She brought the match to her lips, blew out its flame and touched the glowing ember against her tongue where it sizzled.
She dropped it to the nightstand with a small smile curving her lips.
She then tossed the matchbox back into the drawer and closed it.
And then Valentine turned with languid but definitive purpose to the form in the bed.
* * * * *
Franka
I walked down the front steps of the Winter Palace somewhat stiffly, but I managed it, hoping I hid the stiffness by twitching my fur cloak closer around me.
That stiffness became more pronounced when I saw what awaited me at the bottom of the steps.
I was headed to the jail to see my parents.
Noc had told me he’d be accompanying me.
However, at the bottom of the steps, milling about at the side of not my sleigh but one of the queen’s sumptuously-appointed royal sleighs, stood not only Noc but also Finnie, Frey, Circe, Lahn, Cora and the Noctorno of my world (who allowed those close to him to call him Tor, something he invited I do at my command attendance at dinner last night with the lot of them and the queen).
What, by the gods, were they all doing there?
No.
No.
I didn’t care.
In my estimation from the message delivered by the bird my brother sent sharing when they’d left his home, Kristian and his family would arrive at the Winter Palace on the morrow.
It had been nine days since the drama in the buttery. Due to a physician’s care (and Josette’s), my back still ached, but it was healing far more rapidly than normal.
Noc and the rest had not ceased being friendly and sociable in this time. In fact, the more I was able to get up and about, the friendlier and more sociable they became.
This didn’t matter to me.
I wanted this final visit with my parents done and behind me. I wanted to see my brother. After that, Josette and I (and whatever maid she selected to accompany us, the task of finding said maid something Josette had thrown herself into with abandoned glee) were off to cross the Green Sea.
Therefore, whatever befell me at this present moment, and the next, and the next, I would endure.
Until I was away.
Perhaps the others were preparing to go into town. There were two royal sleighs waiting and a variety of horses.
That was likely it.
But due to the fact that they were friendly and sociable, for whatever reason traits like that made you behave in ways like this, they were milling about waiting to see Noc and I off.
Noc noticed me making my descent, and not surprisingly he broke off from chatting with Cora and Tor and jogged up the steps toward me.
“How you doin’, sweetheart?” he asked, his face a picture of concern, his hand capturing mine, and before I could pull it free he tucked my fingers around the inside of his elbow, drew me close to his side, kept his fingers snug around mine in a way I could not escape, and thus he assisted me down the steps.
“How I’m doing is being quite capable of descending a flight of steps on my own,” I replied.
“I’ll take that sass as you doin’ good,” he muttered.
I had learned from the very beginning that Noc decided to take whatever I said in whatever manner he wished to take it.
Hence in response I simply sighed.
Noc led us to the side of the sleigh where Cora and Tor were standing, and I noted Frey ceased speaking with Finnie, Lahn and Circe and came our way.
We stopped by the sleigh and Frey stopped at our grouping.
He was looking down on me with the same concern Noc showed.
“You’re certain you wish to do this, Franka?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” I answered.
He studied me a moment before he nodded once and declared, “We’ll be there with you in case something upsetting happens.”
At his words, I felt my body jolt and knew the extent of recovery in my back for I only felt a vague twinge of pain.
“I…sorry?” I asked.
Frey indicated the assemblage with a sweep of his proud head, which now included Circe, Lahn and Finnie, all of whom had joined us, before he repeated, “We’ll all be with you in case something upsetting happens.”
Dear goddess.
They were going to the jail with me.
But…
Why?
“That isn’t necessary,” I stated swiftly.
“A sister has a sister’s back,” Cora decreed. “And a sister’s man has her back.”
I looked to her. “Rest assured I mean no offense, princess, but we aren’t sisters.”
“We totally are,” she returned.
“But…” I felt my brow furrow. “Are you, that is to say, is the other me your sister in your world?”
I heard Noc chuckle and saw grins and smiles all around while Cora answered (through her own grin), “No, babe. What I’m saying is, we’re both chicks and all chicks are sisters, blood or not. And we have to look out for each other.”
How peculiar. She, too, used these slang words “babe” and “chick” to refer to her own gender.
Mad.
And women looking out for women?
That wasn’t mad. It was delusional.
It was my experience (and not experience due to my participation in such vulgar goings-on, they were so vulgar, they were even beneath me) most women, at least women of my ilk, didn’t look out for each other.
They seduced one another’s men and uttered cruel things about clothing, hairstyles, excess of weight or not enough of it, not to mention honing in on and dissecting with malicious glee anything else that might be perceived as a weakness or unattractive. Or they would harp on it to make it seem unattractive (mostly due to jealousy or spite). The sound of a voice. An ungainly talent at a dance. A gaucheness with social discourse.