Chapter 5

Truth and Consequences of Catfights

 

“Must be nice,” he lilted. “Surely, it must be.” He looked pointedly at her.
            Devlyn rolled her eyes. “What must be, Aren?” she huffed. Damn but he could be infuriating.
            “Bloody hell, you just beat my sister to a pulp, something I’ve, obviously, never been able to do. Indeed, I’m damned envious, Dev. There’s that, and well, the other thing.”
            She gazed at herself in the vanity she sat in front of, but never really saw herself beyond a simple cast reflection. She knew Aren well over the years to know that a seemingly harmless statement always came with a much more devastating punch. Whereas Katerina held herself nearly unequivocal in physical battle, Aren could slice and dice all day with his lacerating tongue and lightning-fast wit. Her blades would have to be sharpened, her mount properly worked out, her lance heavy and straight if she were to have a tournament with him tonight.
            She really didn’t want to do that tonight of all nights. They were currently in Charleston, had been here for the better part of a fortnight. Tonight was the annual Daughters of the Confederacy Beautifying Committee’s cotillion and gala, which meant one of the auspicious occasions when Devlyn and Katerina could bring out some of the dresses packed away in one of their thousands of trousseaus in their plantation house in the back swamps of Louisiana. Theirs would be one of the few costumes there that was not replicated but had complete authenticity—because they had actually worn such garments before, during their rightful era. It felt good to be back in corsets and petticoats, really it did. The coiffures and garment had been so grand. Clothes that hid and enticed the imagination, rather than flash blatantly to the world at large just what your mama gave you and the skills your daddy hoped you’d never developed.
            It had been far from a perfect world; it had been far from clean, full of boys boasting about being men, old men boasting like peacocks, speaking of and encouraging battles and a war that they wouldn’t have to actually fight in.
            She and Katerina had been smart at that time. Before Sherman could invade Georgia and before entire cities had been burned and destroyed, the girls had packed up their belongings and ensured themselves a train ride to Texas, where they bought, or rather Devlyn bought, a large spread, built a beautiful, large house, and Katerina found herself overseeing the bunkhouse occupants on more than one occasion.
            Fortunately for Katerina, they never stayed more than fifteen or twenty years in one place, never long enough for the townsfolk and gentry to realize that they weren’t exactly aging at a natural rate—or at all. They just willed their property to themselves a few generations later, and they had many homes in many states and countries.
            “What, Aren? Why am I so bloody lucky?” she asked, lilting the last two words to mock his brogue. She didn’t want to know, but she would rather do this now than later. Her mood was already somewhat glum. This could simply add to it.
            “I’d kill to have a lover come traipsing all over this ridiculous earth after me. Most women would, don’t doubt it. Yes, yes, I know you, in most respects, are quite unlike most women, in so many ways. But think about it, luv. He’s here, and he’s yours for the taking.”
            She gave a highly unladylike snort. “Yeah, well, he could have been Katerina’s for the taking the other night,” she said, her words unchecked, slipping out before she’d thought them, much less thought about stopping them.
            “Dare I say, that is a most jealous statement, Devlyn? Quite jealous, in fact. And from the crimson blush creeping up your cheeks, I’d say quite indicative of your true feelings.”
            She turned and faced him and said with all the debonair she possessed, “Hardly, Aren. I just find it rather amusing that he professes this great love for me, we’re destined and all of that hoopla, and yet as soon as he comes looking for me, he immediately hits on Katia. That says a lot for fated love.”
            “He danced with her. That’s all. Harmless.”
            “And you think that’s as far as he would have gone? Really, Aren, that’s what you believe? Look, can we just drop this entire conversation? It’s a dead horse that we continue to whip. I don’t want him. I never have; I never will. Beginning. End. We’ve been over and over this. It’s boring, Aren! And here I always thought of you as anything but boring.”
            He looked down at her and smiled his wide, cheeky smile that had been known to melt hearts for centuries. His stature and tone were ever-so-slightly condescending when he replied, “You can try all you want to, Devlyn, but that reverse psychology esoteric babble doesn’t work on me. I may be thick, but I’m certainly not thick-headed.”
            She audibly sighed in exasperation. “Oh, fine. Very well. What? What do you want me to say, Aren?’ she asked, voiced raised. She had stood up to face him.
            “Do you really want to fight with me as well, you little spitfire? Try me. All I have is my strength, no other power. But I’m not a muse, not a demigod, minor deity that you reign supreme over. I barely exist a’tall. There would be very few consequences for me if I beat your a*s right here and now!”
            She grinned up at him wickedly. “But could you really do that to her, Aren? Would you sacrifice your dear sister for a chance to throw a punch at me?” she purred, taunting him because she knew she had him.
            “No, m’dear. But I would chance katoteros to put you over my knee. When I said I’d beat your a*s, I meant it quite literally. And the punishment for that, I assure you, is much less severe. I’m sure Bane would quite back me up on it. I might even get commended for it.” He gave a small chuckle that didn’t quite match the grim expression on his face. “Imagine that.”
            “You pompous, arrogant b*****d!” she hurled.
            He smiled quite charmingly and purred a simple, “Yes.”
            Devlyn smiled despite her really wanting to push him into the fireplace. Another thought for another time, she supposed. "Not fair. You are arrogant, cocky, incorrigible, and utterly, rakishly charming. So not fair. I want to be mad at you, d****t! Why won't you let me be mad at you?” she asked, starring up at him.
            He looked at her and saw the look that could take his breath away because it was such a power to behold. It was youth and light, innocent and so many things good and pure swept up into one gift box through a pair of mysteriously turquoise eyes. It was a look a four year old little girl with pigtails and ringlets could give her daddy and melt his heart. It was also a look a woman could give a man, and he would forgive her of any and all sins she had ever committed against him, he could deny her nothing, and he would be putty in her hands forever more. “Whatever you do, Devlyn,” he said with both hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes, “don’t look at Bane like that.”
            “Why? Like what?”
            “Gods Almighty. Like that! The way you’re looking at me now. Stop it! Wipe that look from your face!” To his ridiculous foolishness, Devlyn merely grinned impishly. Well, that was better, at least somewhat. “If you give him that look, m’dear, I’m afraid you’ll really never be rid of him, for he will fall miserably at your feet.”
            She laughed. “And yet here you are, still standing here.”
            He grinned. “Sheer willpower. I’ve grown immune to your charms over the years, Dev.”
            She laughed outright at that. “Oh, dear! I have charms now? That’s great, really great! Bloody brilliant, Aren. You’ve successfully charmed me out of my ire, which is what I’m beginning to suspect was your goal in this all along.”
            Oh, but she was as obtuse as a triangle sometimes! But she never held a grudge, he’d give her that. Well, if he exempted the whole Bane/Gods thing. That really was a major grudge. Then again, with a grudge that big, any others would pale in comparison and would be a waste of energy.
            “Get dressed, Devlyn. Do you know which gown you’ll be wearing tonight?”
            “Not really. Gil and Rosey left the good trousseaux in Genoa, I think.”
Aren rolled his eyes. “The footmen, whose names I’ll remind you once again, are Dimitri and Ranulf, did not purposely leave any of your extensive wardrobe in Europe on purpose. They took only what you told them to pack, nothing more, nothing less. And it was your fault we had twelve hours to exit the Continent anyway!”
            “There’s no way I could have forgotten that trunk! It held the painting of me and you and Katia. I wouldn’t have been as stupid as to leave it. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern left it on purpose so we’d be discovered. They set us up!”
            “No more Macbeth references!”
            “Hamlet!”
            “Whatever! It was your fault. Quit playing the child and just admit it.”
            “Katia, we need to talk shoes. Now, please.”
            “You b***h!” he roared at her.
            “Yes,” she purred, the corners of her mouth upturned in a grin. “Come, Minnolos, Prada, or classic, actually worn with, I never know.” She watched with dancing laughter as Aren turned into what appeared to be flesh-colored goo, and morph into Katerina.
            “Minnolos? With this dress? Have you lost your mind, Devlyn? I taught you better fashion than this!”
            “I know. I wasn’t serious. But how else was I supposed to get you to come out?”
            “Coward. You use the ‘Me’ loophole whenever he makes you face something you don’t want to hear. And vice-versa. You really are bad about that, you know? But never mind. I’ll be most happy to oblige you in this case. I can’t believe he didn’t catch the Rosencrantz/Hamlet thing. For Macbeth! I mean, it’s Scottish, not Danish! What an idiot. It’s not like we hadn’t seen both performances hundreds of times. Really so bad of him. Of course, he was so infatuated with Ophelia. I mean, until she went all stupid and killed herself.”
            “Dare I ask what he thought of Juliet?”
            “Too young.”
            “And what of the fair Romeo?” she teased playfully, remembering well the answer.
            “Little boy. Handsome, but young, and unrealistic!” she stressed.
            Devlyn grinned and waited patiently for the Sir Lancelot soliloquy to come about. It was all laughable now, really. “You’ve no idea, Devlyn, what it’s like to be an adulteress for the eternity of modern history! Gweneviere, fair Gwen of Air! I am idolized. I mean, I cheated, and the entire world knows. Even today, they know.”
            “At least there is documentation of your existence, Katia. Few have ever even heard of me. Those scholars that have, only know me as the chaste virgin goddess. Among them, I don’t even reign over anything! At least you experience something in your tales. And no one ever bemoans or condemns Gweneviere. It’s a tale of love and passion, betrayal and honor. Not bad, Katia.”
            Katerina rolled her eyes. “Oh, you’re missing my point. Besides, they have the whole affair all wrong anyway. and I did not look like that.”
            “Katia, you’re preaching to the choir. I was there, I well remember.”
            “You were a child then, remember? We’d decided a child’s form would be the safest for you. Your perspective is quite different.”
            “I apologize for taking my anger out on you, Katia,” Devlyn said suddenly.
Katerina smiled. “No problem. I’m healed now. You had to face and deal with your feelings. You had to handle it all somehow. I’m just glad I got to be the instrument, quite literally. I mean, I provoked you into being mad at me so that you could admit why you were upset. You did and I think you dealt with it. No problems, no hard feelings.”
            Devlyn shook her head. “My own personal problems with Bane and my bitterness with it is no reason to attack my best friend. There’s no excuse for beating you. You weren’t the one I wanted to fight with. It wasn’t fair, ,especially not when you couldn’t fight me back.”
            Katerina smiled ruefully. She had begun the fight with Devlyn both in anger at her friend’s words and because she knew that she wasn’t really the source for Devlyn’s anger but needed an outlet to identify her feelings. Katerina placed her thin hands around Devlyn’s shoulders. In her human life, Katerina had been loath to allow anyone to touch her. Even now, most of the time she was hesitant for people to touch her, and she gave off really good “f**k off” signals most of the time, unless she was out and about on the town, so to speak. Intimacy was the only time she felt free to touch, free to be touched.
            But now her hands were on Devlyn's shoulders and she was trying to find the words to speak the gravidity of the situation to her best friend. “Dev, that fight meant so much more than simply fighting me and Bane and all the emotions you were feeling, do you understand? In the midst of all of that, you transformed into the true goddess that you are. You were regal, there for a bit. In the midst of our little scuffle, you blossomed into this noble creature."
            Katerina smiled. In those moments she had caught a glimpse of the goddess within, and it had been beautiful and scary as hell at the same time. There was an ethereal glow that had radiated from her, and a diplomatic, regal air came billowing so fast it had caught Katerina off guard at first. In those few moments it became quite clear that once Devlyn took her reign, the power and authority she could command would be great. It pleased Katerina immensely to know that her innocent, beguiling friend had it in her to be autocratic and sovereign. Then again, Devlyn ranked over her, and it really went against the grain to bow down to someone.
            “Can we just forget about it?” Devlyn asked, eyes so innocuous as she looked pleadingly at her best friend and companion. She wanted to forget her horrible behavior, her outrageous behavior.
            Katerina shook her head. “No, Devlyn. We don’t forget it, we learn from it. You weren’t on the receiving end of that, Dev. I was. I saw who you will become. And no, you can’t make me forget that.”
            Devlyn just looked at her. “But I behaved atrociously.”
            Katerina waved her hand. “Nothing worse than any of your temper tantrums before, though usually I’m not on the receiving end, I’ll admit. Nothing worse than what you pulled in Montreal.”
            Devlyn glared at her. “That you promised to forget.”
            Katerina started laughing. “You dumped red wine all over the queen’s yellow gown. Like I’ll ever forget that!”
            Devlyn huffed. “She looked horrid in it anyway; it made her look sallow. She needed some color to splash it up. And she shouldn’t have said that about you. You were not some cheap mistress. As I recall, you were her husband’s most expensive mistress. She should have gotten her facts straight.”