The lady squeaked pitifully, red filling her cheeks like molten metal filled a mold in a forge. Steam seemed about to follow.
“My lady!”
“I-is she okay?”
“It’s complicated, you see…”
Melody told Lect about the proposal from Maxwell, the invitation to attend the Summer Ball as his partner.
Lect considered. “Lord Reclentos said that?”
“He delivered a formal missive personally just before we departed the capital,” Melody said. “My lady still hasn’t wrapped her head around it.”
“You departed two weeks ago. She still hasn’t reached a decision?”
“We’ve been…indisposed.”
“Right. I imagine so.”
Lect recalled the pile of rubble he’d glimpsed outside the estate. He hadn’t asked but did not need to in order to discern that they’d met with trouble here in the north. Luciana’s lapse in memory appeared to him as a matter of course.
“So how do you intend to respond?” he asked.
“What do you think I’m losing my head over, genius?!” Luciana shot back.
“My lady,” Melody said, “is there a particular reason you can’t accept?”
“A reason?” Luciana sat stunned. She hadn’t thought of it like that. “I…suppose there isn’t one.”
“Then what’s there to fuss over?” Lect said. “You’re by no means obligated to accept like you may have been during the Spring Ball, so what is there to lose by indulging him?”
“I just…”
Luciana was confused all over again. Why was she making such a big deal out of this?
They’re right. There’s nothing holding me back, she thought. But there’s nothing pushing me to accept either. Other than avoiding the awkward situation of having no one to dance with and being able to say I went to the Summer Ball with the lord chancellor’s son, I suppose. So why am I fussing?
Maxwell’s voice echoed in her mind. “Would you believe me if I told you that I would simply like to dance with you again?”
Luciana shrieked.
“My lady!”
Luciana buried her face against the couch. Maxwell’s smile taunted her, his choice of words tormenting her memories. Lect could only look on blankly.
“My lady, what’s wrong?!” Melody cried again.
“I can’t do it! I don’t have a reason! I just can’t!”
“You can’t? And for no reason? Does attending with Max—with Lord Maxwell offend you?”
Luciana shook her head as best she could with it pressed into a cushion. The crimson in her ears betrayed her expression.
He doesn’t offend her, but still she refuses? Why? Melody could not comprehend her lady. Matters of love, to her, went only as far as her skirt hovered above the ground. A shame she had not inherited her father’s intuition.
But Lect was a man in love and well aware of its debilitating effects. “I think I understand, Lady Luciana. You’re self-conscious.”
“Self-conscious?” Melody said. “About what?”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Luciana blurted.
The knight jerked to the side, and just in time. His reflexes saved him from a most harmless fate.
Thwack! Luciana smacked the sofa with her harisen right where Lect had been.
“My lady! Calm yourself!” Melody said.
“Th-there’s being shy, and then there’s this!” Lect cried.
He dodged again. Luciana’s battle with Garmr had awakened something in her, her dancer-like agility manifesting in this embarrassment-fueled rage. Even with all his training, the knight barely dodged out of the way of her strikes.
“That’s enough, my lady!”
“Don’t! Talk! To! Me!” the madwoman cried out between frantic swings. The shame. The indignity. That Lect of all people should read her so perfectly. She might never recover.
Luciana had spent her whole childhood out here in the rural backcountry that comprised her family’s demesne, far removed from concepts such as “romance” and “relationships.” And while what she felt for Maxwell was certainly not love in the strictest sense, the fact remained that he represented many things for her. He had been her first escort. Her first dance partner. He was a man, and he was a special one. Where did those lines cross?
Maxwell’s first invitation had come at Melody’s behest. That time, context insulated the situation and numbed Luciana to the reality of it. This time, however, she could not hide from the truth. Maxwell, that vaguely platonic yet special man, had personally requested her company.
That this pleased Luciana she could not deny. Pride welled up at having impressed him enough at the last ball that he sought her out again. But that clashed with her humility. Was she sullying the young lord’s earnest invitation with petty self-gratification? It all came together in a volatile amalgam of shame that was now in the process of erupting.
In short, Luciana was self-conscious.
Another shriek. Another thwack.
“I hope I’m not asking too much for her to come back to her senses sometime soon!” Lect grunted as he dodged.
“My lady, please!”
She’s self-conscious over Max’s invitation? So then why is she acting like this? Melody’s mental gears turned. Because she’s embarrassed. Which would mean she really does want to accept but can’t bring herself to say so for some reason. In which case…
Lect reached his limit. He was quite literally backed into a corner and beginning to lose his footing. He stood wide-open. Even a madwoman could see that.
Luciana raised her harisen high.
“My lady!” Melody shouted. “I’ll accept Lect’s invitation, so you accept Max’s, and we’ll go to the ball together!”
The harisen froze a hair from its target. The red in Luciana’s face drained away. Still frozen in striking position, she turned her head toward the maid as if on a swivel. “We’ll go…together?”
“That’s right. If shyness is what’s holding you back, well, I’ve the perfect excuse to join you right here. With me at your side, my lady, you’ll have nothing to fear!” She threw her arms out in a dramatic show of confidence. “Your needs will be my number-one priority! I swear it on my maidly honor!”
Tears welled in Luciana’s eyes. The harisen became an innocuous fan as she flew into her maid’s bosom. “Melody!”
With a yipe, the maid toppled backward onto the sofa. “Goodness, my lady! Be more careful!”
“I’m sorry, I just… Thank you, Melody!”
“No thanks necessary. I am at your service, my lady.” Melody gently stroked her sniffling lady’s hair. “Which is to say, Lect, I accept your invitation.”
Lect grunted, his expression a complicated conflict of emotion. “I see.”
He did not know what to think about the fact that Luciana had tipped the scales for his beloved, so he stopped trying.
Luciana shot up from Melody’s chest. “Wait, no! You can’t go with this…this fork-tongued philanderer, Melody! It’s too dangerous!”
“Philanderer?” Melody said. “We shall have to discuss just where you’ve been learning such vocabulary, my lady, but I promise you there’s nothing to worry about. Lect would never hurt me. He’s my friend!”
Lect recoiled, throwing his hand over his heart.
“Yes. You know what? You’re right,” Luciana said. “He is your friend. A loyal friend to the end, our Sir Froude.”
Lect’s grip on his chest tightened.
I nearly forgot. Sir Salacious is as gutless as he is two-faced, Luciana thought. Schue and Uncle are putting me on edge.
Hubert, her own family, had especially inspired her possessive side, the depths of which she’d yet to fully glimpse. The Jealous Witch was alive and well.
“I’ll have to prepare a dress when we return to the capital,” Melody mused.
“That’s right! We will! I can’t wait!” Luciana said.
“‘We’? My lady, you’ll have no time for distractions, I assure you.”
“Paula mentioned having some ideas,” Lect said. “I don’t think you’ll have any problems there, Melody.”
“Oh, did she? That’s exciting.”
“No fair!” Luciana exclaimed. “I want to help!”
And so Cecilia was reborn. But just what sort of chaos would await her this time?