Page 43 of Summer

Tomorrow is very far away, isn’t it?

19

SUMMER

The weeks blend together – balls, dances, awkward suppers, late nights in Gennelle’s room. We are a mere two weeks from the wedding, and almost all the details are secured. Aaoric assures me he can find remains to hide in the carriage. I need only a few hours with the carriage to wire it appropriately to where Aaoric can have it combust with his comm device.

Every stroll along the property is a goodbye of sorts. Is this the last time I will walk this particular path? If it weren’t for Protegre, this would have been the longest I’ve spent on any planet since leaving Earth.

Hothin has its appeal, I will admit that. The purple grass is charming, and Celvae has so many shops I’ve yet to explore. Rikkie, Wrunga and Poliope became fast friends once Rikkie shed her careful exterior of cattiness. They’ve accepted Gennelle back into their fold after what I’m sure is years of her protesting.

Gennelle. There’s something that lingers there, a restraint I’ve yet to pick through. I want to dismantle every lock that she’s closed, every wall she’s raised to prevent the world from knowing her. If only I had more time.

But it’s more than that, isn’t it? Is it fair to lay her bare and then abandon her? That’s what I’d be doing – taming the bear, then releasing it into the wild without knowing what it’s meant to do on its own.

No, someone else will have to untangle Gennelle. I can undo a knot, but I cannot keep it from tangling once more.

An errant thought flashes through my mind, one I’ve tried to bury. She could die with me. Her body could combust with mine, and we could disappear together.

The thought is preposterous – what does she know of space? All she knows is this copse of planets that cosplay regency Earth. What will she do when she sees females don’t dress in long dresses everywhere else? It’s more than that – Gennelle without the estate is not Gennelle.

Even now she works – we’ve walked to one of the homes that Vestinhoths landlord over. Gennelle bends her head close to the patriarch of the family, listening to his dispute with their neighbor. The neighbor stands nearby, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for his turn.

Aaoric watches with disinterest, his gaze far off. The last few days, he’s been particularly moody, but no matter how I press, he won’t tell me the reason. Aaoric is another creature that holds his cards close to his chest. Aaoric doesn’t hide behind walls of indifference like his sister. He chooses to be carefree, act as though every insult or attack bounces off him. For the third time this afternoon, his gaze darts to the path we took to get here.

Gennelle settles the dispute at long last, promising to call on the family tomorrow to ensure both parties are upholding their end of the bargain. She sighs as she links arms with me.

“Sorry, they are a particularly quarrelsome bunch,” she says.

I shrug. I want to tell her I like to see her working, that I find it fascinating to watch her do inventory, to add and subtract in her head. She furrows her brow as she does it, her mind tracing each item and its final destination. When she’s annoyed, the vein along the left side of her temple pulsates.

“Good thing they’ve such a diplomatic gentlelady to set them straight,” I tease. My reward is her smile, shy and sneaky, before we continue down the path.

The sound of footsteps on the path have us all turning to see Sessaly plodding up the path. She freezes when she catches sight of us, her eyes wide before she averts them to the ground.

Strange – nothing between Gennelle and me implies any intimacy beyond friendship. I frown and look myself over, catching Aaoric’s stricken face in the process. His cheeks redden, his own gaze darting off to the distance.

“Sessaly,” greets Gennelle, oblivious to the discomfort.

“My lady,” Sessaly says, dipping into a curtsy. She ducks her face under her bonnet, but it does little to hide the way the blue veins in her neck darken. “The duchess has requested your presence following afternoon tea.”

Gennelle’s muscles tighten, her grip on my arm viselike. Her mother presses every ball about her suitors, about any prospects. The last two balls she didn’t bother to ask, and we thought she’d been leaning away now that Aaoric’s wedding was closer. Too busy with floral arrangements, invitations – things I avoided. Thankfully, the duchess has decided it is her duty to plan the entire event regardless of my opinions.

“Very well,” Gennelle says tersely. “Tell her I shan’t be late.”

Sessaly dips into another curtsy and stumbles over herself to escape. Gennelle shoots her brother a withering glare, which he pointedly avoids.

“What have you done?” Gennelle asks him in Tatinnish.

“Why must it be something I’ve done? Perhaps she’s grown tired of me,” he replies petulantly.

Realization snaps into place so hard I reel. “Oh!” I cry, before I can stop myself.

Gennelle turns her glare on me, before her face morphs in realization. Despite her promises to add the language to it we’d always been too occupied when alone together. “Your translator…”

“My translator? Your brother! You!” I say, pointing to Aaoric.

He glances around then takes a step toward us, raising his hands. “If you’d lower your voice,” he growls.