’s Family, asked to watch over her, rather than a sign that the shop was soon to become more crowded. There wasn’t anyone after her as she asked for two slices of chocolate cake and two mochas anyway, so Antoinette dismissed it as she collected the drinks and took the tray back to Rafiyah.
“Could you just take everything off the tray while I hold it?” She didn’t think the tray would be easy to balance on the table while leaving enough room to transfer the cups and plates, not with her work in three piles, one more messy than the others.
“Of course.” Rafiyah had pulled out her embroidery while Antoinette was waiting to be served, and she set it to one side to transfer the cups and plates to the table, one at a time to avoid any spills. “Were you waiting long?”
“Maybe half an hour, possibly a bit more. I had to take Jasmine to Revan for a meeting, so I came here once I’d dropped her off.” Antoinette leaned the tray against the table leg as she sat down, wondering why Rafiyah seemed suddenly crestfallen.
“Oh, then you won’t be able to spend that much time here, will you?”
“I can spend at least a couple of hours with you; Jasmine knows how to contact me when the meeting’s finished, and it’s scheduled to take something like three hours, or longer.” Probably longer while they argued over which of her twenty plus concept sketches she should turn into full paintings. Bryant would be pretty agreeable - Antoinette wondered if part of his success came from his amiability when it came to marketing - but she’d been there for some of the fights between agents, editors and marketing reps.
“Oh, good. I know we just agreed to meet for coffee, but I thought it might be nice to go shopping with you.” Rafiyah smiled, putting her embroidery away, and looking pointedly at Antoinette’s work.
“There’s no reason not to.” Not if Rafiyah felt up to it. Antoinette didn’t have a good feel for how much the other woman could do with her leg the way it was. “Anything you want to look for in particular, or just whatever catches your eye?”
“Whatever catches my eye, unless there’s something you’d like to look for?”
“No, there isn’t.” Antoinette shook her head with a smile, organising her proofs to put away, before glancing down below Rafiyah’s neck, wishing she was wearing something that showed maybe a hint of cleavage. “I’m willing to go wherever you want me to. Do you want to look for clothes, jewellery, or something else?”
“If it wouldn’t bore you I saw a needlework shop just a few shops along, and I’d like to see what sort of fabrics they have.” It didn’t sound particularly interesting, but Rafiyah seemed enthusiastic about the idea.
“If that’s what you’d like I’m perfectly willing to serve as your escort.”
“Are you flirting with me?” It wasn’t an outraged demand at least, but Rafiyah didn’t seem pleased with her realisation.
“Yes, I am.” She really wanted to court Rafiyah, but that wouldn’t be easy, so she’d been trying to build up to it. But maybe that was the wrong approach. “I do find you attractive - the scar doesn’t detract from your brains, your character or your figure. I talked to Sarah about this after Armand made his suggestion for easing my mother’s displeasure about my choice of consort, and she agreed.”
“And how serious is your mother’s displeasure?”
“On a personal level, it hurts that she’s become distant towards me, and worse, she’s hurting Sarah with how little she accepts her, and how poorly she regards her.” Antoinette hadn’t realised how much Sarah had been hurt by her mother’s behaviour, or how guilty she felt about it, and she wondered just how much that guilt had motivated her to agree with Armand’s idea. “The most she could really do to punish me was tell the Family that I was off the list of potential heirs, rather than simply confirming it in private, but...she’s treating me as if I were irresponsible now.” And it wasn’t just about Antoinette’s decision to focus on her writing rather than keep on working at one of the Family offices - she’d made that decision when Revan had asked her to contract for this trilogy, before she signed her contract with Sarah.
“Confirming it? From the outside it’s pretty hard to tell what the rules are for the Terenev to pick her heir, is it a Family secret, or can you discuss it?”
“I don’t know everything about how you can be disqualified as a potential heir, but the two rules the Terenev Anya laid down are that the heir must be as well educated as possible - now that tends to mean at least one degree - and make an alliance with the consort he takes. I could have waited until Armand was confirmed as heir, he asked me why I didn’t, but I was confident by then that he would be confirmed on his next birthday. And I’d fallen in love with Sarah.” Antoinette leaned forward, watching Rafiyah’s reactions, pleased to note that she seemed more sympathetic to her, less offended by the notion of being flirted with.
“Lucky you, having a competent brother. Mine’s an idiot. And Father can’t disinherit him, not without a second son as an alternative heir, and even then only if he actually commits some sort of crime.”
“And he doesn’t want to offend his consort’s Family by taking a second consort to give him a smarter son?” That or he loved his consort just as much as Antoinette loved Sarah, and she wasn’t willing to agree to a second consort.
“Omar’s an idiot, but he’s pretty law-abiding, so there’d be no point in Father trying to get a second son.” Antoinette probably deserved the hint of contempt in Rafiyah’s voice. “On the other hand he can name a grandson as his heir - whichever of Omar’s sons he thinks would do best, as long as he can live long enough to see his grandson reach his majority.”
“I don’t get that, how is it alright for him to skip over his son, and then pick his heir from his grandsons, but not for him to choose the most suitable son as his heir?”
“How should I know?” Rafiyah shrugged her answer. “You didn’t know that much about how your mother chose from her children to select her heir, and you had a chance of succeeding her. I only know that he’d prefer a grandson as his heir because he’s been asking me about potential consorts for Omar; which women are smart enough to manoeuvre him into leading the Family better if it comes to that, and might give him smart grandchildren. I...do you really find me attractive? I just called you stupid, or as good as.”
“Twice, because I was being stupid, and I like that you were willing to call me on it.” She’d met Sarah when she’d come up from IT to help Antoinette with a problem with her computer, and chewed her out afterwards for causing it. This seemed like a time to be blunt, she thought Rafiyah would respect that more than the indirect hints she’d been offering earlier, now that her intentions were out in the open. “So, might I court you?”
“Yes, you may.”
~~~0~~~
“You summoned me Father?” Rafiyah paused in the doorway of the office, waiting for confirmation that she was invited.
“Yes, come in.” He turned away from his desk as he spoke, picking up a shallow wooden box. “And don’t kneel.”
Rafiyah nodded at that, but didn’t alter her course, standing just behind the cushion she’d intended to kneel on, the one her Father kept for women of the Family who came to petition him, or deal with Family business at his command.
“This gift was sent to you, through my hands, from Antoinette Terenev.” Rafiyah blinked as she accepted the box, holding it carefully in one hand; she hadn’t expected Antoinette to be this formal about offering a contract. “Would you care to sit down to open it?”
“Yes Father.” Rafiyah sat on the nearest chair, resting her cane on her lap before opening the box. There was a note resting on top of folded red fabric shot with gold, and she read that first.
‘Dear Rafiyah,
‘Mother included proposals for an alliance with your Family sealed by our consorting in the package for your father accompanying this gift, in addition to my own offer to contract with you.
‘I hope to see you wearing my gift the next time we meet.
Love, Antoinette.’
She smiled as she put the note down, lifting the fabric out of the box and opening it to reveal a beautiful, sheer silk scarf, about the same size as a double quilt, maybe a little smaller. Antoinette had gauged her gift nicely; this scarf was top quality, a colour that Rafiyah liked and that suited her, and perfect to wear as a scarf, throw, or veil, showing that she respected Rafiyah and her Family, but it didn’t draw attention to their lesser status compared to the Terenevs as jewellery would. Underneath the scarf there were ten skeins of gorgeous variegated silk as well.
“Do you wish to read the note, Father?” She fished it out from under the scarf covering her lap, and offered it up to him, returning it to the box when he waved it off.
“No need. I found it rather blunt.” Her surprise must have shown, because he hastily qualified his statement. “For a note sent to a proposed consort anyway.”
“Ah, I see.” Rafiyah began roughly folding the scarf up again as she spoke. “Antoinette knows me well enough to realise I’d see it as a compliment that she didn’t feel the need to coddle and cajole me by denying the pragmatic aspects of this consorting. I...will you approve of it?”
“I don’t like the idea. You should be first consort, not second, or possibly even third.” But something in her Father’s voice told Rafiyah that he’d be open to persuasion.
“You have mentioned that we need links with one of the business oriented Families, and the Terenevs are among the best of those.” That obviously wasn’t what he was concerned about, but she could use it as a starting point to expand on. “Antoinette’s courtship of me was initially prompted by the fact that her mother does think we’d make useful allies, but she was honest about her motivations from the moment I actually realised she was interested in me.”
“I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for the Family.” Her Father rested a hand on her shoulder as he spoke. “If you’re that worried about ending up under Omar’s control I can find a man with a short life expectancy to take you as a consort long enough to give you your independence.” He’d made that offer before, and Rafiyah just smiled as she glanced up at him, then shook her head.
“No Father, I’ve told you, I don’t like the idea of using someone like that and even if I did there’s always the chance of it backfiring with my sire having a miraculous recovery, leaving me bound to a stranger.” And a commoner to boot, since she didn’t think any man of the Families would need to agree to her Father’s offer. Possibly with an inadequate contract too, one that didn’t protect her the way it should since it would have been written on the assumption that her sire wouldn’t live long enough to have any real power over her. “And...it wouldn’t be a sacrifice becoming Antoinette’s consort.”
“It wouldn’t?” He lifted his hand, moving around the chair until she could see him without twisting and she could tell that he wanted to believe her, wanted her to convince him that he should approve of Antoinette’s proposal, and it scared her that she could see it.
“If I was willing to sacrifice myself for the Family I’d have let the surgeons do something about this scar.” She lifted her hand to her cheek with a soft, almost bitter, laugh. She’d sort of known that being scarred would stop the pressure on her to become a traditional, compliant woman - and it had made the idiot’s Family more willing to offer compensation to her. “Antoinette is magnificent, and she pays attention to me and what I want. She doesn’t just follow rote ‘courtesy’, and she doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable with my scar or my cane.” Rafiyah despised rote ‘courtesy’, the type that assumed all women were the same, all weak and fragile, and all men were strong and honourable, and even some of her Family still had issues with her scar or cane. “She makes me feel desirable, and she doesn’t care that I’m insolent. I’ve called her stupid to her face, more than once, and she just agrees with me if she thinks I called it right, or ignores it if she doesn’t.”
“You trust her then.”
“Yes Father, I do.” At least as much as she trusted her Father, and more than she trusted Omar, or most of her sisters.
“Enough to risk a poorly negotiated contract? One that wouldn’t give you all the protections I would negotiate for you?” That was a dangerous question, and even though Rafiyah would have liked to give an unqualified yes, she couldn’t.
“As long as I get control of my dowry in the event of contract breach or dissolution.” That was pretty much standard for women from their Family as far as she knew, but Rafiyah had to articulate it if she wanted her Father to trust her judgement on this.
“I’ll make sure Omar knows to get that at least, and that I’ll be reviewing the final result. I’ll negotiate the ancillary contracts directly with the Terenev, but I’ll want Omar to negotiate your consorting contract...with her heir I suppose.” From the sound of it that was the only way he’d agree to her becoming Antoinette’s consort, so Rafiyah nodded, even though she didn’t entirely like it.
“I understand Father. Omar needs to learn these things, and it won’t do any harm if he makes mistakes in this. But I would prefer it if you allowed me to take the answer to Antoinette myself.”
“You may issue an invitation for her to make an overnight visit here if you wish. As long as she understands that she’ll be sleeping in one of the guest rooms. I want to meet her properly anyway.”
“Yes Father, thank you.” It was a sign of acceptance, one she hadn’t quite expected to receive, and even if her brother wouldn’t quite get it Rafiyah was fairly sure her Father would like Antoinette, or at least respect her. “Do you have any specific suggestions about when I should invite her?”
“No, although, do you intend to give her a gift with your answer?”
“Yes Father.” She wasn’t entirely sure what the traditions of Antoinette’s Family said about that, but an Ashawna woman gave her future sire a gift made by her own hands when she agreed to contract with him, and even if Rafiyah was going to another woman she’d been working on her gift for Antoinette since the possibility of contracting to her arose. “I’ve embroidered a set of bookmarks for her...but maybe I should buy a pretty box to present them to her in?” Was that appropriate? For part of her gift to be something she just bought, rather than something she made.
“How many bookmarks did you make?”
“Twenty-five. From what Antoinette has said she can use them all.” Apparently she often needed to mark places in a dozen or more books when she was researching her books. And if it hadn’t come off, well knotwork wasn’t a specifically feminine design, so she could have given them to anyone.
“Then yes, I think you should get a box to present them in. Do you need any money?”
“No Father, thank you.” Rafiyah smiled as she shook her head. “I wondered, will you allow me to take some of my planters with me when I leave?” She wasn’t sure what sort of gardens Antoinette had, and she’d set up the planters to look good alone, or together.
“You can take as many as Antoinette is willing to make room for in her gardens. Would you like me to tell your mother?”
“Yes please Father. I don’t...she’ll probably be surprised, and I don’t want to hear whatever she’ll say about it.” Not after hearing how poor her prospects were compared to her sisters so many times.
“Very well. You’ll still hear how she feels about it, but she will be more tactful if she has time to let it sink in first. Let me help you up, then you may go.”
~~~0~~~
Pairing: F/f
Rating: PG-13
Warning: implied sexual slavery, arranged marriages, non-traditional marriages
Word Count: approx 7,000
Summary: Armand suggests a way his sister Antoinette could heal the breach her first consorting created with their mother.
Feedback: Welcome as long as all criticism is constructive
Antoinette knocked on Armand’s door, hoping that her brother had a better idea of how to ease their mother’s displeasure at her over Sarah than she did. She didn’t regret taking Sarah as her consort; she’d found a love that she hadn’t expected with the IT advisor, and Sarah had made her feel beautiful and cherished in a way she’d never felt before. Even so the Terenev Natalya’s displeasure had worn on her more than she’d expected, even though her mother wasn’t petty enough to actually take punitive measures beyond removing Antoinette from the list of potential heirs - and making that fact known to the Family as she hadn’t with Terese.
It had been a moot point of course, as their mother had formally named Armand her heir less than a year later, on his thirtieth birthday, and scheduled his consorting for three months after that, but even so Antoinette wished that her mother didn’t disapprove of Sarah so strongly and badly wanted to reconcile with her somehow. But not badly enough to sever her contract with Sarah, never badly enough for that. It had hurt when Natalya had told her that Jasmine, her pleasure slave, would have been a better choice - or a more understandable choice - than Sarah was, but Sarah had made it clear from the very start that she’d support Antoinette and share the consequences of becoming her consort, no matter how her mother reacted.
“Please, come in Antoinette.” Hilary opened the door with a smile, and stepped back to let her past.
“Thank you. Did my brother tell you why he wanted to see me?” All he’d told her was that he wanted to talk about her consorting, and about what their mother had planned for her. She didn’t think Armand would have called for her to persuade her to abandon Sarah; Terese might have, if it didn’t conflict with her ambitions, but Armand had seemed to understand her decision, especially once he met Sarah.
“No, I’m afraid not. Whatever his idea is it’s something he thinks you should hear first. How are Sarah and Jasmine anyway?” Hilary shut the door behind them and began leading her through to wherever Armand was.
“They’re doing well.” Antoinette smiled as she spoke, wanting to gush about Sarah, but knowing that Hilary was probably more interested in Jasmine. “Sarah’s been put in charge of updating the accounting software at her job and Jasmine’s been asked to paint the covers for a new series from one of the better selling authors at Revan. Bryant’s on the brink of breaking out of the mid-list to bestseller status, and his sales are a lot more reliable than mine are yet.” Antoinette had been really proud of Jasmine for taking the initiative of talking to her publisher about painting the cover art for Antoinette’s books, and even more so when she had the sense to ask Antoinette to negotiate the exact terms of the contracts she supplied the art under.
“Does that mean she’s paid more for her art? And is she still enjoying painting?”
“No, Revan’s paying the same price for these covers as they have for the others she’s done, but it’s a secure contract, and painting is still a hobby for her, or a passion, not a job. That’s why she always delivers at least three different paintings for Revan to choose from, and refuses to allow them to have much in the way of control over what she paints.” And Antoinette had made sure that Jasmine retained the right to sell the original or prints of it if she wished to, even if Revan retained the right to recycle any of the paintings they accepted as covers of future books. That was fairly standard though; Antoinette’s first three books had all been given covers taken from a detail of the art for previous books.
“As long as she’s happy.” Hilary came to a halt and gestured at the door beside him. “Armand’s in his office; he wants to talk about this in private.”
“Thank you for guiding me then.” She knocked on the door, rather than just assuming Armand would be ready for her and walking in the way she had when she was younger.
“Come on in, Antoinette.” Armand had a pair of photos on the desk beside him, but Antoinette didn’t look, just stood in front of her brother as the supplicant she was.
“Armand, you wanted to discuss something with me?”
“Yes, sit down please.” Antoinette relaxed a little at the invitation. “Why didn’t you wait until Mother had confirmed me as her heir before you took Sarah as your consort? You never explained that to me, and I don’t think she’d have been so angry, or actively punished you if you’d waited.”
“She wouldn’t have had the option, not after confirming you as her heir.” Publicising the removal of a child as a potential heir among that Family was the most the Terenev could do to formally discipline any offspring who proved unsuitable, and Natalya had never been petty enough to resort to more severe or informal punishments that could tend to abuses of her power. That was why she’d dared take a consort of her choice, confident that Sarah wouldn’t suffer for it, although she’d appreciated the courage Sarah had shown, with the risk she’d believed she was taking. “But that embarrassment was little enough. What hurts is her current coldness towards me, her attitude towards Sarah, and the disappointment she displays so clearly, and my timing wouldn’t have changed any of that.”
“I think it would have. Mother wouldn’t have been so disappointed if you’d waited until you knew she had a good heir.”
“And if I’d only liked Sarah, wanted her and respected her the way I hoped to when I started courting her I probably would have been able to wait.” Or if Sarah had been worried enough about the possibility of losing her job to ask her to delay. “But I love her, and once Terese told me that she’d been eliminated as heir after Tonio failed his basic diploma we didn’t want to wait.” She shrugged and smiled at her brother. “Besides, I had every confidence you’d prove to be a good choice of heir.” By then he’d already demonstrated his understanding of many of their alliances and arranged three consortings within the Family.
“I appreciate your confidence in me then. Here, take a look at these.” He handed the two photos over to her, and Antoinette looked down to examine them, starting with the studio portrait.
The first thing Antoinette noticed was the scar, a ragged thing running from near the woman’s left temple across her cheek to twist the left corner of her mouth, giving her a discontented look. She’d turned her face to make sure the photo showed the scar in full, making no effort to disguise it. Would it be more or less obvious on paler skin? Antoinette couldn’t tell, still, even without the scar Antoinette didn’t think she’d be beautiful, only pretty. The same sort of pretty as her brother, Louis, where good make-up and a strong or engaging enough personality would create the illusion of beauty. And from the hint of defiance in her eyes, and the challenge that curved her lips she certainly had a strong enough personality to make you forget about her appearance in person. Despite the twist her lips were full and sensuous, her nose was broad and snubbed up just a little at the tip. She had broad cheeks and a high smooth brow, with large dark eyes, either black or a brown dark enough to be mistaken for it. Her hair was obviously long, past her shoulders, black and with just a hint of a curl. Antoinette had seen enough of that photo, and turned to the other one, equally posed, but this time showing the woman’s whole body.
She was wearing loose trousers and a high necked tunic with long arms, falling to the middle of her thighs, loose at her waist and maybe just a little tight across her breasts. Tight, or fitted perfectly, Antoinette couldn’t tell from the photo. She was partly supporting herself with a cane, meaning there had to be nerve damage or something similar - it was one thing to refuse cosmetic correction for a scar, and another altogether to deny yourself functionality. Her knuckles had paled a little from how tightly she was gripping her cane and her free hand rested on her left hip - or maybe it was pressed there, Antoinette couldn’t quite tell, but either way the pose drew attention to her curves, and to her slight lean. There was a distant look in her eyes, but Antoinette could see how she’d set her teeth - enduring the pain of shifting until the photographer found a pose to satisfy him perhaps? Or maybe she just didn’t like the knowledge that she was being photographed as more or less an advertisement for her potential as a consort - at least that was how Antoinette assumed Armand had acquired these photos.
“She seems very brave. Who is she?” Antoinette started to hand the photos back only for Armand to refuse to take them.
“Keep them, she’s called Rafiyah Ashawna, and Mother told me to try and work out how we can form a connection with her Family. It isn’t important enough to offer a connection through anything closer than one of our second cousins, and that only if was can offer a consort to the heir - Rafiyah’s brother. Do you think she’s attractive?”
“Yes. But if you want me to court her I’ll need to talk to Sarah about it. Do you really think she’d be willing to accept being only my second consort?” She hadn’t even talked with Sarah about the possibility of making Jasmine her second consort, but if she agreed to court Rafiyah that wouldn’t be an option unless or until Rafiyah refused her suit - although third consort would, if she succeeded and both Sarah and Rafiyah were agreeable.
“I don’t know, but she might, and given that our Family outranks hers considerably it should be enough to form the basis of a joint venture.”
“As long as her Family - or at least the Ashawna - is willing to acknowledge their inferior position that is. I understand what you want me to do.” And he was right, if she could bring an alliance to the Family, even when she was already attached to Sarah, her mother would probably start to judge Sarah on her own merits, instead of as an obstacle to her plans for Antoinette.
“Thank you. Would you care to stay for a drink and a snack?” Armand stood as he spoke, and Antoinette followed his example.
“Yes please.” She generally liked her brother, and now that they’d finished the formal portion of her visit it would be good to catch up with him and his household.
Rafiyah absently traced the carving on the handle of her cane as she watched the dancers, trying to stave off boredom by speculating about one or another of them and guessing which of the unfamiliar faces were of the Families, and which present only by the grace of their lovers. She didn’t mind being left to sit and watch so much when she was having a bad day, but even then she always appreciated it when one of her sisters would come and sit with her to rest for a while. A shift in the crowd drew her attention, and she looked to see what had caused it, drawing a breath of arousal at the sight she found.
A magnificent woman was stalking towards her. Taller than most men and muscled to match she was nonetheless abundantly female. Admittedly her narrow waist could have been male, but the hips below it most certainly were not, and neither were the high, firm - if somewhat small - breasts under the velvet of her tunic. A mane of hair fell back over her broad shoulders, its ripened wheat shade bright against the deep red of the tunic, and she moved with a fighter’s grace as she avoided the more inattentive pairs. She couldn’t think what someone like that would want with her, but Rafiyah had let her father settle her in a fairly well hidden nook tonight, so the woman’s target was unmistakeable, and she put her cane down against the chair to her right in preparation for the woman’s arrival.
“Hello, I’m Antoinette Terenev.” She went to one knee in front of Rafiyah as she offered her hand, glancing down at the cane by Rafiyah’s side with a hint of disappointment. “Would it be an imposition to ask you to dance?”
Rafiyah knew it was only the contrast with her own dark skin that made the olive gold of Antoinette’s skin seem so pale as she enclosed Rafiyah’s hand in her own, shaking it as if she didn’t realise Rafiyah was destined to be a consort, or live her life as her brother’s dependent. Looking up at her face it was clear her skin was only a few shades lighter than her hair, and slightly browner too. Her almond shaped eyes were a dark blue, emphasised by her darkened eyelashes, and she’d painted her lips in a warm brown, the minimal make-up somehow softening the strong, almost masculine, lines of her face, without weakening them. Her offer was incredibly tempting; Rafiyah enjoyed dancing when her hip allowed it, and if she could accept maybe her conversation would interest Antoinette enough for her to sit with her afterwards.
“I’m Rafiyah Ashawna, and I don’t want to leave my cane behind.” She shrugged her left shoulder before Antoinette released her hand, wishing that there was someone nearby she could trust to leave her cane with. It was a good day for her after all, and she’d only brought it as a precaution, but she didn’t want to risk someone deciding to hide it. “There are too many of the Family drones here for me to be certain it would remain where I left it. I’ve had it hidden at parties like this before.”
“I see.” There was a hint of anger in Antoinette’s voice as she rose to her feet, but it was gone by the time she spoke her next request. “Then might I simply sit with you and talk?”
“If that is what you wish.” Rafiyah lowered her eyes, since more than one man had complained about the ‘insolence’ her preferred direct gaze displayed, and she didn’t want to drive away the only company she’d had in the two hours since her arrival.
“Yes, it is.” Antoinette sat down on Rafiyah’s left, and Rafiyah shifted to see her more fully from under lowered lashes. “I see that your father must be fairly liberal.”
“Yes, he is. I take it you know we are a patriarchal Family then?” As that would be the only reason she would refer to Rafiyah’s father and deduce his liberality from the scar on her face.
“Even if I hadn’t already known it, your change of behaviour would have informed me. Such mannerisms are only forced in gender-biased Families.” There was a hint of contempt in Antoinette’s voice, raising Rafiyah’s temper.
“You dislike the appearance of modesty then?” She didn’t quite glare at Antoinette, but she knew that her stare was a clear challenge, and she intended to stand by it.
“Only when it’s created by artificial behaviour; I prefer to deal with people who are not putting on some sort of act for my benefit.” There was a hint of bitterness there, what could have caused that? But Antoinette did have a point, at least if she intended more than a single conversation with Rafiyah. And it showed a very good eye for nuance.
“Sometimes it’s hard to tell what behaviour is artificial; my sisters responded much better to deportment training than I did.”
“And for them those self-effacing displays of submission might be comfortable and comforting, almost natural. But your strength of will is written on your face.” Oh, that was what she was after. She was good.
“If you want to ask about the scar you can just ask. I won’t be offended.” Antoinette blinked, almost as if it wasn’t what she’d been fishing for.
“Very well. I’ll be blunt if that would make you feel more comfortable?” Antoinette paused long enough for Rafiyah to nod; at least on this issue she would prefer a blunt question rather than subtle hints and veiled insinuations. “Was it your choice to keep it?”
That really wasn’t the question she’d been expecting and Rafiyah hesitated over how much to tell Antoinette. “Yes, I was conscious long enough to tell the doctors that I didn’t want them to do anything to minimise the scarring there.” Antoinette looked surprised by that. “Would you have done otherwise?”
“Yes, at least if I would be going into surgery anyway, and working on my face wouldn’t get in the way of more important issues.” She tilted her head to one side with a faint smile. “Since we’re on the subject of appearances, there seems to be something odd about your tunic, but I can’t quite tell what it is.”
“It’s custom cut, to compensate for how I lean on my cane when I walk.” She let her distaste for the idea flavour her words, but it wasn’t something she had enough influence to change; her father had backed up her mother’s insistence on formalwear that helped to disguise her weakness, making her cane look more like an affectation and less like the necessity it often was.
“Ah, I see. I didn’t think about that.” Antoinette glanced up with a frown. “Would you be willing to give me your contact details?”
“Of course.” She liked Antoinette and it would be good to talk with her again - and it seemed Antoinette shared her desire if she wanted Rafiyah’s contact details. “And will you give me yours in return?”
“Naturally.” Antoinette pulled her cards from her belt purse while Rafiyah fished hers from the pocket near the cuff of her right sleeve, and they exchanged cards as two more women approached them. “I’m sorry, I wanted to spend more time talking with you alone, but it seems I need to make some introductions now.”
She stood and moved to greet the two women, neither coming much past her shoulders in height; Rafiyah heard the one in black apologising for coming over, and explaining that a man called Shoucheng had been harassing the other woman, Jasmine.
“I’m not surprised; he’s one of the drones, and his Family’s almost as powerful as ours. I should have asked Armand or Terese to stay with you. Come on, I should introduce you both to Rafiyah.” She led the two women forward as she spoke. “Rafiyah, this is my consort Sarah Trimble. Sarah, this is Rafiyah Ashawna.”
“Hello Sarah.” She held out her hand to Sarah in greeting, smiling to hide her disappointment at learning the woman she’d found so tempting, and who’d seemed to return her interest was already spoken for. But then Antoinette hadn’t even been flirting with her; her actions could have been overtures of friendship and she quickly assessed Sarah as the woman shook her hand.
She was barely pretty, if that, coppery hair cut short in a feathery crop, pale blue eyes set in a narrow face. She clearly had no idea how to make the best of her body - it looked like she had good breasts, but she’d chosen to wear an oversized black shirt to accommodate (or hide) them, making it baggy at the waist and hips, and giving her skin an unhealthy pallor. And she didn’t seem that comfortable socialising from her subdued response; Antoinette had to really love Sarah to take her as a first consort instead of saving herself for whatever alliance the Terenev wanted from her - and then not insist that she learn to either judge what clothes suited her better or to take advice from someone who already had that sort of judgement.
“And this is my companion Jasmine, Jasmine, Rafiyah Ashawna.”
Companion; that had to be Terenev code for pleasure slave; Jasmine was absolutely gorgeous and the epitome of graceful submission. Her eyes were lowered demurely as she offered her hand, a faint smile on her lips and her other hand gathering her full skirts. The bodice of her dark green dress was fitted closely to her trim waist, with a deep sweetheart neckline revealing an impressive cleavage. Her skin was almost the same shade as the dark amber ornaments holding her chestnut hair in an upswept style, and she wore a large emerald pendant that matched her dangling teardrop earrings.
“Hello Jasmine.”
“I am honoured to meet you Rafiyah.” She glanced up then, meeting Rafiyah’s eyes for a brief moment, before continuing. “Might we sit with you for a while?”
“Yes, of course.” It was polite of Jasmine to ask, but hardly necessary, and Rafiyah hid her surprise that she was the one asking. “Although...is that offer to dance still open Antoinette?” The current tune was coming to an end, so now was a good time to ask.
“Certainly. I take it you’d like Sarah and Jasmine to look after your cane while we dance?”
“If they don’t mind. And...it will have to be a slow dance, not a fast one.” Rafiyah stood as she spoke, hiding the twinge of pain in her hip as she stepped forward towards Antoinette.
“A simple waltz then?” The new tune seemed suited for that, and Rafiyah nodded as Antoinette guided her towards the dance floor.
Antoinette kept an eye on the coffeshop door as she worked on the copy-edits, to make sure she didn’t miss Rafiyah’s arrival. She’d just finished the mocha she’d ordered when Rafiyah arrived and she quickly stood to draw the other woman’s attention, leaving her work on the table as she moved towards her, tucking one or two stray chairs in to clear the way as she went.
“Hello Rafiyah. Would it help if I offered you my arm?”
“No Antoinette.” Rafiyah shook her head with a smile. “But thank you, and you’ve already helped me as much as you can by clearing the way for me.”
“I was here early, so I had the time to make sure you’d have a clear path to walk.”
“And I see no one interfered with your arrangements too much.” Rafiyah sounded amused, and Antoinette took up a position at her left hand, to lend support if needed, while trying not to crowd her.
“No, there weren’t many people here when I arrived, and you’re only the fifth person to arrive since I have. I thought you’d prefer a table that was tucked against a wall, so you could rest your cane against it more easily.”
“And where I don’t have to risk people tripping or stumbling into me.” Rafiyah’s easy agreement and humour told Antoinette that she’d been right. “What did you bring to occupy yourself while you were waiting?” Rafiyah turned her head to glance at Antoinette briefly, before biting her lip and looking forward again, but casting her eyes down this time. “That is if it isn’t too personal to discuss.”
“Oh, I brought a copy of the proofs I’ve been working on to correct while I waited. They’re only part of the book though, and a later part at that.” Towards the end of the last book in the contracted trilogy as a matter of fact. Antoinette wasn’t entirely certain it was a good idea for the three books to be first released in consecutive months, but Revan’s marketing department wanted to try it, and it wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford to take the gamble.
“Oh, I see. I brought some embroidery in case I was the first to arrive, are you under much pressure to get those proofs finished?”
“No, I’m nearly finished with them, and I’ve got another month to get them back to my publisher.” Antoinette shrugged as she pulled out a chair for Rafiyah with a glance. “I just don’t want to start work, or even research, on a new book while I’m putting the final polish on this project.”
“Ah, and you don’t have anything else that is equally portable to amuse yourself with.”
“Not really, no. What would you like to drink, and do you want anything to eat?”
“Do they have any chocolate cake? And I’d like a mocha please.” Rafiyah smiled up at Antoinette as she spoke, leaning her cane against the wall and table.
“I’ll leave you to get settled then while I get the coffee and cakes.” She turned then, picking up her empty cup and saucer and frowning as she saw that at least two people had arrived at the shop while she was escorting Rafiyah to their table. It didn’t really matter whether she could be served at once of course, but she hoped that these arrivals had just been coincidence, or at most people in the service of Rafiyah’s Family, asked to watch over her, rather than a sign that the shop was soon to become more crowded. There wasn’t anyone after her as she asked for two slices of chocolate cake and two mochas anyway, so Antoinette dismissed it as she collected the drinks and took the tray back to Rafiyah.
“Could you just take everything off the tray while I hold it?” She didn’t think the tray would be easy to balance on the table while leaving enough room to transfer the cups and plates, not with her work in three piles, one more messy than the others.
“Of course.” Rafiyah had pulled out her embroidery while Antoinette was waiting to be served, and she set it to one side to transfer the cups and plates to the table, one at a time to avoid any spills. “Were you waiting long?”
“Maybe half an hour, possibly a bit more. I had to take Jasmine to Revan for a meeting, so I came here once I’d dropped her off.” Antoinette leaned the tray against the table leg as she sat down, wondering why Rafiyah seemed suddenly crestfallen.
“Oh, then you won’t be able to spend that much time here, will you?”
“I can spend at least a couple of hours with you; Jasmine knows how to contact me when the meeting’s finished, and it’s scheduled to take something like three hours, or longer.” Probably longer while they argued over which of her twenty plus concept sketches she should turn into full paintings. Bryant would be pretty agreeable - Antoinette wondered if part of his success came from his amiability when it came to marketing - but she’d been there for some of the fights between agents, editors and marketing reps.
“Oh, good. I know we just agreed to meet for coffee, but I thought it might be nice to go shopping with you.” Rafiyah smiled, putting her embroidery away, and looking pointedly at Antoinette’s work.
“There’s no reason not to.” Not if Rafiyah felt up to it. Antoinette didn’t have a good feel for how much the other woman could do with her leg the way it was. “Anything you want to look for in particular, or just whatever catches your eye?”
“Whatever catches my eye, unless there’s something you’d like to look for?”
“No, there isn’t.” Antoinette shook her head with a smile, organising her proofs to put away, before glancing down below Rafiyah’s neck, wishing she was wearing something that showed maybe a hint of cleavage. “I’m willing to go wherever you want me to. Do you want to look for clothes, jewellery, or something else?”
“If it wouldn’t bore you I saw a needlework shop just a few shops along, and I’d like to see what sort of fabrics they have.” It didn’t sound particularly interesting, but Rafiyah seemed enthusiastic about the idea.
“If that’s what you’d like I’m perfectly willing to serve as your escort.”
“Are you flirting with me?” It wasn’t an outraged demand at least, but Rafiyah didn’t seem pleased with her realisation.
“Yes, I am.” She really wanted to court Rafiyah, but that wouldn’t be easy, so she’d been trying to build up to it. But maybe that was the wrong approach. “I do find you attractive - the scar doesn’t detract from your brains, your character or your figure. I talked to Sarah about this after Armand made his suggestion for easing my mother’s displeasure about my choice of consort, and she agreed.”
“And how serious is your mother’s displeasure?”
“On a personal level, it hurts that she’s become distant towards me, and worse, she’s hurting Sarah with how little she accepts her, and how poorly she regards her.” Antoinette hadn’t realised how much Sarah had been hurt by her mother’s behaviour, or how guilty she felt about it, and she wondered just how much that guilt had motivated her to agree with Armand’s idea. “The most she could really do to punish me was tell the Family that I was off the list of potential heirs, rather than simply confirming it in private, but...she’s treating me as if I were irresponsible now.” And it wasn’t just about Antoinette’s decision to focus on her writing rather than keep on working at one of the Family offices - she’d made that decision when Revan had asked her to contract for this trilogy, before she signed her contract with Sarah.
“Confirming it? From the outside it’s pretty hard to tell what the rules are for the Terenev to pick her heir, is it a Family secret, or can you discuss it?”
“I don’t know everything about how you can be disqualified as a potential heir, but the two rules the Terenev Anya laid down are that the heir must be as well educated as possible - now that tends to mean at least one degree - and make an alliance with the consort he takes. I could have waited until Armand was confirmed as heir, he asked me why I didn’t, but I was confident by then that he would be confirmed on his next birthday. And I’d fallen in love with Sarah.” Antoinette leaned forward, watching Rafiyah’s reactions, pleased to note that she seemed more sympathetic to her, less offended by the notion of being flirted with.
“Lucky you, having a competent brother. Mine’s an idiot. And Father can’t disinherit him, not without a second son as an alternative heir, and even then only if he actually commits some sort of crime.”
“And he doesn’t want to offend his consort’s Family by taking a second consort to give him a smarter son?” That or he loved his consort just as much as Antoinette loved Sarah, and she wasn’t willing to agree to a second consort.
“Omar’s an idiot, but he’s pretty law-abiding, so there’d be no point in Father trying to get a second son.” Antoinette probably deserved the hint of contempt in Rafiyah’s voice. “On the other hand he can name a grandson as his heir - whichever of Omar’s sons he thinks would do best, as long as he can live long enough to see his grandson reach his majority.”
“I don’t get that, how is it alright for him to skip over his son, and then pick his heir from his grandsons, but not for him to choose the most suitable son as his heir?”
“How should I know?” Rafiyah shrugged her answer. “You didn’t know that much about how your mother chose from her children to select her heir, and you had a chance of succeeding her. I only know that he’d prefer a grandson as his heir because he’s been asking me about potential consorts for Omar; which women are smart enough to manoeuvre him into leading the Family better if it comes to that, and might give him smart grandchildren. I...do you really find me attractive? I just called you stupid, or as good as.”
“Twice, because I was being stupid, and I like that you were willing to call me on it.” She’d met Sarah when she’d come up from IT to help Antoinette with a problem with her computer, and chewed her out afterwards for causing it. This seemed like a time to be blunt, she thought Rafiyah would respect that more than the indirect hints she’d been offering earlier, now that her intentions were out in the open. “So, might I court you?”
“Yes, you may.”
“You summoned me Father?” Rafiyah paused in the doorway of the office, waiting for confirmation that she was invited.
“Yes, come in.” He turned away from his desk as he spoke, picking up a shallow wooden box. “And don’t kneel.”
Rafiyah nodded at that, but didn’t alter her course, standing just behind the cushion she’d intended to kneel on, the one her Father kept for women of the Family who came to petition him, or deal with Family business at his command.
“This gift was sent to you, through my hands, from Antoinette Terenev.” Rafiyah blinked as she accepted the box, holding it carefully in one hand; she hadn’t expected Antoinette to be this formal about offering a contract. “Would you care to sit down to open it?”
“Yes Father.” Rafiyah sat on the nearest chair, resting her cane on her lap before opening the box. There was a note resting on top of folded red fabric shot with gold, and she read that first.
‘Dear Rafiyah,
‘Mother included proposals for an alliance with your Family sealed by our consorting in the package for your father accompanying this gift, in addition to my own offer to contract with you.
‘I hope to see you wearing my gift the next time we meet.
Love, Antoinette.’
She smiled as she put the note down, lifting the fabric out of the box and opening it to reveal a beautiful, sheer silk scarf, about the same size as a double quilt, maybe a little smaller. Antoinette had gauged her gift nicely; this scarf was top quality, a colour that Rafiyah liked and that suited her, and perfect to wear as a scarf, throw, or veil, showing that she respected Rafiyah and her Family, but it didn’t draw attention to their lesser status compared to the Terenevs as jewellery would. Underneath the scarf there were ten skeins of gorgeous variegated silk as well.
“Do you wish to read the note, Father?” She fished it out from under the scarf covering her lap, and offered it up to him, returning it to the box when he waved it off.
“No need. I found it rather blunt.” Her surprise must have shown, because he hastily qualified his statement. “For a note sent to a proposed consort anyway.”
“Ah, I see.” Rafiyah began roughly folding the scarf up again as she spoke. “Antoinette knows me well enough to realise I’d see it as a compliment that she didn’t feel the need to coddle and cajole me by denying the pragmatic aspects of this consorting. I...will you approve of it?”
“I don’t like the idea. You should be first consort, not second, or possibly even third.” But something in her Father’s voice told Rafiyah that he’d be open to persuasion.
“You have mentioned that we need links with one of the business oriented Families, and the Terenevs are among the best of those.” That obviously wasn’t what he was concerned about, but she could use it as a starting point to expand on. “Antoinette’s courtship of me was initially prompted by the fact that her mother does think we’d make useful allies, but she was honest about her motivations from the moment I actually realised she was interested in me.”
“I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for the Family.” Her Father rested a hand on her shoulder as he spoke. “If you’re that worried about ending up under Omar’s control I can find a man with a short life expectancy to take you as a consort long enough to give you your independence.” He’d made that offer before, and Rafiyah just smiled as she glanced up at him, then shook her head.
“No Father, I’ve told you, I don’t like the idea of using someone like that and even if I did there’s always the chance of it backfiring with my sire having a miraculous recovery, leaving me bound to a stranger.” And a commoner to boot, since she didn’t think any man of the Families would need to agree to her Father’s offer. Possibly with an inadequate contract too, one that didn’t protect her the way it should since it would have been written on the assumption that her sire wouldn’t live long enough to have any real power over her. “And...it wouldn’t be a sacrifice becoming Antoinette’s consort.”
“It wouldn’t?” He lifted his hand, moving around the chair until she could see him without twisting and she could tell that he wanted to believe her, wanted her to convince him that he should approve of Antoinette’s proposal, and it scared her that she could see it.
“If I was willing to sacrifice myself for the Family I’d have let the surgeons do something about this scar.” She lifted her hand to her cheek with a soft, almost bitter, laugh. She’d sort of known that being scarred would stop the pressure on her to become a traditional, compliant woman - and it had made the idiot’s Family more willing to offer compensation to her. “Antoinette is magnificent, and she pays attention to me and what I want. She doesn’t just follow rote ‘courtesy’, and she doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable with my scar or my cane.” Rafiyah despised rote ‘courtesy’, the type that assumed all women were the same, all weak and fragile, and all men were strong and honourable, and even some of her Family still had issues with her scar or cane. “She makes me feel desirable, and she doesn’t care that I’m insolent. I’ve called her stupid to her face, more than once, and she just agrees with me if she thinks I called it right, or ignores it if she doesn’t.”
“You trust her then.”
“Yes Father, I do.” At least as much as she trusted her Father, and more than she trusted Omar, or most of her sisters.
“Enough to risk a poorly negotiated contract? One that wouldn’t give you all the protections I would negotiate for you?” That was a dangerous question, and even though Rafiyah would have liked to give an unqualified yes, she couldn’t.
“As long as I get control of my dowry in the event of contract breach or dissolution.” That was pretty much standard for women from their Family as far as she knew, but Rafiyah had to articulate it if she wanted her Father to trust her judgement on this.
“I’ll make sure Omar knows to get that at least, and that I’ll be reviewing the final result. I’ll negotiate the ancillary contracts directly with the Terenev, but I’ll want Omar to negotiate your consorting contract...with her heir I suppose.” From the sound of it that was the only way he’d agree to her becoming Antoinette’s consort, so Rafiyah nodded, even though she didn’t entirely like it.
“I understand Father. Omar needs to learn these things, and it won’t do any harm if he makes mistakes in this. But I would prefer it if you allowed me to take the answer to Antoinette myself.”
“You may issue an invitation for her to make an overnight visit here if you wish. As long as she understands that she’ll be sleeping in one of the guest rooms. I want to meet her properly anyway.”
“Yes Father, thank you.” It was a sign of acceptance, one she hadn’t quite expected to receive, and even if her brother wouldn’t quite get it Rafiyah was fairly sure her Father would like Antoinette, or at least respect her. “Do you have any specific suggestions about when I should invite her?”
“No, although, do you intend to give her a gift with your answer?”
“Yes Father.” She wasn’t entirely sure what the traditions of Antoinette’s Family said about that, but an Ashawna woman gave her future sire a gift made by her own hands when she agreed to contract with him, and even if Rafiyah was going to another woman she’d been working on her gift for Antoinette since the possibility of contracting to her arose. “I’ve embroidered a set of bookmarks for her...but maybe I should buy a pretty box to present them to her in?” Was that appropriate? For part of her gift to be something she just bought, rather than something she made.
“How many bookmarks did you make?”
“Twenty-five. From what Antoinette has said she can use them all.” Apparently she often needed to mark places in a dozen or more books when she was researching her books. And if it hadn’t come off, well knotwork wasn’t a specifically feminine design, so she could have given them to anyone.
“Then yes, I think you should get a box to present them in. Do you need any money?”
“No Father, thank you.” Rafiyah smiled as she shook her head. “I wondered, will you allow me to take some of my planters with me when I leave?” She wasn’t sure what sort of gardens Antoinette had, and she’d set up the planters to look good alone, or together.
“You can take as many as Antoinette is willing to make room for in her gardens. Would you like me to tell your mother?”
“Yes please Father. I don’t...she’ll probably be surprised, and I don’t want to hear whatever she’ll say about it.” Not after hearing how poor her prospects were compared to her sisters so many times.
“Very well. You’ll still hear how she feels about it, but she will be more tactful if she has time to let it sink in first. Let me help you up, then you may go.”
