Soiree

[Colette Moreau]

((This is an old thread that I am reposting so that the end of it can work into other 3rd Age plots)).

Caemlyn, Andor

Lady Graciela Armendariz

So much time and seemingly no progress beyond the reassuring words of the Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah, then one cool day an Aes Sedai herself knocks on the door to Graciela’s guest quarters within White Tower and everything changed. 

A minor bump jostled the carriage: the first she'd noticed on these impeccably smooth roads. Graciela glanced out the window once more, a twinge of guilt rising that she could not talk the women of the carriage into opening the carriage windows. She had to remember she was not tuned to the same air temperature as these Southlanders.  Where Graciela was wearing thin gloves, her hosts' were lined with rabbit fur. The same speckled furs lined the collars of their silk cloaks too. She went along with it though, despite what she felt was stifling warmth. Their constant chatting only made it worse.

The Lady seated next to her paused in her gossip long enough to pat her hand, but Graciela continued to watch the city roll by after giving only a grateful smile as to not seem impolite.  It was hard to turn her eyes elsewhere, anyway.  The street was wide, and the buildings were so tall. The same nervous awe overcame her when she first beheld the spires of Tar Valon peeking over the horizon. Up close, nestled within all the grandeur, brightly lit windows were spaced like square eyes peering back at her. Those smooth faces were adorned with intricate metalwork, usually gilded, like a noblewoman’s jewelry.  Homes abutted the fronts of shops closed for the night which abutted the sprawling fences of palaces. The one to catch her study now being the fifth they'd passed since leaving the Darwyn's manor.  It was all fascinating, in a magical, dreamy way she never fathomed even in her most elaborate of girlish imaginations, existed.  And all these petite walls! They seemed barely strong enough to contain the plushness of an overgrowing garden than to defend those that lived behind them. She had yet to see any other measure of safety precautions.  Not a single moat nor a spike wall; only the few guards pacing back and forth at the gates.  None of them wore armor with a single mark, as though only donned for ceremony.  She yearned for her homeland despite the beauty around her.

Their carriage came to a stop and soon footmen were helping the quartet of Ladies within.  When her time came, Graciela laid a silk swathed hand in the servant’s and thanked him for the assistance.  He looked almost aghast, and Graciela quickly wondered what custom she'd broken to offend him so. The answer never came, however, merely his graciousness for the acknowledgement and saw her safely from the street without muddling the hem of her gown. 

The ladies in her company wore opulent dresses in quite a contrast to her own. Their corsets hefted their busts and narrowed their waists. Around their necks circled broad and gleaming jewels often with matching gems in their ears or adorning their tightly curled hair. Graciela's modest dress displayed only the prominence of the Shienaran royal house and her husband’s honor. Around her waist was draped with a long belt rather than narrowed by tight boning. Simple flowers danced across her chest and down the sleeves in metal threads.  Crimson red and dark gray were her skirts, a style she came to learn was not popular among the Andorans, which they found quite noteworthy.

Theirs was one of many carriages waiting to deposit travelers upon the grand entrance of the Taravin’s palatial estate. Fountains, winter roses and lights greeted her as she emerged. As she was aided, her daughter, the raven-haired Lady Misaki and other daughters of the Darwyn’s were helped from their carriage.  Misaki would be introduced separately, Graciela had been told.  She was of an age to deserve her own recognition according to Andoran custom.

She gave her daughter an encouraging smile, and was soon swept inside.

[Colette Moreau]

"Nicole Candraed"

The Taravin's great hall was bejeweled with its grandest decor.  It was little changed from centuries past when a young Lady Corele floated in its waters, drenched in the golden droplets from magnificent chandelier crystals. Marble harvested from the Mountains of Mist dripped narrow white lines like waterfalls interrupting crimson wallpaper.  So long ago were those memories, though, she barely remembered what it felt to live here. Amid it once more, she didn’t flutter even a single sad eyelash to return; the home that drew upon her heartstrings was in Tar Valon.  All she currently shared with this place now was surname and distant blood.  She was aware there were some whispers. Usually dismissed, for how could the country-born, hazel-eyed Nicole Candraed possibly be related to the Taravins. Nobody would guess the truth: that it was Corele who was the ancestor and Lord Taravin the descendant.

A servant approached the trio of Ladies standing near the table that was to be theirs for the evening. The room was filling with the wealth of Caemlyn though so far only a smattering of middle-tiered nobles were gathered in their customary gossip groups, Nicole included. The three Ladies accepted goblets, the finest of Domani crystal, then leaned their heads together to comment on rivals. Which so far, at least, was expectedly judgmental, but Nicole had to participate, so she watched expectantly for the hour to approach when the more powerful would arrive. Given the word that House Darwyn was hosting Borderlander royalty, well, that explained why House Taravin hosted a ball. While the house of the Golden Falcons was a force in its own right, everyone remembered when a Taravin sat the throne as regent of Andor, and surrendered it to Trakand of its own free will. 

Even the lesser lords and ladies, even if they were not directly targeting the throne for themselves, they were content to sit back and watch Darwyn and Taravin attempt to carve out the greatest favor. Meaning a ball thrown by one of the Great Houses of Andor mandated the others - and their guests - would attend. 

Nicole sipped her wine at leisure and while they waited for the big players to grace their presence, she amended her companion's critique of their peers' fashion choices with some insights of her own. 

"Deep blues have been out of favor since the Queen's nameday feast." She tsk'ed as Desiree Arawn was introduced, her silk skirts were a peacock blue slashed with wintery cream.  The two Ladies leaned, eyes glinting to hear more, they had both been at the same feast, but only the Lady in Waiting had been close enough to the Queen's table to hear the compliment she gave to a Cairhienin noblewoman. 

"She complimented Lady Catalyan of House Hilyan, who was wearing ice blue. Cold and beautiful as a frosted Saldaean rose, she'd said. Frost is the only shade of blue to wear this winter."

Nicole was, of course, not wearing the shade. If she had, it would be seen as supporting her own selection rather than critiquing another's lack of it. Hers were wintergreen skirts lined with powdery pink with pink and yellow scrolls along her corset and sleeves. A pair of small pink stones dropped from her lobes, but her jewels were clouded and set in silver rather than fat gems surrounded by gold and diamonds of the wealthier ladies. House Candraed was after all a country line without even a single manor in the capital. She simply did not have the means for elaborate fineries. 

She tilted her glass and dipped her head toward Lady Desiree who would walk the rest of the night with the shadow of her poor choice of gown color tainting her every move. Lady Desiree walked on oblivious. Either she was so far unconnected from the currents (in fashion and in politics) to ignore the change in direction heralded by the Queen or she wearing the opposite of the Queen's favored trend on purpose as a symbol of political opposition in ways young noblewomen liked to project. Either way, House Arawn would be undermined the rest of the night.  They were one of the groups against the trade of troops to Shienar, claiming the Legion of the Dragon was the better organization for such services while Andor had their own borders to protect. Then there were these rumors of instability in Murandy. Well, in Corele's forward thinking eyes, the Blight was the more important venture.

[Colette Moreau]

Lady Misaki Armendariz

Misaki was left in the foyer patiently looking around until her turn came. Her cloak had been taken by an ornately dressed servant, as well as her gloves, and another had come to offer her a warm towel to freshen her neck and dab her hands. She'd never seen a man in heels before, and she was suddenly aware of the flatness beneath her slippers. The Andoran girls she'd shared the carriage with also wore heeled shoes, but theirs were elaborately worked with thread with sparkling little jewels gleamed at the points of their toes.

"Lady Misaki?" She startled, pulling her eyes from the chandelier overhead. She nodded, sweeping two small palms across her skirts. They were formed in the style of her mother’s, with a shimmery black laid across milky cream.  White and silvery flowers were tightly sewn across the front and matched a belt that draped long from her waist. Her dark hair was pulled gently back at the sides and adorned with a ribbon. She felt so different from these Andoran girls brushing past her even now. A honey haired Lady a few years older than Misaki adjusted her bust and curled her ruby lips into a smile when she caught Misaki watching. Her curls were tight spirals bouncing by her ears, and a sparkling tiara held the rest of her hair into a bun.

The servant tapped a cane in the doors beyond, and Misaki heard her name and titles proclaimed. House Taravin's great hall was dazzling. It was filled with so much warmth, light, and richness. Music circled and soon, Misaki was swept into the outstretched arms of Andoran society. Her mother was no where to be seen, but there was little time to search for her. An arm twined through her elbow and she was pulled in practically against her will, though she wasn’t fighting it exactly. The first girl to find her was was that of young Lady Coraline Carand. She was a distant cousin of the High Seat of House Carand, and the same age as herself. Misaki smiled down politely, she was the taller of the two girls. Even with her heels, Coraline was several inches shorter. They were introduced several days ago at the Darwyn’s estate. 

“Lady Misaki what a lovely dress, I never would have thought the lack of color could be so cheerful." 

Misaki laughed a little, her face alighting with the compliment. She then gestured at Coraline's sapphire silk and amethyst velvets.  "Oh my honorable friend, Coraline. I am in your shadow tonight. You are a pure vision."  Coraline seemed amused, and she continued onward, leading the Shienaran guest on a full circle of the room. Misaki returned the many eyes that studied with her a polite smile, hoping such was sufficient to meet their honorable customs. Hopefully the Lords and Ladies of the evening did not find her rude for not stopping, but Coraline tugged her onward like a willing trophy.

Then a tap on Lady Carand's shoulder and the girls paused. Misaki slowly circled about and she saw what was undoubtedly the most handsome girl she'd ever seen.  She had a stern face that flashed heat toward her company, a stiff dress with an ample bosom despite being barely fifteen. Coraline seemed to recognize her and greeted her familiarly, "You look well as always cousin."

"Cora, you're going to exhaust the poor girl before the night has even started. We all know what you're doing strolling about like girlfriends, now shoo away for a bit and give the child some rest. There's still dancing to come.  Now go on.” This newcomer had drawn a few pairs of eyes, Misaki noticed, glancing around her. A young man in the company of nearby gentlemen turned to look at them. He had sweeping blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that made Misaki distinctly uncomfortable just to look upon him. He was clearly one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen before, and she recognized him as one of their hosts in Caemlyn. Drake Darwyn, the young Lord of the House of Darwyn. Nephew of the High Seat and first heir since his cousin’s abdication. She recited what she knew of him and looked away.

That was when she noticed the loose thread on the handsome woman's sleeve.  Some of the embroidery must have been caught, perhaps getting hung up on the clasps between her pearl necklace.  "Oh my."  Misaki started, and both girls looked at her as though surprised she'd spoken up.  She was embarrassed, but she pointed out the flaw on the lady's dress, "Perhaps you should have that tended to?" Wide eyes looked between the two, questioning whether it was the right thing to say. 

Coraline studied her own shoulder, looking shocked, and moments later the two spun on their heels and stalked off, skirts swaying, to tend to the clothing emergency as soon as possible.  Misaki understood the rush for the one girl, but why did Coraline leave as well?  "What did I say?” She asked herself, startled when someone actually responded.

"Something brilliant, my lady." 

She turned, uneasy to discover it was indeed Drake who came close.

He signaled to a nearby servant who promptly hurried at his request to their sides. He presented her with a crystal flute of sparkling wine and took another for himself.  Misaki looked at the liquid but did not drink. Her mother would never allow it. “What was so brilliant about that, My Lord?" Her question was genuine.

He momentarily glanced the way the two ladies had gone.  They were no where to be seen by now. "The Lady Carand was using you as a puppet to show you off to her friends while the Lady Exion came to pull rank to seemingly rescue you yet at the same time she intended to do the same thing. Your rebuttal, pointing out the flaw, refused the latter's attentions while yet avoiding defending the former's.  In one simple, brilliant move, you rid yourself of both. And they had no idea you had it in you. That is Daes Dae’mar. It seems you’re a natural. And at what? Twelve? Thirteen?” He lifted in glass in toast and then wandered away.

“Thirteen,” Misaki replied, blinking.  She did all that?  Her lips parted to correct him, assure him that she'd intended no such thing!  But only silence trailed in his wake, so she put the glass to her lips and took a tiny sip of the wine.

[Colette Moreau]

Lady Kymira Taravin

Kymira was standing with her friends beneath the grand chandelier directly in the center of the great hall. Well, the bright-eyed, clever Fawn was her friend, the pretty girl of House Pendar grew up going to all the same lessons and balls as Kymira. Their two Houses were allies as well, and in her history lessons Kymira knew that Pendar once supported Lady Dyelin for the Lion Throne. The two girls shared a smile that only friends with close secrets knew and locked their arms together.  Fawn had turned down a dance already, saying her feet were not yet ready to break in her heels, but once the snub nosed boy of House Marne was out of earshot, Fawn pointed out that his bulging belly had burst one of the buttons on his vest and he had fig jelly dribbled on his shirt. The girls shared a giggle, which of course meant their company had to know what it was that'd taken their fancy.

There was no time, for the name that perked every noble ear tonight stole the attention.  Togita stuck out like a rose in the snow. Two beautiful names preceded, followed by endless honorifics and on and on and on. Titles and names that Kymira felt like she'd been told to remember but had already forgotten. Then, arm in arm with Fawn, the two girls peeked on their tip toes through the mass of coifed hairdos. The ballgowns parted like pulled curtains and Kymira caught a glimpse of the Shienaran royal.  She was pale like a Cairhienin, but her dark hair and eyes looked far kinder than any Cairhienin Kymira had ever seen.  She smiled and nodded, and was swept into the room in company of half a dozen Lords and Ladies Kymira was told she was too young to accompany.  Someday I won't be too young.  Someday I’ll be married to a powerful Lord myself, and they'll take me seriously then. 

"When did you get this?" Kymira's heart-shaped face looked down at the pearl ring that Fawn was twisting around her finger. "Oh!  That's the ring!" Her friend suddenly realized. Kymira smiled a dazzling white smile in response, pulled her shoulders back and held her breath tight like the glamorous ladies older than her, but someone overheard.

"What ring is the ring Ky dear?" Cartera Coelan leaned over, stealing Kymira's hand into her own and holding the pearl up to the light. It was set in shining silver of the purest quality as could be found. Far purer and more expensive than anything Cartera was wearing, which was just random speckles of mint green jewels set in a regular gold necklace. “Gift from your parents?” she looked smug.

"The ring that came from my secret admirer is what it is." Cartera's mousy lips dropped in disbelief.  "Yes, and I have the note to prove it!  Safely locked away in my bedroom of course.  You know at the last ball Evan Ferande asked me to dance twice!  So it might be him, he kissed my hand when we were done, and I know his thumb grazed my wrist when he led me away." She snatched back her own hand now that Cartera was looking at the ring more closely.  Evan was the Head of his House despite being only sixteen, he could certainly afford such a valuable jewel. Kymira only smiled and talked on, "Then there was Ansha Sarand who followed me around like a lost puppy at the Queen's feast day in the palace.  How he managed to be invited to something like that I’ll never fathom!  I overheard Lord Drake," all the girls nodded dreamily when she mentioned the handsome young Lord's name - he had something of a following among Kymira's group, being the misfortunate tragic hero that he was losing both his parents and the chance to rule his House like he did. His own cousin abdicating the Seat.

The girls cast glances around to check if any of the Darwyns were within earshot and Kymira whispered on, "I heard him tell one of his wimply little cousins that House Sarand shouldn't count as one of the Great Nineteen, go ahead and tuck their tails, and slink back off to the country where they belong."  The girls gasped and Kymira nodded excitedly.  Well, she didn't hear it exactly put that way, but that's what he meant.  She was sure of it.

"Maybe the ring is from him.."  Fawn nudged her playfully, and Kymira glanced around for the boy of current conversation. If only that were the case! Then he was spied. “Oh!  Who is he talking?  And what is she wearing??"

They all turned their heads at the same time.  Drake had somehow tracked down the plainest girl any of them had ever seen.  She was tall and narrow as a beanpole.  Her dress wasn't even boned!  She was probably the same age as them, or close anyway, but the girl was in desperate need of a waist, some cinching, and lots of tinted powder for those pale cheeks. 

"Oh wait, that's the Lady Togita's daughter.  She was introduced, I remember hearing it now.  Lady Misaki."  Ugh, they all seemed to cringe at once.  Who named their kids words from the Old Tongue, anyway?  The Lady Graciela was so elegant and poised.  Her attire and hair were adorned oddly, but the name gave her intrigue.  Lady Misaki, in her black and white and loose hair didn't get to inherit the royal name apparently, so she was just another  borderlander that the rest of them had to put up with this season.  Whyever would Drake want to talk to her, and was he laughing??  “I heard they are staying with the Darwyns. Wouldn’t that be a shocking match?!” Cartera laughed at her expense, but Kymira only glared. She was tired of talking about borderlanders. 

”Ignore them. Oh! Let's get wine."

[Colette Moreau]

"Nicole Candraed"

Corele rightly kept an eye on things.  Playing the role of a minor noble meant she could move in and out of the groupings easily, although few of those circles parted to give her more than a cursory acknowledgement, let alone actually invite her into the conversation.  Nobody was particularly rude as she filtered, a honeybee checking out the flowers but never truly stopping to sip the nectar.  They recognized one of the Queen's Ladies in Waiting, even out of the matching dress all of the attendants wore.  Lady Candraed, the sole representative of the country House in the city, was obviously trying to break into society.  Lady in Waiting being the first step to establish her name, then attending functions on her own to try and establish some respect.

Of course, that was exactly the way Corele preferred it.  Filtering the young and old around her, she overheard lots of interesting things such as a grouping of Lords discussing whether or not to sojourn to the gentleman's parlor to be about their business in private. Many an unmarried lady fluttered about, prancing and preening for the eye of her next dance partner or stoking the embers of jealousy. For all of it, Corele was mostly relieved to not have to share their burden of that spotlight. She certainly had no interest in marriage. Almost two centuries in the White Tower had been enough commitment for her, and if she lost another it would finish her.

Her ears prickled on the conversation carrying on among a group of girls nearby, buzzing around the up and coming Kymira Taravin. The child was near to fifteen, and one of the High Seat's children Corele liked to keep a peripheral eye upon. Her and her group were making waves as they moved, though they seemed oblivious to their affect. She was in the company of a girl from an allied House and two from rivals, both of which was fitting and intentional. They likely all attended the same embroidery circles, music lessons, and etiquette dinners; one to keep an eye on each other, and two to present civil faces despite what happened behind their parents' closed doors.

Some investigating on her part discovered the intrigue of rumor concerning young Kymira. Rumors were always to be expected for a prominent noble like her, even as a teenager, but the circumstances were too odd for Corele to shrug it off as girlhood nonsense.

The girls were distracted watching the Shienarans. The moment the girls turned their powdered faces side, she swept up next to Kymira. Corele knew she was passing for something of about twenty, but it wasn’t out of the realm of ordinary to be acquaintances.

"Lady Kymira," she dipped a small, appropriate curtsy for the prominent noble, who turned upon the call of her name and broke into a wide smile, eyes glinting. Corele smiled back warmly. The two were something of friends. 

"Hello Nicole!  I didn't know you were here.  How is the queen?" Kymira's eyes, the same shade as Corele's, glinted playfully.  The child seemed to enjoy the idea she was close personal friends with someone whom the queen must treat like a sister. If only Kymira realized that Ladies in Waiting were closer to the queen's chamberpot than the actual woman, but there was still something to be said for a Lady who heard everything coming from the queen’s bedchamber when her husband visited. At least until the wards went up, but the One Power couldn't hide the aftermath. As Keeper, Corele certainly never imagined what that would be like to witness. The first time, she nearly froze with shock. 

"The Queen is lovely, thank you."  She smiled despite realizing Kymira did not inquire about herself personally, only the queen. Which was fine with Corele. She would have said much the same about herself. She quickly took note of what was on Kymira’s slender finger.

"Oh! Look at that ring you have there." One of the girl's companions glanced over, and Corele felt dissected by Kymira’s peer. The young noble frowned with disdain and went back to gossiping with the others until Kymira was unburdened again. They probably found it odd that Kymira associated with Nicole, but Kymira did not seem to notice the dismissal, and instead thrust the keepsake forward for Nicole to examine. Perched prominently was an enormous pearl of a rare blue tint. It certainly outshone the plainer jewels the Nicole wore tonight.

"A secret admirer?" Nicole tilted her head at the explanation, playing along, but clearly unbelieving. By then Kymira’s friends had become enthralled in their own little group and Nicole and Kymira were left to a moment of privacy. She lowered her voice. “You know that if your parents found out about that, they'll demand to know who it came from. Admiring a noble of your standing, if from the right source, could aid you as much as ruin you if from the wrong one.  And with your best years at Court still ahead of you..." she tsk'ed and shook her head sadly. Kymira's eyes furrowed and she glanced nervously at her hand. "And if its a fake, they'll demand to know how you came upon something on your own, and may send you to the country for a season until the rumor you spread dies out." 

Kymira's jaw dropped in shock.  Nearby movement caught Nicole’s eye. She hurried, “Your brother is coming over." Kymira twisted around. Indeed, her older brother was approaching. His eyes were on Nicole, and he smiled in a way that made her stomach flutter slightly.  He's your nephew... she reminded herself.  But the Lord and heir to the House had tempted her at court before with his charms, but there was always the excuse of the Queen to draw her away from the look in his eye. Here, she had no such excuse. 

She sipped some of her wine only discover that the glass was frustratingly empty. Kymira was tugging on her hand to do something, and Corele quickly thought of an idea. "Give me the ring, Kymira.  I'll hold it for you." The girl obeyed, tugged it from her finger but held onto it hesitantly. Nicole's eyes narrowed sternly, urging her. "I'll stay right by your side, I promise." Moments later, Nicole slipped the pearl onto her own hand, thrust her hand behind her back, and Kymira breathed a sigh of relief just as her brother joined them. 

He smiled down at his baby sister, who bat her eyelashes innocently in return. The Lord didn't buy it, and squeezed his sister affectionately on the shoulder, laughing. It was to Nicole, however that he bowed his head. A reverence from a gentleman to a beautiful girl that'd caught his eye, even one so far below his station that the courtesy was hardly necessary. Corele swallowed, distant nephew.  A far, far distant nephew. 

Suppressing the uncharacteristic nerves, she smiled. It seemed to light the distance in her eyes for the emotion she felt washed her entire expression. As she had for Kymira, she dipped a demure curtsy. "My Lord. You're looking well."

Leodon Taravin nodded appreciatively. Kymira's friends glanced over at the arrival of the newcomer. He flashed them all a brotherly smile, but they were unimpressed. Leodon was over thirty now, and much too old to be the object of their affections. Drake Darwyn, at eighteen, was the limit of their girlish fanclub.

"You as well Lady Nicole... And of course my sister.  That's your first cup of wine, I hope."  He nodded at the crystal perched in Kymira's hands.  She smiled and assured her brother she was being prudent.  "Good, good."  He laughed.  His own empty hands stole the drained glass from Nicole's, and cast it to a passing servant.  "Nicole I will not be refused a dance.  As it hasn't escaped my notice nobody else has had the spine to ask you."  He held out his arm expectantly, and Kymira looked aghast, not at the coupling of her eligible brother to a pretty thing like Nicole, but that if Nicole left in his company, so also did the ring on her hand!

Nicole snaked her arm in Leodon's, but flashed Kymira an apologetic smile as she was led away. The girl didn't trust her, but she need not worry, Corele had no intention of keeping the ring for herself.

[Colette Moreau]

"Nicole Candraed" and Lord Leodon Taravin

Corele was as expected a flawless dancer. Young Kymira would understand, as the child of the High Lord and Lady that ruled over House Taravin as Corele herself once was would be expected to perform with nothing but flawless precision when the time came.  The child was unaware, given the anonymity of her distant relation, but they sprang from a near identical childhood.

The centuries of life as Aes Sedai that followed naturally cultivated Corele into something far more sophisticated than she led on, but there was the rare moment when something of the creature she'd been glimmered. 

Dancing, being a vigorous and wholesome experience for the mind and body, it was expected by the Queen that all her retainers be proficient when called upon. Nicole would have entered this regal world of entertainment with basic knowledge of the country dance, where couples stood in a line facing one another, progressing up and down until the line concluded by a march of the couples on display. 

The high court dances enjoyed by those like Leodon was a skill Nicole had to acquire, but everyone, the Queen included, remarked upon her seemingly natural talent. How her long neck craned graceful as a swan and her arms arched delicately in the hands of her partner. She took to the foreign influences of international music majestically as though she were well-traveled herself. More to the point, she acquired the ability to be swept from her feet without ever seeming to truly practice beforehand.  It was all part of the intrigue that followed her through court, part of the whispers of the up and coming Nicole. 

Leodon released her arm and when the intensity of his gaze flushed her skin, she was thankful for the distance that separated them as she fell into line of ladies.  A woman of House Marne, wearing jade and crimson nodded from one side, and a girl with the golden hair of House Exion nodded from the other. None of them several skirts in either direction were quite the royal red-gold of Andor, none perhaps but the stately Leodon and Nicole. 

Lutes started, followed by strings, and the stately, professional dance paraded around the hall.  She held her breath the moment their fingers touched, ever so lightly, and she counted the steps until she could withdraw her arm. The sight of the women's gowns trailed their skirts like the feathers of a peacock's tail, and the gentleman's tailcoats fluttered with each forward step. It was magnificent. 

Down and back, fingertips touching and breaking, and his stately accent voice filtered through the movement. "That is a beautiful ring, Nicole."

She glanced at her hand, the blue pearl catching the light briefly "How kind of you to notice Lord Taravin."  A small smile to accompany the polite response.

"How could I not? May I inquire after the identity of the Lord against whom I am now competing for your affections?" She thought him teasing, but when she met his eye, she had a feeling he was genuinely perplexed.

Withdrawing her hand finally, but unable to respond, Corele pivoted smoothly away to the cadence of somber music.  It wasn't until they were brought back together, palms touching as though to caress one anothers cheeks, that she swallowed the growing feeling in her stomach. She was determined to meet his hawk-like gaze no matter how nervous it made her. So she delved into the narrative she had to immediately invent instead. How was she going to answer for Kymira's ring? So she stalled. “I wasn't aware My Lord was seeking affection at all. Perhaps he should settle with the same anonymity forced upon me and his anxiety will be eased." A coy smile followed. The answer was simple.  Kymira did have a decent idea about a secret admirer after all. If only Leodon believed the tale.

They parted again, each rounding the couple next to them, but neither of their gazes left the other, even as she was taken to walking along, fingertip to fingertip, with a neighboring man. 

A girl like her should find Leodon enchanting, she told herself.  He was far from Nicole's class, and their rare meetings only took place in court. Nicole might as well try to circle the sun as capture Leodon Taravin yet Corele felt as skiddish as a girl Kymira's age.  He is your nephew. Control yourself.  What did she expect anyway?  Someday her prospects would be lost, just as those pretty eyes would be mixed with wrinkles. The best Nicole could hope would be nothing more than a shunned mistress. The thought was sobering, and gave her the legs to resist melting in his eager arms.

A livelier dance followed next, and she was not released from his attention. The couples came to each other's arms with the gentlemen leading the near athletic-like cadence. She was forced into his sphere then, close enough to scent the enticement of his cologne and palm the plush velvet of his coat. It was too much to continue the dialogue then, but in a way, what was unspoken touched her in ways his tempting words could not. The flashed glances, the coy smiles. They were flirting, and she rather enjoyed the act in ways she hadn't in this new life she lived. If it wasn’t for her impeccable control, she would likely be blushing. Aes Sedai did not flirt certainly not that of the Blue Ajah. They did dance on occasion though. The main step of the dance was a large jump, men holding the waist of their ladies, and a twirl to set her back to her feet opposite where she started followed. If the female partner did not snake her hands up the gentleman's arms and balance on his shoulders, she would be flung airborn without a graceful landing. She could feel the muscles in his shoulders flex as he lifted her like a bag of feathers. She performed it flawlessly, but it was sheer torture.

The final crescendo ended and her heart was pounding. A whisk of sweat touched Leodon's neck, but be bowed anyway, suppressing swift breath beneath his layers of clothes in ways she could not. Her lungs were burning, her corset felt too tight, and he led her from the heated center of persons with no resistance from her part.

The terrace was blessedly cooler, and large round braziers flickered in the dark air to give the garden beyond habitability. Only did she cease fanning herself with her hand when he handed her a cool glass. She gratefully wet her lips, and her lungs began to soothe to normal respiration until she realized he was looking at her.  Eyes glinting as if he knew something she did not. It was oddly unsettling. 

"May I see the ring?"

"Are we still discussing this?

He held out his hand expectantly, "My family trades in pearls from the Aryth Ocean.  It seems midlanders want pearls and coastals want mountain jewels." One of the pillars of House Taravin's wealth was seated in mines from the Mountains of Mist. Mines exactly like the abandoned crevices in Corarethern; a place Corele was sorely tempted to plant the seeds that her family should ‘rediscover’ it. 

Finding no other recourse, she slipped off the ring and placed it gently in his palm. His assessment was surprisingly thorough as he must have been well-trained to do. He held the setting high and even with his eyes. The pearl reflected the flames with delicate clarity.  The flawless globe was round as the sun. The diamonds in the setting sparkled. 

"Nicole this is very valuable. The setting alone would trade for a ruby the size of my thumb but the pearl. Color tinted pearls are rare indeed, but a blue like this is nearly priceless." 

"Is it?" She was genuinely surprised. As a girl, she was not learned in the business of the House as Kymira would not have been either. Her brother, Leodon’s great-father, was groomed for such affairs. However had Kymira come by such a thing? 

He was about to hand it back to her, but then something caught his eye, and he pulled it back curiously peering into the inner band.  "Mi Mashiara."  He read the inscription and her heart paused. "Your champion is an educated man, it seems.  Wealth and intelligence?  I do have competition." Leodon smiled, sincere and charming, but it didn't land upon her. Her attention was lowered only to the ring. 

A cool mask came over her. Leodon must have thought her demeanor unsettled, for he hurriedly explained himself. "I mean that as a compliment to you, of course.  Every man should be so forward with scribing your praises in the Old Tongue." A rising tone of a question ended his words, as though wondering if she had indeed known it was Old Tongue or hadn’t puzzled out its translation or offended her in thinking her ignorant.  Few but High Nobles, and Aes Sedai of course, were taught more than a passing phrase in the New Era.

She accepted the ring back, and slowly slipped it on her finger.  It fit perfectly, sized for her hand. A hundred questions ravaged her mind.  A hundred impossible questions. 

He asked if she was okay. "I have to go." She left him there, looking hurt, or worse, jealous.

[Colette Moreau]

Lady Kymira Taravin

Kymira tapped her foot, crossed and uncrossed her arms, and paced back and forth. All between leering out the door and glancing in the direction her one-minded brother had taken Nicole. She'd seen the apologetic look the Lady in Waiting issued before the dance, and Kymira was likely to forgive, but that had been ages ago! And now Nicole had yet to return. All she had to do was curtsy like everyone else and walk away from the dance floor.  It was so simple a kid could do it!  So what was taking so long?

She turned to leer again, but nearly jumped out of her heels instead. She was nearly overrun by Nicole herself, who was blazing along, skirt swishing, back inside. Kymira jumped out of the way, expression soon furrowing from shock to frustration. "What took so long!"  She was still wearing the ring. Thank the Light! 

Nicole stared at her like a statue. She looked angry. Then without a single word of explanation, and definitely not giving back the ring, Kymira was soon dragged away from the Great Hall. She sheepishly glanced away from a pair of guards, and the two ladies found a spot away from eavesdroppers.  "Nicole what's going on?  Did Leo get mad?"  Nicole released her arm, but her face was stern and cold. She took the ring off and held it between them, "Kymira, tell me right now how you came by this." 

Ky reached to take it, but Nicole yanked it back.  To which the rightful owner of the ring put her hands on her hips defiantly.  "I told you before," but Nicole cut her off.  Her voice made her swallow nervously. “You're lying about it.  Right now child." 

Kymira looked up and down the hall. This corridor led toward parts of the house she didn't often go. The gentlemen's parlor was down and to the left while her father's library and study split toward the right. Why did Nicole want to know so badly? Was something wrong?  Did Leo know she'd made the whole thing up? Light, did her father?  "Look I found it, okay.  But if I hadn't taken everything, it all would have been stolen by some grubby fingered servant anyway."  She crossed her arms, mouth petulant until she realized she'd admitted there had been more than a ring.

Nicole's cheeks smoothed harder than frozen pond water.  When she spoke her mouth barely parted and calm demands leaked out. Kymira had the distinct feeling she was about to be in real trouble, but she didn't understand why, and it only made her mad.  She couldn't believe she was giving in to a waif of a weak noble like Nicole. She groaned and went on. “It was left in the crypts."

As soon as she said it, Kymira wished she hadn't.  Nicole's statuesque glaze looked sickly now, and Kymira dropped her crossed arms. "By whom child?” The question sounded almost as thin as Nicole's pallor looked. Kymira glanced nervously at the stiff-dressed guards in the distance.  Nobody else was watching, but the way the two of them were whispering, surely they couldn't overhear from this far? 

"I don't know.  This man who came to visit my father.  An Asha'man, actually."  She said it rather proudly in retrospect but thought buzzed behind Nicole's hawk-like eyes. Kymira had always been too distracted by Nicole’s scar to notice she really did have pretty eyes and high, tilted cheekbones. She was wearing pink cream under them right now, make-up Kymira was only just now allowed to wear since debuting at court her last nameday.  But she had a feeling Nicole would look beautiful even without it. Maybe not beautiful in the traditional sense, but, stately anyway.  She was only a handful of years older, but Kymira wished she could look so sophisticated. 

She tried to calm herself. "Nicole what's going on?" 

"We're going to the crypts.”

A fresh jolt of worry and Kymira opened her mouth to protest, but she followed Nicole anyway. The woman walked like she was on a cloud, and Kymira tried to reproduce it, but the grace was lost in the rush to get ahead of her to lead the way. She never quite managed to step around, but it didn't seem to bother Nicole. How could the mere Lady in Waiting know where to go? 

This part of the grounds was not as festive as that nearer the Ballroom where Leodon took Nicole. They found their way easy enough, with Nicole continuing to go as if she knew exactly where the stoic entrance could be found.  Another guard stood sentry at the gate.  His jerkin was blazed with the Oak and Owl, but beneath Kymira could see the glint of steel rings and other hints of armor. He had a grizzled snarl to him that Kymira found uncomfortable, but she lifted her chin and rounded Nicole anyway, summoning all her presence to issue orders.  "Unlock the gate. I wish to pay my ancestors a visit."

He bowed without hesitation and immediately produced a wicked looking key. Nicole seemed content to let Kymira handle everything, but she descended the steps first as soon as the gate creaked open. A single brazier burned at the bottom of the stairs. It cast a long, subterranean walkway with creepy low light, but as soon as Nicole thrust a torch into the coals, shadows and stone and alcoves burst with flickering shadows. Nicole turned, holding the torch away from her dress. "Show me where.  Exactly where." 

Kymira shivered nervously. It had been daytime when she was here before. Coming at night seemed... wrong. Like cold gnarled hands were going to claw their way out of every alcove she walked past. After what seemed ages, they came to the right spot. It was a hallowed out hull in the side of the passage. "There." Centered within was the statue of Corele Sedai with her unnatural globes for eyes staring forward as though she saw something beyond the grave Kymira couldn't sense. Her stone-white shawl was draped across her shoulders. Her dress was in the outdated shape of a corset and her skirt slashed in the way Aes Sedai liked. Kymira looked up at that face, wondering what Corele was like, then wondering if her father really would send her to the country for a season. 

Nicole was similarly staring up at the face, expression as blank and perfect as the statue itself staring back down.  She whispered a question that hung like smoke on the air, as though as fearful of disturbing as Kymira. "He visited your father and then came to the crypts?”  Kymira nodded, cringing. Even the whisper seemed too loud like the dead was going to take offense any moment. If Nicole saw her nod, the news was absorbed without a hint of reaction, but she must have seen. Kymira's eyes were starting to adjust by now, but what few details came into focus, she wished would go away.  She was just positive she saw something move along the floor.  Nicole asked another question. “What did he look like?”

She thought back to the brief moment she'd seen his face pass by. "Lean."  She'd seen him from the side first.  "He walked like a cat about to pounce."  She had followed him until she realized where he was going and had to turn around for fear of being caught. "He had long blonde hair tied back behind his neck."  She twisted her lips thoughtfully, "Oh.  He had a longsword like a borderlander." That was all she remembered. 

Nicole gently placed the torch into its bracket on the wall so she could remove the ring. Kymira's fingers itched to take it back while the Lady stared into the blue pearl.  Then there was one last command.  "Go and bring back the other things you found with it child."  She spoke softly, and when she looked over, Kymira felt her plea.  It wasn't a command after all, Nicole looked like she was practically begging. 

"Okay."  She took a deep breath, disliking the notion of the long walk back to the exit alone. The brazier was the only light all the way down there. "Its in my keep box in my room. It might take a while to get there and back.”  Nicole nodded soberly, and Kymira gathered her courage, and her skirts, cleared her mind and left Nicole alone. Only when she met fresh air again did she remember to breathe it in, and remember to wonder just exactly why she was so eager to obey Nicole Candraed. 

The Guard glanced over, then down the lonely flight of stairs. Kymira shook her head, and he understood her companion was still within. Then the guard noticed approaching footsteps and bowed more deeply for who approached. Kymira tilted curiously, then gasped when she realized why.  "Leodon!  What are you doing here!"

He lifted his brows, "I could ask the same about you two." 

Ky's stomach knotted up.

[Colette Moreau]

Lady Kymira Taravin

Kymira nervously smoothed her hands on her skirt, but kept her head up. There was still that creepy guard watching, and Ky avoided looking him straight in the eyes until she realized Leo had no problem with it. The guard shifted a little bit when he asked if everything was okay.  His metal rustled, but Leo confidently assured him everything was fine moments before banishing her.  "Kymira, you've taken a headache and will retire to your room for the evening. I'll make sure to send your apologies with our guests."  She balked, crossed her arms and frowned.  Then after a stern look from Leodon, sniffed. "Fine I was just going to my room anyway,” with a quick spin, she took off toward the main house. At least she didn’t have to walk all the way back down here again.

"Nicole Candraed" and Lord Leodon Taravin

The moment Kymira's footsteps faded, Corele let out the whimper she'd been holding. She put her hands to her face, cheeks tingling, grieving all over again. 

Lennox was always her breaking point.  Nobody could rile her anger or her affection quite like him. More than once she wondered how things might have gone had he appeared in the Three Arches those dozens of decades before he was actually born. Frustrated or fascinated, Corele might not have been able to walk away from the three hardest things she'd ever had to do he had been in one of them. 

Grief. It spawned fresh agony that was the emptiness consuming her without saidar. It'd been enough years, she was worried she'd forget what it was like to channel. Despite what she could pretend to experience in Tel'Aran'Rhiod, it wasn't the same. She knew she wasn't truly channeling in the dreamworld. She knew she wasn't Aes Sedai. She thought she’d come to terms with this.

Was she so desperate for closure that she was seeing monsters in the shadows? Ghosts coming back to haunt her?  Fate Sedai had claimed the man who'd kidnapped her, who'd committed all those atrocities, who'd gave himself to the Dark One had been her Lennox, but that man died. The Brown saw him die. Right? Could there have been any other interpretation to the way Fate reported events transpired? She'd never believed that monster was her Golden Hawk. She couldn't. Calm down, she thought, but she couldn’t calm down. Devastated droplets soon glistened her cheeks.

Kymira described the man who'd left this ring was an Asha'man, but Lennox couldn’t channel yet the description was certainly a blademaster's walk. The authority of a man who knew exactly who and what he was. The long, blonde hair. Such a description could only be one of two men, and there was absolutely no reason for Kentrillo to be leaving wedding rings at Corele Sedai's marker. She shook her head dismissively.

If that weren't confusing enough, there were still the allegations put forth by Matias Winther - as if anyone in Caemlyn with half an ear hadn't heard. Could this mystery Asha'man have been Lord Winther's alleged assassin? It all happened about the same time.

Then footsteps shook her thoughts. Surely Kymira wasn’t returned so swiftly, but to her dismay, she realized the outline belonged to her brother. She gasped fresh air to her throat, tightened her shoulders and wiped tears from the rims of her eyes. When she turned to greet him, Corele was hauntingly serene. ”My Lord…”  She lowered into a curtsy until he called her to look him in the eye. 

He must suspect something was going on; he was too clever not to. Her mind quickly cataloged every scenario she could imagine he contemplated. That Nicole was an informant for a rival House. That she was using her friendship with Kymira to gain his attention. That she was keeping tabs on the Taravins for the queen. Any number of plausible situations from the most clandestine all the way to the most obvious: that she was working hard to gain enough credibility that a high Lord like Leodon Taravin might entertain the idea of marrying an obscurity like Nicole. There was no way he would suspect the truth.  It was far too outlandish not after the White Tower held a memorial for the deceased Keeper. Not after the Amyrlin Seat named Adrasteia her successor.  Nor when the Taravins financial accounts ceased depositing Corele's monthly share into a Tar Valon bank. She forced herself to look upon the statue and the shawl cradled in her arms.  Despite it being based off a portrait that hung in the White Tower, Corele was not the marble Aes Sedai drizzled in torchlight; and if Corele was not Aes Sedai, then it would be impossible if Nicole were. Her identity was secure. It had to be.

Yet for all her instinct, she couldn’t deflect the lure when he came near, captured her hand in his, and held the ring up between them. "Wealth and intelligence?" He alluded to his earlier comparison against a man that didn’t exist.  He still thought the ring was hers.  She could breathe a sigh of relief for Kymira then, but of course that meant she would be caught in the child's intrigue in her place. 

Studying her red rimmed eyes, "You're upset,” he said, his thumb rubbing her palm.  His hands were smooth and unworked, a Lord’s hands. She could see the outline of her own House Crest in the signet on his finger.  It was the only twinkle of jewelry on him. He wore a fine velvet coat over a handsome waistcoat beneath, but none of it was obscene or flashy. He was a Lord who knew exactly who he was without having to display it.

“Tell me why. It's okay.”  His reassurance was soothing, that he would take care of her, but did nothing to loosen her tongue. Leodon may be enchanting, but that's exactly why she didn't trust him. Specifically, it’s why she didn't trust herself with him. Thankfully, he broke his resolve before she did. The low light flickered on the planes of his face while he thoughtfully glanced around. What he saw besides their ancestors' memorials was beyond her imagination. Clearly though, he was unfazed by the childish notions that'd fearfully taken his little sister.

The reprieve did not last long.  Since she remained quiet, he came closer, intentions clear. The presence of his cologne swirled her head with confusion again. Lennox always maintained his distance. Her warder held her when she was hurt. He stayed near on those nights she couldn’t sleep. Yet he had been a gentleman without her having to ask him to. It's impossible.. He can't be alive... but the thought sizzled to a distant, cool memory whereas Leodon was right then overwhelming her with warm-blooded charisma. 

"Does he take your hand and...?" Question softly posed, he did just that, deftly capturing her arm. He turned her wrist and placed it gently against his lips. Her skin pebbled, and she found her finger lightly stroking his cheek. A warm look appeared behind her hand.  One that tensed her with worry. She started to withdraw her arm, but he held her wrist secure. Then he took a slow step forward only to smile ruefully when she fell one step back.  Followed by another and another until there was nowhere left to go. Her skirt flattened against the wall. "Does he put you to the wall...?” he asked, leaning his weight upon her.  Shivers clenched her spine. Her skin pebbled and body warmed.  Suddenly the corset was too binding and she struggled to breathe. 

Your brother’s grandchild four times over…  She interrupted sharply, expression unconvincingly stern. 

"My Lord, don't.  Believe me,” she sounded as though she was convincing herself more than him, the plea straining her own immaculate accent she did not have the willpower to suppress, "this is not right.”

"I can give you pearls too, you know."  His own tenor was flawless, the perfect resonance of sounds to cross a man’s lips, a highborn Andoran. She trembled when he brushed the hair from her neck because when he leaned in to whisper temptations in her ear she doubted her resolve to resist them.  She tried, anyway.  Face drawn, she pulled away yet again. 

He briefly looked confused, slighted again with refusal, followed by looking boyishly offended, and her heart sank. He was so young. A man to everyone else, but a child to her relatively ancient eyes. Yet doubt crept in. Nicole ought to melt in his arms, not constantly pull away.  What he said next stopped her in her tracks. “You'll accept my father but refuse me? He must be three times your age."  And the floor dropped from under her.  So that’s what he was thinking. At least his jealousy made a sort of sense now. For all Corele’s mastery in the Great Game, she never dallied with the game of the heart. No wonder she didn’t anticipate this outcome, but his assumption made a sick sort of sense as she put a hand to her stomach.  The ring very well may have come from the High Seat. Lord Leopold had the means for it and the scandalous reputation to justify such a gift to any mistress, let alone someone like her. 

Theirs wasn't so different from any other High Seat, but House Taravin wore their honor proudly. Such was the reason they did not abandon illegitimate children to shame and poverty.  Amid the hurricane of rumors surrounding House Winther, it was said a servant in the House of Taravin, a scullery maid named Nessie Oaktura, circled the halls of court with rumors. She'd saved a man's life and nobody but a high ranking member of the Taravins would recognize her surname as code for a bastard playing on their House crest: the Oak and Owl. Who knew how many bastard children the current High Seat sired? In the back of her mind she always worried that someone might think her to be one such bastard. She had the coloring and the age to be one, and her sudden elevation from country girl to courtly wanderer might be explained by the High Seat pulling a favor with the Queen. How many half-bloods will Leodon inherit responsibility for someday? How he must resent his father. But never in her wildest dreams would she have thought Leodon to assume her to be his father’s mistress. It was this bloody ring.

She took deep breaths, glancing at the statue of herself and weighing her options. Either she continued to let Leodon think she was such a mistress, which could make for some awkward confrontations at court in the future, or tell Leodon the truth, that Kymira stole the ring left at this memorial and she was acting to protect the child from punishment. However, Kymira alluded to having found more than just this ring, and whatever else there was, Corele could envision the child refusing to share it if she were betrayed. 

Think clearly.  She glanced at the ring so perfectly encircling her finger. She realized she'd put the pearl on the same finger as where the serpent ring once rested.  There was no proof beyond a coincidental inscription in the band. Kymira might still be lying about how it came to her possession, though she really did not believe that to be the case. Lennox was dead, and a man does not simply become a channeler overnight. Lythia would have known if her lost warder was a living, breathing servant of the Black Tower. The Green was too intimately connected to the main field of powerful players to not know such a thing. Corele meanwhile had nothing but the shortened mortal life looming ahead of her. A greater sphere of influence as Leodon's consort could aid her cause – those fierce, hawk-like eyes were patient now, giving her time to reach a decision – she steadied herself, probing at that selfish spike to her desire. With her help, Leodon could rediscover the lost mines of Manaetheren, the very place that Lythia imprisoned Arikan for all those months. She nodded at that idea, the harmony of a future springtime breaking the timbre of current winter's prospects. They'd never marry, but Corele could accept that sacrifice if it meant her House, and by extension, Andor, prospered. 

She was breathing deeply, but controlled, despite the nerves. She couldn’t believe what she was about to say, yet on the other hand, she was excited. She’d never even kissed a man in all her life, and when she turned to him, all she saw was confident expectation. She was nervous, but neither could she afford to take things slow. If Nicole was Leopold’s former mistress, she would be experienced. Corele was completely the opposite. However in the world was she going to fake that? "Alright,” the whisper hung on the air, both ominous and exciting to actually say out loud.

She couldn't believe her own choice, stomach twisting upon itself, but the magnetic Leodon Taravin wasn't the first surprising selection of her life. Only this time, she had nothing to lose. He smiled victoriously then took her in his arms, and she shuddered when his lips found hers.

[Colette Moreau]

Nessie Oaktura

Nessie pulled up the hood of her cloak, grappled her scarf across her nose, and yanked open the back door. When she fell outside all the fuzzy scarves in the world couldn't block the wind that stung at her cheeks.

"Nessie!  Shut the door, child!" A voice from inside yelled, she gasped, "Sorry mum!" and hurriedly sealed herself outside. It was dark, but a wintery sort of darkness that came with early evening. Her legs were exhausted from running around like a chicken with its head cut off since dawn, and she still had the long walk to get home. 

"I guess it isn't liable to get any warmer!" She told herself and hurried away from the servants’ entrance.

A few minutes later she landed on the sidewalks of the New City. Little Nessie was just another face in the crowd, or actually, another pair of eyeballs peering out between her low-pulled hood and a warm fuzzy scarf. The edge of her uniform peeked out with every step, and she was grateful for the new socks her sister had given her. So far, her toes were toasty warm little piggies down in her boots.  Then as someone bumped into her, "Oh no!  I'm so sorry!"  she called after the man, but he didn't seem to have heard her, so she sighed and remembered it was a long way home.

She kept her head down, scurrying away from the street the Taravin's magnificent mansion occupied, and barely managed to squeeze between all the shoulders flowing people along like logs down a river. Until she came right up onto an enormous shadow. He stepped out of no where, looming in front of her like a brick wall, and she stopped dead in her tracks, peering the long, long way up to his face. 

He wore a heavy, ankle-length overcoat. Beneath was tidy, but loose clothes.  A soft scarf was knotted up at his neck, and his hands reached out to her with dark leather gloves.  Nessie's voice stuck to her throat, but she managed to squeak a question: "Ummm, Can I ... help .. you.. sir?"

But instead of reaching out and grasping her by the collar, the man turned aside and she realized he was gesturing to a carriage waiting on the nearby street. The curtains were pulled and she had no way of knowing if anyone important was inside, but then again, carriages always carried important people. Two sleek horses were hitched to the front, and a second man in similar coat and clothes as the first occupied the drivers seat. "You are Nessie Oaktura, yes?" He asked, and Nessie nodded, otherwise speechless. Then a flash of coin caught her eye.  "Someone wants a moment of your time.  I suggest you give it." 

She bit her lip, and glanced at the mark in the man's palm.  A minute later she was a bit richer and climbing into the fanciest carriage she'd never seen the inside of before. 

She hadn't the chance to nestle her backside into the cushion before the door slammed shut, and she realized she wasn't alone. 

The scarf fell from her face, revealing a huge gasp freezing her mouth into a big circle.  "It's you!" Then, squeaking, she slapped her hands to her mouth.  "Oh I mean, I am so sorry milady!  Its just that I, umm, I ... Umm.. Oh no.."

There weren't a lot of Ladies that little Nessie recognized.  How could there be?  She was a simple scullery girl! She never came across Ladies. Not since the day all those weeks ago that the Head Maid took her to meet the High Seat and his Lady Wife... and that Asha Man.  She still shivered every time she pictured those cold eyes looking down into hers. 

This one was seated with her hands folded in her lap. The red and white ballgown of the palace was unmistakeable, even for someone like Nessie. It matched the same designs as the flags on the Outer Wall. Her hair tumbled in big perfect loops across a collar of fur. The angle of her cheeks caught the little lamplight, and the lady looked like a statue frozen in serenity for all time. A heavenly scent filled the air, a perfume of flowers and fruit that Nessie had never smelled before. She pulled her cloak together as though hoping the stink of the scullery could be smothered so easily.

Nessie licked her lips and looked at the coin in her palm. "Milady I swear on my life I know nothing about nothing!" She absolutely forgot about seeing this elegant lady slipping in side doors at night - doors usually reserved for servants, or men in dark coats carrying messages, or other people far too important for Nessie to notice.  "I swear on my life!  I am a good and faithful servant of his lordship." She definitely never participated in lowly gossips. She was raised better than to listen to things that were none of her concern.

The lady cut her off. "It's alright child. You may relax I only have a few questions for you. My name is Nicole.” She looked like she could read Nessie's mind, so she nodded just as the carriage lurched forward.

"After that dreadful accident, Lord and Lady Taravin called upon you personally didn't they?" 

Her lady's eyes caught her attention, captured, and she felt like a mouse under the sights of a falcon.  "Yes milady."

A follow up question immediately clipped, "Someone questioned you didn't he?" Nessie nodded, wringing her hands out on her coat. How did this lady know all that had happened? ”Yes, ma’am.  Mistress Rosenfeld told me he was one of the men of the ... Black Tower." She whispered the name, as though it were a secret she shouldn't say out loud.  Lady Nicole sat forward slightly. "Yes, child?  Did he introduce himself?”

Nessie nodded curiously. “Yes, milady, he did."

[Colette Moreau]

"Nicole Candraed"

The pigeonry flew out this morning, so, today her letter should arrive at the Black Tower. It was addressed to him, there was no getting around that. Lennox Orander.  Corele had to close her eyes just to close the image of him from her mind. If she lingered on everything that had happened, the ring and note Kymira found, and Nessie's admission of an Asha'man wielding that name, these things would overwhelm her.  He couldn't be alive.  It would be impossible. 

But Light save her, what if he was? 

There was little else she could do but wait. The note was away, and if a man bearing her warder's name was in the Black Tower, it would eventually find him.  She had to be patient. 

She was presently in a reception room in the palace. A large fireplace gleamed firelight along wooden floors. The ceiling was painted with rich murals and fine woodwork ran along the length of the walls. She stood sentry with another of the Queen's ladies like a pair of guards on the periphery. They were the final say between those waiting to be called within like a bridge petitioners were forced to cross. Nicole passed an easing smile to the girl next to her, a gaunt thing of seventeen, who looked underfed despite how much she ate. It was only her second week serving the Queen given that the former Lady in Waiting was recently married, and she still glanced around the room like a wide-eyed child whose breath was stolen away every other minute.

Corele was aware she didn't look much older, but there was a vibrancy to her color that was not there before, and her smiles seemed slightly less haunted by regret. She was aware of the passing of her pain, not gone, but eased a little. The suffering was more a rainstorm on the windows rather than the terror of a thrashing thunder. She caught herself watching the reason then. He was across the room with his father and captain of their House armies. All three men were formally attired, with the captain in full regalia, waiting for word when their audience with the Queen would begin. She was comforted even from across the room just knowing he was near. 

Then something drew the gaze of all the men, and her Lady in Waiting companion gasped. She glanced behind to realize why. Faodella Sedai was a Green, and a right haughty one at that. Corele immediately recognized that sincerely cheerful face and sarcastic glare to her blue eyes. Her cold blonde hair was decorated lavishly. However a Green managed it was beyond Corele’s understanding. As Keeper she required a servant to aid her formal hairstyles, and they were nothing as elaborate as Faodella’s braids and baubles. Behind the Green’s honey smile dripped disapproval at everything she saw. She, along with her two warders, entered and made to proceed onward as though she had every right to interrupt the Queen.

Corele quickly whispered to her fellow Lady, "Quickly Jespa, inform her majesty Faodella Sedai is here." Another Green, and that made them Ajah sisters, the Queen would want to know about her arrival immediately. Though it was beyond both Ladies in Waiting to know whether the green was expected. It was their job to see proprieties observed, and announcing an Aes Sedai counted as the proper thing to do. Certainly Corele was not about to leave that fidgety girl alone with this Sister. Faodella would eat her for lunch. 

Jespa nodded gratefully, and slipped from the room. 

If she recollected accurately, and she was sure she did, the Queen should outrank Faodella in the White Tower's hierarchy, both in strength and deeds, but Jespa quickly brought back word that the Queen would see to Faodella that very moment. Either she was expected, or the Green was swarming into matters she assumed were some of her business.  How the Queen tolerated such impertinence, Corele was left to wonder if an Ajah secret played a role in their manners. It certainly would not be acceptable among the Blues. Or is something else at play here?  She ached to watch the Sisters' mannerisms. Yet all she could glimpse while respectfully averting her eyes floorward was the saccadic movements of Faodella's two warders. Shadows few in their company seemed to appreciate were truly there, but they were more dangerous than even the Taravin’s captain of the guard.

She was content to let Faodella pass by when she felt a finger lift her chin. Her eyes followed, and met Faodella's straight on. A slight twinge caught her stomach, though.  Was she recognized? 

That ageless face contorted into a tsk, tsk.  "Your name, child." 

Corele's answer came smoothly.  "Nicole Candraed, Aes Sedai." The Sister studied Nicole's face, but she did not peer into the depths of her eyes, only swam across the surface of her skin.  She hated to curtsy before Faodella, but curtsy she did and only as little as she could get away with.

"How did you come by such a scar, child?"  She withdrew her hand, and Corele wondered if a hint of true concern was in her voice.  To everyone else, however Faodella seemed absolutely emotionless.  She was relieved that no glimmer of recognition flashed her bright blue eyes, but Corele wondered if she would ever truly be comfortable enough to lower her guard completely.  No. I look too different.

"A fire, Aes Sedai. Not several years ago.”  She heard a few rustlings of movement around her and she briefly glanced at Leodon.  He was listening, arms at his side, polite but tuned to what she might say next.  The Aes Sedai, however, was not satisfied.  "A fire that touched only the upper half of your face?  And what a shame too, for such a lovely face."

Nicole held the Aes Sedai’s gaze even for the compliment, "Yes, Aes Sedai. I was stoking the logs beneath a large kettle at the hearth in my family's home.  The bracers came away from the wall and the kettle fell.  It  sprayed hot coal. The Wisdom wrapped my hands with bandages soaked with ointment, but the ointment seeped into my eyes and I could not stand the pain of it.”

As though uncomfortable by the attention, Corele smoothed the skirts of her Lady’s gown. It of course drew the Aes Sedai's attentions to her hands.  Hands which were uninjured and smooth, and also bearing the silver ring on her finger. It was a movement she wanted the Aes Sedai to notice. Playing to the game, Faodella gently took that hand into her own, and pat it sympathetically. 

"That is an unfortunate story.”  She started, but it was a ruse to examine the exquisite piece of jewelry.  “My Sister was kindhearted to take you into her service. Hopefully you will," Corele felt the Aes Sedai's fingers linger on the ring before she released her hand, "continue to fare well." 

"Thank you Aes Sedai.”  She curtsied then lingered, expression tight, upon the Aes Sedai's back as she left. Faodella referenced the extraordinary feat that a powerless figure had drawn someone's attention - with all the thanks going to the Queen’s charity rather than her own prowess of course. That kind of oversight was exactly what she was going for with living out life as a minor noble, but it irritated her to have to play it in front of Faodella. If that one knew how many bones Corele was aware were piled up in her closet, she'd not dare tempt her to unearth them.

Soon after the Lords Taravin and their captain were summoned into audience. The High Seat did not so much as glance at her, but Leodon was watching, as perfect as ever. His wide eyes were amused, a hawk circling lazily above the field, trying to decide which mouse would be his supper. Or one that he'd found but was unsure if it were more interesting to watch from afar or swoop in for a closer look. Corele felt her ire over Faodella diminish, and she looked away before anyone realized there was something more than the common girl's infatuation for someone out of her reach.

Her resolve was only so strong, however.  When the High Seat and Captain passed by, Leodon lingered a brief moment to steal a few seconds to speak with her, and she found herself questioning why she was so determined to push him away this last year. 

"You truly are fearless," he complimented, but she did not know what he meant. He dipped his head as though to lean close to speak quietly in her ear. He was wearing a cologne today she didn't recognize, and a royal blue coat that made the color of his eyes capture her. This was a man capable of making any woman worship him. "Did you know that Lady Jespa was trembling while you handled the Aes Sedai like an equal. Then the glare when she turned her back. She deserved worse, I'll admit, for taunting you. The vile woman."  His lips thinned as he took the offense for the slight against Nicole's honor, glancing at the Aes Sedai now out of earshot.  She didn't fault him for not coming to her defense.  In fact, she had forgotten what that felt like.  To be defended.  "You are a mystery, Nicole." 

If he only knew... "You should be careful, My Lord.  Aes Sedai have ways of hearing things we cannot.”  He had, however, made sure that the Aes Sedai saw him come to her. 

"The One Power, yes. I imagine so,” he mused. Then as though on cue, the Sister glanced their way. Nicole rightly averted her eyes, but not before catching Faodella's lingering study.  It was simple curiosity, and Corele could practically feel the Sister cataloguing what she witnessed for future reference: the heir of a Great House whispering in the ear of a lovely nobody.  Then there was all that strange attention. She suspected something; though Corele was confident she did not entertain the truth among her conjectures. Nicole would be a an easy pawn for White Tower schemes, and if she had the ear of House Taravin's heir she might also have the ear of other powers.  At least, that was how Corele would have used her, but Faodella was a Green. Still, Corele would be mindful of their Ajah hovering in the days to come.

After the comment about Elayne's charity case, the Aes Sedai would have witnessed blank-faced as Lord Leodon Taravin gently kissed her hand and strolled onward, joining his father.  Moments later the doors closed of the audience chamber closed, and Corele resumed her duties, slightly out of ease, though she refused to think about why.