The Boy with the Porcelain Blade (29 page)

30

Tegenaria Duellica
LUCIEN’S APARTMENT
–
Maggio
313

‘That’s dreadful,’ complained Stephania as Achilles bit the head off a cricket. The insect’s legs continued to pedal the empty air until the drake consumed it entirely. ‘Are they always like this?’

Lucien nodded, eying her intently. She was the image of her mother, just coming into her birthright of an hourglass figure the equal of Duchess Prospero’s. It was for the best that she had not acquired any of her father’s features. She shared her mother’s taste in gowns, although decidedly less provocative. Her coiffed hair was always immaculate, matched by flawless olive skin. Many of the bravos of House Fontein spoke of lusting for her.

Lucien idly wondered which of his parents’ attributes stared back at him from the looking glass. Did he share any aspect of their temperaments? Or any of their intellectual gifts? He’d never know, he realised, masking his loss in front of Stephania, who remained oblivious.

‘And my mother thought I’d be interested in this?’ She pouted and looked away to the windows, shuddering theatrically. Lucien plucked at his lip, not knowing what to say.

‘Do you know the
capo
?’ she asked brightly.

‘I think I insulted him once. Isn’t he—’

‘Very good-looking,’ interrupted Stephania, suddenly serious. Lucien shrugged his shoulders and stole a glance at Rafaela, who stood by the door into his apartment from the corridor. She refused to meet his eye. As Lucien’s appointed maid, she was required to act as chaperone. Stephania’s own maid perused Lucien’s bookshelves, ignoring everyone.

‘He’s an accomplished horseman too,’ added Stephania.

‘I’d heard he was a rider,’ said Lucien, but Dino was too young to understand the joke and Stephania chose to ignore it. Rafaela at least let slip a smile.

‘Mother said I was to invite you over for supper tomorrow evening,’ added Stephania.

Lucien nodded. He’d done his best to avoid Duke and Duchess Prospero, who he’d dubbed Lady Voluptus Insanus. Rafaela had given up on even the pretence of upbraiding him for the dreadful nickname, frequently laughing along with his wicked observations. Barely a day passed when he wasn’t invited for coffee during the afternoon or a late supper. At first these meetings had been with Duchess Prospero, who had grilled him on many subjects unrelated to anything meaningful – in Lucien’s opinion. After a month, or possibly two – he’d lost track – the duchess had introduced her daughter. Lucien had tried every feint and ruse to escape these appointments, but the duchess was undeterred and implacable.

Finally the duchess suggested Stephania should visit Lucien on the pretext of seeing the drakes. The duchess had even managed to bend D’arzenta to her will, prevailing on him to cancel Lucien’s lesson planned for that afternoon. Lucien had retaliated by inviting Dino along.

‘I would have preferred it if we could be alone together,’ Stephania whispered. ‘I don’t feel like I know you at all. You’re so… strange.’

When it was clear Lucien had no answer for her she rose, crossing to the windows to look at Landfall. He felt a pang of sympathy – she looked lonely silhouetted against the daylight.

‘You know I’m only here in exchange for Achilles, don’t you?’ whispered Dino, his grey eyes serious beneath the sweep of his overgrown fringe.

‘Just promise to stay until she’s gone,’ hissed Lucien. Stephania had already been in the apartment for thirty minutes and possible topics of conversation were dwindling. Lucien was desperate for any gambit that might lead to an exchange in which Stephania didn’t insist on speaking of her parents. He now knew her lineage extensively, and not by choice.

A heavy knock sounded at Lucien’s door and he swore under his breath.

‘Who’s that?’ asked Dino.

Stephania turned as Lucien got to his feet. She forced a small smile onto her lips and he returned it.

‘Sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone else,’ he said and realised he meant it.

‘I hope it’s not the Domo,’ she said.

Lucien grinned. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’

Rafaela opened the door and bobbed a curtsey. She had worn her hair down today, rich coils of untamed chocolate-brown falling around her face. Lucien would have given anything in that moment to be alone with her.

Virmyre entered, wearing the usual impassive expression on his fine features. He thanked Rafaela, then nodded curtly to each of the boys. A distinctly puzzled look possessed him for a moment as he caught sight of the Lady Stephania Prospero, before he remarked, ‘Ah, yes, I’d heard something was afoot.’

Lucien was unsure if this was meant for him, or simply Virmyre thinking aloud. The
professore
carried a small card box, neatly tied with string, which he set down on the couch.

‘If we might be excused, Professore?’ said Rafaela. He nodded again and the maids left the room. Lucien’s gaze lingered on Rafaela as she left.

‘Master Lucien, Master Dino, my lady.’ Virmyre bowed to the assembled nobility. ‘I’m afraid we have a problem of the utmost seriousness.’

‘Excellent,’ said Lucien, then checked to see if Stephania had heard him. If she had it didn’t matter; she was far more intent on what the stony-faced scholar had to say.

‘As you are no doubt aware, it is summer, and that of course means the many spiders that inhabit Landfall have set themselves but one goal: entering Demesne to feed on the great numbers of flies that live here. Even now they have begun a mass assault to take these very walls.’

Lucien sighed. ‘Spiders? Really?’ He slumped on the couch.

‘Indeed,’ said Virmyre with characteristic intensity. ‘We are positively invaded by the brutes:
Tegenaria duellica
,
Cheiracanthium
and of course the
Tegenaria domestica
.’

‘I asked my maid take one from my bath this morning,’ said Stephania. ‘The poor girl all but fled the room.’

‘It is a problem for those who suffer from arachnophobia, is it not?’ continued Virmyre, his hands clasped behind his back, a common pose when he lectured.

‘Lots of people have that in Demesne,’ said Dino. ‘It’s as if the whole castle has nightmares about the little fuckers.’ He looked around a moment to see if he would be reprimanded. Virmyre said nothing, only raised an eyebrow. Lucien laughed. Hearing Dino swear was one of life’s pleasures, especially on the rare occasions he got the context correct. Stephania covered her own smile behind a hand, catching Lucien’s eye. She giggled and looked away.

‘All is not lost,’ continued Virmyre. ‘Our very good friends the cataphract drakes love to dine on our great enemy.’

‘Perhaps I should get one for my apartment,’ said Stephania, looking at Lucien. ‘Perhaps you could visit me and give me advice.’

‘Of course,’ said Lucien, and found himself rewarded with a smile.

‘But not Achilles, he’s mine!’ said Dino urgently, ‘Lucien said I could have him if I—’

‘Be quiet, Dino,’ said Lucien, glaring. The younger Orfano fell silent.

The drakes roused themselves from their various hiding places in Lucien’s apartment, scuttling across the blue rug that dominated the centre of the sitting room. Tan and drab-olive bodies grew taut waiting for the box to be opened, black eyes watchful and alert.

‘What’s in the box then?’ Lucien said, keen to change the subject.

‘Spiders of course,’ said Virmyre with a hint of peevishness.

‘Urgh! Disgusting,’ exclaimed Dino, and hurriedly set about untying it. The spiders emerged the moment the lid was removed. Lucien suppressed a shudder. Virmyre had been busy: there was a feast of scuttling legs and fat round torsos. Dino stood regarding the scene, open-mouthed in wonder, grey eyes unusually bright.

Achilles, Agamemnon and Antigone spent the next twenty minutes scampering around after their eight-legged prey. It was a massacre.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen them so animated,’ said Lucien. He’d shucked off his boots and was sitting, knees drawn up to his chest, on the couch.

‘Wooagh! Achilles just got
two
in one bite!’ Dino on the other hand had no problem about staying close to the action, and was following the drakes around on his hands and knees, providing an enthusiastic commentary.

‘Chomp! Chomp!’

Stephania giggled from behind her fan, amused at the younger boy’s antics. Her eyes always returned to Lucien, and he felt himself begin to blush under her repeated gaze.

‘So, is there a point to this?’ said Lucien after a few minutes.

‘Simply to prove that some creatures, spiders in particular, have a strong effect on people,’ replied Virmyre, who had seated himself in the armchair and laced his fingers in front of his chin. ‘However, Lady Stephania remains resolutely calm.’

‘They’re not very big, are they?’ She flashed another smile.

‘And yourself, Lucien?’ asked the
professore.
Dino whooped in delight behind the couch. Another arachnid fatality.

‘I’m wondering if I’m going to wake up tonight and find a vengeful spider hanging over my bed as punishment for all this.’ He gestured at the drakes, who were still hunting. ‘Maybe I’ll call it Damocles.’

They sat in Lucien’s sitting room until the spiders had made good their escape or succumbed to the predations of the drakes. Dino then cradled the drowsing Achilles and marched from the room with his chin held high, not saying a word, prize finally claimed.

‘And I think I will take this opportunity to take my leave,’ said Virmyre. ‘I can trust you not to trespass on Lady Stephania’s dignity, Lucien.’

The Orfano blushed so hard it felt as if he’d been set on fire. The room felt curiously empty without Virmyre. Lucien struggled for words.

‘I sometimes hear people talking about how annoying their brothers are, and find myself sympathising. Dino, I mean.’ He gestured toward the door, indicating the departed Orfano.

‘Don’t be too hard on him,’ said Stephania. ‘He’s very fond of you.’

‘Me?’

‘Well, he’s hardly going to warm to Golia, is he? And Anea is somewhat… distant.’

‘He copies everything I do. The clothes I wear, the way I fight, owning a drake. It’s maddening.’

‘It must be such hard work being a good influence.’

‘Very funny,’ he replied, surprised to discover he liked her teasing.

‘What a terrible burden, Master Lucien,’ she said in a passable imitation of Virmyre. He burst into laughter at that and she joined him. They were at either end of the couch, the space between them taut. Lucien plucked at the string of the now-empty box.

‘I’m sorry Giancarlo spoiled your Rite of Adoption,’ said Stephania finally.

‘Thank you. I should never have gone through with it. I was told not to, in fact.’ His mind conjured up Rafaela in the corridor, kissing him on the forehead. Stephania reached across and laid one hand on his own, and his thoughts were dragged from that longing memory to the unfolding present.

‘I know what it’s like to be alone,’ she said, ‘and weighed down with expectations.’

Lucien blinked.

‘I may not be Orfano, but I can imagine. I have no siblings. Like you.’

He shrugged awkwardly, tried for a smile, feeling a sting of unhappiness.

‘Fucking Giancarlo,’ he grunted. Stephania smiled.

‘What will you do? About Giancarlo, I mean? Everyone’s talking about it.’

‘There’s not much I can do. Duke Fontein backs his every move. Giancarlo obviously wants Golia in a position of power, maybe even to be crowned king.’

Her hand still rested lightly on his, her skin soft and warm. Somehow she’d edged closer without him noticing. She smelled good. He relaxed into the softness of the couch, anxiety draining out of him.

‘You don’t have to remain a Fontein, you know,’ she said. ‘There are other houses, houses with more commercial influence.’ A slow smile creased her lips, her insinuation clear. He found himself smiling in response.

‘I spent sixteen years trying to join a house that didn’t really want me. I must be mad. I’ve still no clue why they accepted.’

‘The Domo insisted,’ said Stephania, a look of victory in her eyes. ‘We have spies in House Fontein. You’ve no idea how useful a friend I could be.’

‘I think I’m starting to understand.’

She had edged closer and now sat beside him, her thigh resting against his. He found himself gazing at her collarbones, delicate beneath the olive skin. The curve of her breasts beneath the gown was intensely pleasing.

‘What do you want to do?’ she almost whispered.

Beyond the latticed windows the sun had begun to set, staining the sky vermilion. Lucien responded to the growing darkness by getting up and lighting the candles on the mantelpiece. He blew out the match and regarded the burned and twisted wood. He turned to find her gazing at him, an inviting smile playing about her lips. She had arrived as a guest received on sufferance but had since revealed herself in a new light.

‘How could I know what I want?’ He shrugged and smiled rueful. ‘I’m only sixteen.’

Stephania stood and crossed the room. She stroked the side of his face with a tender hand. A shiver of pleasure passed over him. It was rare that anyone touched him.

‘I’ve watched you struggle for a long time, watched your defeats and humiliations. And you’ve always picked yourself up and continued. Sometimes it’s taken you a while, but you’ve never given in.’

‘I…’ He had no words for her.

‘Just remember, there are other houses than Fontein, houses much keener to invite Orfani into their ranks.’

And then her lips were brushing his, like butterfly wings, so quickly the kiss had ended before he registered it.

‘I should get back. Don’t worry about escorting me; I’m quite capable of finding my way. Not that you’d know it the way my father acts.’

Lucien was still reeling from the kiss, and her touch.

‘It was good to finally meet you – properly, I mean,’ he said, feeling foolish.

She crossed to the door, blew him a kiss, bobbed a mock curtsey and disappeared, leaving him alone in the sitting room.

He spent long minutes thinking on what she had said, watching the sunset. Her invitation had been compelling, her sympathy welcome, her compliments apparently genuine. He extinguished the candles, retiring to his bedroom as possibilities swirled through his mind. He followed skeins of causality, looked for consequences, wondered at futures. Tiredness enfolded him as he undressed. He threw his clothes over the chair. He’d not the energy to hang them in his closet or even draw the curtains.