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“Listen here cum-sluts. The Emperor put me, Prince Ianthe Naberius, in charge of wedding preparations. Since none of you have the slightest idea how to dress appropriately for a royal wedding, that too is a burden that falls on my shoulders.”
Tower prince Kiriona Gaia stood beside the Saint of Awe as she made her declarations to the collected group of former house adepts and their cavaliers. She had also been assigned the task of wedding preparations. But whatever. To be truthful, Kiriona wanted no part in the upcoming events.
“Can we ask who is getting married?” asked Abigail Pent, arguably the only person in the room who looked excited to be here. Her cavalier husband had to keep her from stopping in the hallway every two seconds to point out the owner of some bone on the wall or speaking excitedly about the lyctors who once lived here.
“No.” said Ianthe
“Why not?” asked Paul from the back of the room. Paul hadn’t said much since arriving, just looked around and made the occasional facial expression Kiriona couldn’t exactly decipher. It didn’t help that Kiriona avoided looking at them too much. She didn’t like their eyes.
“Why does it matter? You’re here and you’re going a wedding.” Kiriona replied, irritated.
Their collection had just arrived on the newly resurrected Mithraeum, having been collected from across the universe for the great honour of being in attendance for the extremely important wedding that would take place that evening. Some of them had even come willingly.
They now all burst into whispers: gossip of who was to be married, why they were the ones being invited to attend, something else Kiriona didn’t catch and didn’t care to.
“Quiet!” Ianthe spoke again, attempting to resume control over the room. “You are to return directly to your assigned rooms. You are not to talk to each other on the way. We will be visiting each of you to select your wedding guest attire. You are to wear these outfits to the ceremony tonight. You are not to be late. Is that understood?”
No one responded to that. Ianthe’s face twitched a little. The general indifference of the crowd irked her greatly.
“Fine. You are all dismissed.”
No one moved at first, just looked around at each other and made brief eye contact. When Paul stood up, everyone followed and left quietly, presumably heading back to their rooms as instructed. Ianthe had mentioned wanting guard to direct their guests and prevent them from straying into areas they should not go, but John was insistent that the Mithraeum and this wedding was a strictly closed affair. No extraneous cohort presence, no private guards. Family only business with the exception of the dead would-be lyctors.
“Well that went well. You really laid down the law there ‘yanthe.” Kiriona said once they were alone.
“No one asked you Gonad.” Ianthe shot back, gathering her things.
“What does what anyone wear matter anyway?”
“You might not understand because you don’t have occasions on the Ninth, but this is a big fucking deal.”
“It’s clothes.”
“It is the clothes that the heirs to the nine houses – former heirs – lyctoral candidates (unsuccessful), wear to the imperial wedding. The imperial wedding hosted on the holiest of ships the Mithraeum, seat of the emperor. The clothes that are worn indicate status. They indicate wealth. The indicate the culture of their house and it’s role within the empire. An event like this, a wedding, is all about looks. And if the empire needs to look strong, which after the past two years it desperately does, then the clothes that are worn to this event matter immensely.”
Kiriona wasn’t quite sure she agreed with all of that. But it did sound like a marginally more interesting evening than sitting alone in her room and – not sulking, she didn't do that and this event didn't call for that - reflecting who was to be married tomorrow and why she should not care one bit. So she quietly followed Ianthe down the hall towards her own rooms.
***
Every time Kiriona entered Ianthe's room, with their sweet rotting smell and gaudy paintings, she felt the urge to turn around and walk out as fast as possible. She wasn't sure exactly why. Ianthe, despite being terrible and the worst, was not actually that bad company. The rooms are what she would have once thought of as pretty nice. The fact that Harrow had spent so much time here, well that wasn't relevant to anything.
Similarily, Kiriona wasn't confident that the other people in the room, a radiant Coronabeth Trientarius and a deflated looking Judith Deuteros, helped or hindered the instinct to bolt. She was always thrilled to be in the presence of Coronabeth, who wouldn't be? But with the rest of their current company...
“Ianthe! And Nav!”
“Kiriona Gaia” she corrected, not as strongly as she would have liked. It didn’t matter, Ianthe ignored her and placed her hands on the other woman’s arms.
“Corona, my darling, it’s been ages since we had dress up.”
“Our last birthday, if I recall, back on Ida. For the party.”
“Oh before that, we’ve been apart for so long. It’s killing me.”
Kiriona wished someone would kill her. She rolled her eyes but stopped short at the sight of another person in the room. Judith Deuturos, sitting perfectly upright like a proper solider, and also desperately trying to look away from the twins. She probably had to sit through this regularly since they had been reunited. But so had Kiriona, so the sympathy fell short.
“Corona it’s been horrible. The preparations have been non-stop and he’s left them all to me.”
“And me.” Kiriona added.
“Oh Ianthe, you’re working so hard.” Coronabeth said, completely ignoring Kiriona.
“With such limited material to work with too, all these clothes are so outdated. It’s not even vintage, it’s just hideous. They look like something one of Babs’ exes would wear.”
Coronabeth giggled. “Do you remember that one who wore the -”
“-yes! What a disaster.”
“I have no idea what Babs saw in him.”
“What did anyone see in Babs? At least his tailoring skills have come in handy.”
“I don’t recall you having an actual interest in sewing.”
“It’s lyctorhood darling. I ate him and adsorbed his skill”
Coronabeth gasped, “That’s ghastly Ianthe.”
“Thank you dear. Now take off those raggedy things and put on this.”
Without any shame or warning, Coronabeth began to unbutton her shirt in the centre of the room. Kiriona felt her cheeks heat up as she spun around to face the wall. She mentally berated herself for wasting a grand opportunity to see Coronabeth Tridentarius’ tits, but the presence of Ianthe and Judith would have killed the mood.
“Ohh Ianthe,” Coronabeth said a little breathlessly “you know I’m sensitive there”
“Hush darling, let me take care of you.”
“Ah!”
“See, I knew it would fit.”
What the fuck were they doing behind her. Kiriona started thinking about it. And started turning redder. And decided it was better not to know.
“Alright losers you can turn around now.” Ianthe called out. The losers turned around.
Standing in the centre of the room was an absolutely radiant Coronabeth in a massive ballgown fitting of a princess. The bodice appeared to be a golden plate of metal wrapped tightly around her chest, leaving a wide V-shaped gap in the centre. Somehow, the structure still managed to hoist Coronabeth’s bust to a physics defying height. A series of delicate gold chains adorned with tiny crystals crossed over her chest like a magnificent chandelier. Two swaths of a thin, iridescent purple-gold silky fabric draped off her shoulders and over her upper arm.
Below her bust, the same colour shifting shimmery fabric clung to her round stomach and wide hips and over a series of underskirts that created a large bell shaped silhouette that reached the floor. It swished audibly when she moved around the room, drawing all eyes to her. Coronabeth must have been wearing heels because she appeared taller than Ianthe, and would be a towering golden statue over everyone else.
Coronbeth’s golden hair was pulled back and gathered at the back of her head with a big, sparkly hair clip covered in gemstones. Several large crystals dangled from her ears that caught the light when she moved. Her wrists were similarly adorned with a stack of chains and gold bands that clinked with each motion.
“How do I look Jody?” Coronabeth asked, giving them a spin that sent flecks of light across the room.
“You look lovely princess.” Judith responded, very stiffly.
“Why are you here anyway?” Ianthe sneered, “I ordered you to go to your assigned room. Can’t you follow simple orders.”
Something in Judith’s face twitched, almost imperceptibly.
“The princess asked me to come sir.” Judith responded, standing at attention, “she said you had asked.”
“Corona, did you really need to bring your pet?”
“Judith is a person Ianthe, can you blame me for wanting a little bit of company?”
“When I’m here, yes.”
“Well you haven’t been.” Corona said icily. Kiriona felt this was the continuation of an argument that she wanted no part in, and likely neither did Deuteros.
“We might as well dress her while she’s here.” She said.
“Alright fine. You’re up, Jody.” Ianthe said, thrusting a garment bag at the other woman. Judith elected to change in the bathroom, much to Coronabeth protests.
Judith was wearing a variation of the cohort formal military attire. Crisp, neatly pressed white jacket buttoned to the top of her clavicle. Around her neck, tied with extreme precision, was a blood-red kerchief with a black trim. This matched the woven belt in a geometric red and black pattern that was looped through wide legged trousers of a white and off-white plaid that gave the garment an extremely subtle texture. Judith wore heavy white military boots that were polished to a shine and laced with a red cord perfectly and according to regulation. In her hand she held a white hat with a wide brim and four deep dimples in the crown. The hat was wrapped with another strip of woven fabric that matched her belt. Her dark hair was slicked back and tied neatly in a bun at the base of her head.
“You look so handsome Jody.” Coronabeth said, jumping up and clasping the other woman’s hands in her own.
“Thank you princess.” Judith responded, distinctly not looking at Coronabeth.
Ianthe narrowed her eyes slightly at them. “Time for us to go. Do not make a mess of your clothes.” She said pointedly at Judith.
“Oh Ianthe, can’t I go with you?”
“No, I don’t think it’s a good idea to let you spend more time with each other than strictly necessary. I’m allowing this” she motioned to Judith “out of the kindness of my heart and my love for you. Remember that.”
“Thank you Ianthe” “Thank you sirs.” they said at the same time.
“I wouldn’t. Kiriona, grab that bag over there. We have a few stops to make.”
***
Kiriona was pretty certain that neither she nor Ianthe the First had been in Augustine’s rooms since they had gone to ask for help killing the Saint of Duty. Well, technically that had been Harrow. Kiriona was not thinking of Harrow right now so she wiped that memory away entirely.
Magnus Quinn had let them into the room with a weary “Come in. Have a seat” as if he was hosting them in his own quarters rather than these borrowed ones.
“Dear, the tower princes are here.” He announced.
His wife did not pay any attention to her husband, or the new arrivals. Abigail Pent was busy flipping though Augustine the First’s notebook, an activity that would have cause Augustine the First to kill her without a second thought. But he wasn’t here to stop her. There was a wild look in Abigail's eye that also prevented Kiriona from doing so.
“Look at this!” She exclaimed, “A primary source from an actual lyctor! This is amazing.”
“If you knew him you wouldn’t think so.” Ianthe said, “Have another artifact” she said, motioning to Kiriona to place the garment bag they had brought with them onto the bed. Even though they had decided to dress everyone from clothes that once belonged to their lyctors, it was unlikely Augustine Alfred had in his possession a gown that would be fitting for the former lady of the fifth house. So Ianthe had put one together from the wild assortment of clothes she had back in her own room.
“Ooh!” Abigail said, opening the bag and pulling out a mass of brown fabric, "Did this also once belong to a lyctor? Oh gosh I shouldn't be touching this with my bare hands."
"You might as well, you're going to be wearing it."
Abigail's mouth dropped open in a stunned silence. Ianthe didn't wait for her.
“Stay here and get dressed while I go look for an appropriate suit.”
Kiriona leaned against the wall just inside the bedroom, deciding that no one needed her help at the moment.
“I’m ready.” Abigail said after a few minutes.
The bodice of the dress Abigail wore was an intricate and extremely very expensive cream lace mesh, likely woven by ninth house nuns. This was overlayed with sashes of a brown silk taffeta which formed an off centred V-shape and trimmed with delicate gold embroidery. Small butterflies of a translucent fabric and goldwork covered the bodice and flowed onto the skirt, where they grew larger in size toward the hem of the dress. The sleeves were made of the same lace as the bodice and puffed out slightly before a ruffle cuff high on the arm. The rest of her arms were covered in long brown gloves that reached up above her elbow. Abigail’s hair was pinned up quite simply, and held in place with a matching butterfly pin made of a pearlescent shell.
Magnus stepped up to his wife, taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth.
“You look wonderful.”
“Thank you dear. Can you believe this! On the Mirthraeum and we get to attend a formal event!”
That might have been the most fifth house thing that Kiriona had ever heard.
Ianthe proceeded to interrupt the moment, thrusting a suit at Quinn.
“Here, this should work for you.”
Magnus left the room to get changed.
“This reminds me of my own wedding you know.” Abigail said.
“I don’t want to hear about your marriage to your cavalier.” Ianthe replied. Kiriona didn’t say anything, but she agreed. Thinking about a wedding between a necromancer and her cavalier made her stomach do weird things that did not merit investigation.
The suit was made of a tweed wool, the rich flecks of a yellow-gold highlighting the depth of the brown fabric. On the lapel was a brooch of a butterfly that matched those on his wife’s dress. The defined shoulders of the jacket gave him the broad appearance of a strong cavalier, and were characteristic of the fifth house. The sleeve cuffs were fastened with four gold shank buttons that matched those on the front of the jacket. His tie was a deep reddish-brown silk, the colour of rust or dried blood. His trousers were of the same fabric as his jacket and fit quite nicely. He wore leather brown leather shoes that Augustine appears to have shine quite recently before his demise.
“Hm. That will do.” said Ianthe, “Come Kiriona, we have other appointments to keep.”
***
Kiriona had never been in the Saint of Joy’s rooms. Their eldest sister had never allowed Harrowhark in, and Kiriona had never had any desire to go there otherwise. Still, she knew enough about Mercymorn the first to not be comfortable sitting on the bed or any of the couches.
So she leaned against the wall, and watched the two pale necromancers argue while riffling through the closet.
“These are the sacred artifacts of the Saint of Joy. You should treat them with more reverence” SIlas was arguing.
“There are the clothes of a dead woman.”
“A deceased Lyctor. One of the emperor's sacred fingers and gestures who served their life for the empire.”
“A bit of a bitch I’d say.” said the alive lyctor, who was a but more like a rude gesture than anything.
“How ... how dare you speak of the benevolent Saint of Joy in such terms.”
“How about this?” Ianthe said, pulling out a dress so sheer and short that it even made Kiriona raise her eyebrows.
“Absolutely not. The tome states that modesty is a virtue and the King Undying’s followers must follow the virtues. Wearing something of that length in the presence of the emperor dying himself is an affront.”
Ianthe choked back a laugh. “The Saint of Joy has definitely worn this in the presence of the emperor. She likely wore it for the emperor.”
“I - I’m sure she had a very good reason to wear such a garment-”
“Yes, to get laid.”
Silas went quiet for a moment. Kiriona almost felt bad for him. Not only was his entire worldview being shattered quite ungraciously, but Ianthe was also trying to dress him up for an event she was extremely confident he wanted about as much to do with as she did.
In the end Ianthe pulled out something significantly more conservative for him to wear.
Silas wore a long white tunic of a very simple cut that reached down to his ankles. It had a high collar, long sleeves and small white buttons that ran down the entire length of the front. Around his waist was a thick sash of white silk woven with silver metallic threads along the warp. This was tied to leave two long and intricately knotted fringes which hung down on the right side. On top of this he wore a cape of a similar white fabric with a shimmery silver lining. His long hair was loose and tied back by an equally white ribbon. The entire outfit had the effect of making him look like a ghost child dressed in his bedsheets.
“God you look pathetic.”
His brown eyes narrowed at her. “You gave me these clothes.”
“Yes well, we can only work with what we have. Can’t you at least do something about your hair?”
There was a moment of silence.
“My cavalier used to braid it for me.” He said quietly.
“So? Can’t you do it yourself?”
“No.”
Ianthe impatiently tapped her fingers. “Gaia, do you know how to braid hair.”
Kiriona, who never had hair past her ears, and who never had any responsibility for anyone with hair that could even be braided said “Fuck no, even if I knew how.”
Ianthe rolled her eyes.
“Well, comb it at least. Can you figure that out?”
“I’m not stupid.”
“Good, then we’ll take our leave.” Ianthe said leading Kiriona out of the room and leaving behind a lost looking Silas.
***
At the entrance to the rooms that once belonged to Ulysses the First, Ianthe didn’t wait for the door to be answered. She just knocked twice and entered. This was the most courtesy she was willing to extend to the two teenagers inside.
Inside, the rooms of Ulysses the first were dark. The walls were painted a deep navy blue and littered with ancient posters of ancient people doing ancient acts.
Two figures were huddled over something they not so subtly shoved into a cabinet, slamming the door shut and spinning to stand in front of it in an obvious attempt to block it from view.
“Tower princes!” Isaac exclaimed, hurriedly bowing. Jeannemary moved to follow behind him
“What are you two up to?” Kiriona said, strolling into the room with raised eyebrows.
“Nothing.” Jeannemary responded, a little too quickly. Kiriona very much doubted that was true, but also decided she didn’t care. Apparently neither did Ianthe.
“Never mind that. We have much better things to do than deal with your shenanigans.”
Ianthe moved with purpose into the bedroom and everyone followed. Kiriona, Isaac and Jeannemary sat on the bed which Ianthe threw open the doors of a large wardrobe.
"Now, Ulysses and his cavalier should have something appropriate."
Kiriona felt a nudge on her right arm. She looked down to see a wide eyed Jeannemary.
"Hey," She whispered, "Are you dead?"
"That's a pretty rude question to ask actually." Kiriona whispered back harshly, followed by "But yeah."
"Cool. Us too."
Kiriona was suddenly stuck by a memory of the last time she saw the teens. Going into the basement laboratory at Canaan house. Running with Jeannemary as Isaac died. Waking up to Jeannemary's bone filled body. Cytherea told her there was nothing that could be done to save them, but Cytherea was the one who killed them so brutally. They were just kids. They were all just kids.
She found it suddenly hard to breathe. Jeannemary was whispering something else. Maybe to Isaac, probably to her. She couldn't hear it.
A sudden movement broke Kiriona out of her thoughts. She had thrown a shirt on a metal coat hanger over to them.
“Put this on.” She said to Isaac.
“Why do we have to do what you say?” Isaac said, while taking the garment.
“Because I’m a lyctor and I said so.”
“That’s not a good reason.”
Kiriona was inclined to agree. But she also just wanted this whole thing to be over as quickly as painlessnessly as possible.
“Just put the outfit on.” She said. Jeannemary gave her a look of disappointed betrayal. Whatever, it’s not like she promised anything to these kids. What's another appointment.
Isaac stepped out of the bathroom and broke Kiriona out of her thoughts. Isaac’s hideous orange bleached hair had been smoothed down to the top of his head. He had not removed any of the numerous pieces of metal that stuck out of his ear, nor the one in his nose.A small teenage act of defiance.
Isaac wore a heavily starched and stiff, sheer white shirt with an equally stiff opaque collar and cuffs. A button placket came halfway down his chest, which was surrounded by subtle but intricate embroidery of bones and swords and flowers in the same thread the shirt fabric was made from. Underneath, the wore a plain white T-shirt. His trousers were simple. Straight legged and navy blue, with a white stripe just above the bottom cuff. He wore a matching navy dress shoes with a slightly elongated toe.
“Acceptable.” Ianthe announced, "now for you." She handed Jeannemary another bag.
Jeannemary was given a slim fitting knee length dress made of a deep blue silk. The dress had a high standing collar that parted into a small V in the middle. The closure of the dress ran across the shoulders and down one her left side to a slit high on her legs. This was trimmed with a contrasting white that ran along the full length of this opening and around the collar. The buttons were knots of the same blue fabric that formed a toggle closure, two over her heart with a few more down her side. Beneath the dresswere slim fitting pants in a matching navy blue colour. She wore matching slippers with embroidery over the foot matching her necromancers shirt. Jeannemary's hair was loosely tied into two puffy buns at the top of her head. High on her arm, she wore a silver cuff in a spiral shape.
"Well since i can't do anything about the fact you are tragically stuck as per-pubescents, this is the best we can do." Ianthe said, which was maybe acceptance, if not approval.
Jeannemary was behind Kiriona, tugging lightly on her elbow.
“I used to look up to you, you know.” she whispered. Kiriona looked sharply away and tried extremely hard to feel nothing.
“That was your mistake.”
With that Kiriona closed the door.
***
Dulcinea should have been easy to dress. When she died, Cytherea had left no shortage of flowy, gauzy and lacy dresses in her large wardrobe. Any one of them might have suited the occasion, if only they could get Septimus to agree.
“I don’t think that colour suits me.” Dulcinea – Dulcie as she asked to be called- said sitting on the bed as Kiriona brought her a pale blue gown that was nearly translucent and lined with pearls.
“This is Cytherea’s dress. You are the exact same colour as Cytherea.” Ianthe shot back, while still riffling through the layers of tulle.
“A bit paler perhaps. Hence the blue doesn’t work.”
It was true that Dulcie did look a lot like Cytherea, at least in a way that reminded Kiriona of sitting in a garden, holding a ball of yarn a lifetime ago. But Dulcinea had shorter hair that Cytherea, a little more mischief in her smile and thankfully different eyes.
Ianthe turned to Dulcie, “I’m being very kind in letting you have choices you know. I don’t have to be quite so kind and just make you wear what I tell you.”
“But you’re not. Why is that?”
“Don’t test me.”
“Am I getting in your head again?”
Ianthe froze briefly, and Kiriona decided to step in before Ianthe was well and truly mad. She had seen Ianthe angry before, and it never ended well for the other person.
“Listen. Pick a dress, put it on and it’ll be easier for everyone. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
“Have you always been this mean?” Septimus asked, tilting her head a little in a way that mimicked Cytherea in the garden back at Canaan house. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t know shit about me so shut up.”
Dulcinea stared at Kiriona for a few seconds that felt like eternities. Like she was trying to get a read on the other woman. Something Kiriona was not willing to give up. So she walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out a green dress, and thrust it at her before leaving the room.
Why was she getting so worked up about this? What did she care that everyone looked at her differently? She was different. Gideon Nav died and Kiriona Gaia was created and that’s who she was now. She didn’t care about any of them or their outfits or this stupid wedding.
When she re-entered the room, Dulcinea was wearing the dress she gave her.
The dress was a pale green, a little but darker than what Cytherea usually wore. The bodice had a high waistline that began just under the bust and a low square neckline that ended just above it. It was decorated by fine floral embroidery in a slightly deeper green. The skirts were layers of silk chiffon, lightweight and cut unevenly so they flowed like the sea down her body. Her slippers were closed toed, with a wooden heel and more floral embroidery. The sleeves were a slight puff over the shoulder, but covered by a large, lacy crochet shawl made in chunky wool of whites and greys and greens.
“It gets cold.” She said, standing in front of a mirror and inspecting her dress, “plus i made it myself.”
“I can tell.” Ianthe responded
“Thanks!”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I didn’t take it as one.” Dulcie said beaming, "This will do, thank you."
Ianthe closed her mouth into a tight line, either holding back a comment or restraining herself from killing the other woman. Instead, she turned around and left the room without another word. Kiriona moved to follow her but was stopped.
“Kiriona, before you go can you pass me that book?” Dulcinea asked, and because Kiriona was still a chump she brought the book to her. It was one of Cytherea’s cheesy romance novels. The cover depicted an oil painting of a two people in a very compromising position, one very muscular with their shirt ripped open and another in a dress that was nearly falling off. The book was titled "The Necromancer who Loved Me".
"Thank you." Dulcinea said in a light tone as Gideon held the book out to her. Dulcinea placed her hand over Kiriona’s as she took the book, hesitating for a second.
“Gideon, don’t give up on the last dance. Tell Paul I said hello will you?”
***
The room that formerly belonged to Cassiopeia the First on the Mithraeum were a lot less vibrant than those at Canaan house. Everything appeared in muted tones of mostly grey. Instead of being covered in handwritten notes and diagrams, the walls were blank, with not even paintings hanging.
There were two exceptions. The first being the little ceramics scattered around the room. Cups and teapots and little figurines that would be bright and vibrant if not for being coated in a fine layer of dust. The second was the clothes in the back of the closet. Outfits bursting in colour and shape shoved behind fifty shades of grey button down shirts like they were a secret that would rather be forgotten.
“How does someone who dresses like this create such a bland house?” Ianthe said, pulling out a hot pink and green striped maxi skirt, holding it up in front of Paul and placing it back in the closet.
Paul shrugged, “The grey is easy. It’s consistent. You don’t have to think about matching your outfits. And it made textile production more efficient.”
“Things can be beautiful and efficient.” Ianthe said, returning to the closet.
Paul took this opportunity to stand close to Kiriona, who was leaning against the doorframe.
“How are you handling this?” They whispered.
“Playing dress up with Awe? Having a blast.” She answered, deadpan.
“I meant about the wedding.”
Kiriona paused for a moment. She didn’t mean to, it just caught her offguard. It shouldn’t have, but it did.
“I don’t care.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Paul, we’re not the same people we were on the first house. None of us. She’s not even the same person, she’s a lyctor now. You’re a lyctor now. (“not exactly” they interjected). I’m a Tower Prince. We can never go back to being them.” Kiriona wasn't whispering anymore. In fact, she was speaking quite loudly.
Ianthe had turned around and was looking at Kiriona with an expression that was not worth analysing. Paul was looking at her with another weird expression. The icy stare that wasn't quite as sharp as Palamedes eyes. A little darker, the brown around the edges softening the look.
Kiriona suddenly felt ... really bad. A little nauseous. She excused herself to go stand in the bathroom for a few minutes.
When she returned, Paul was dressed.
Paul wore tapered grey wool trousers with a sharp crease down the middle. Their top was made entirely of a sheer grey fabric with a matte sheen. The length reached over the trousers and stopped just above the knee. The waist was defined by a thick band of grey. The sleeves were tight on the arm and reached the centre of their palm. Two swaths draped from each side, up across the chest to where it was gathered at the top of the shoulder. On the left side, the fabric formed a half cape that flowed to the floor. They wore boots with a short, block heel and a pointed toe.
“This is probably too stylish to represent the Sixth -”
“The Sixth house doesn’t exist anymore. Not like that.” Paul said.
“Don’t say that in front of the Emperor. Your presence shows I’ve brought the Sixth house back, and that might be enough for him to get through the day.”
“But you haven’t brought them back. You only have me.”
“Believe me, if it were my choice you wouldn’t be here at all.”
Ianthe spun to walk out the room. “Don’t be late tonight.” she called behind her.
Kiriona moved to follow but Paul caught her first.
“You didn’t answer my question earlier. Not really.”
“I don’t owe you an answer. Dulcinea says hello.”
“Kiriona!” Ianthe called and Kiriona left.
***
“Teacher, the preparations are complete.”
Draped across the red velvet couch in the sitting room at the centre of the Mithraeum, John wearily opened his eyes.Thankfully, he was at least fully clothed this time. The number of bottles on the floor did not give Kiriona confidence in her father's ability to stand, let alone be coherent for the ceremony.
The tower princes thought he might be happy to return here. It was at his request that the wedding take place at the eternal seat of the emperor. He had even sent them on the long and arduous task of retrieving it from the River, from the clutches of the stoma. A task that nearly cost both their lives.
But they didn't die, so it’s chill.
“C’mon pops, let’s get up.” Kiriona said, pulling John into an upright position.
“Teacher, the ceremony is to begin in an hour. You need to get dressed. You can’t possibly wear that.” Ianthe added
The kindly prince looked down at his mysteriously stained, ripped and faded shirt. "It's not that bad."
Ianthe and Kiriona exchanged a glance.
“With all due respect sir, it really is.”
Ianthe started moving toward the door that presumable lead to his bedroom, ready to dress one more person that night. John raised his hand, cutting her off.
“Ianthe stop. I’ll ... I’ll go find something. Just. Wait here.”
John went through the door, closing it quietly behind him. The room was awkwardly silent for a few moments when he left until Ianthe spoke. She leaned against the arm of the sofa and inspected her golden cufflinks.
“Well Gonad, how do you really feel about this wedding?”
Kiriona narrowed her eyes. “Why do people keep asking me that? And it's Kiriona.”
Ianthe ignored the correction of her name. “Forgive me for thinking you might have a personal stake in this.”
“Not any more than you do.?”
Ianthe laughed. Actually laughed. Bent over laughed. “Oh the projection! You crack me up.”
Kiriona didn’t smile.
She straightened in one swift move, eyes narrowed toward Kiriona.
“No. It would never have been me, as you well know. It was never going to be you either, as I’m sure the tiny rational part of you knows. Deep down where you keep your thinking brain. No. Everyone is asking how you’re feeling because they’re concerned. Not for your wellbeing, but because you're at risk of doing something completely stupid. Or more likely, they want to see you trip and fall.”
"So why did you ask?"
Ianthe raised her eyebrow, but before she could respond the door to the bedroom opened.
John walked out of the room, hair combed, but not very well. He had shaved, but nicked himself in the neck and covered it with a tiny wad of tissue. John was dressed in a plain white t-shirt with a black suit jacket that was almost tailored properly, black jeans and black oxfords. The casual version of a boring black suit.
Kiriona looked between him and Ianthe, who's was trying desperately not to reveal a single emotion on her face.
“It’s a clean shirt” Is all John said.
Nothing to be done about that now. There was a wedding to attend.