Her fingers squeezed mine as she whispered, “I’m sorry for that for you, but I’m also glad to hear of it for that’s exactly how I feel.”
“Baldur is dead,” I reminded her, both necessarily and unnecessarily.
“I know this,” she replied.
“You have powerful allies, not only in this world, but in our old one.”
“I know this too.”
“I know you do,” I said. “And I know such abundance is hard to come to terms with when your life was so void of it before.” I tightened my hold on her and gave her a small smile. “I also know that you will come to terms with it. Alas, you need to go through these feelings you’re going through. But eventually it will either sink in or something extraordinary will happen to make you understand it to the depths of your soul.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Was it Noc that helped you understand that?”
I nodded. “Noc, indeed, most definitely. But also others. My brother. Valentine. Frey. But Noc was the catalyst for all that. He was dogged in making certain I saw myself for who I was, not who I was forced to be. And his efforts made me open to what the others were offering me. All of which showed me the me I was meant to be. And he was all that even before we became what we’ve become. He was that just simply being my friend.”
“He was in love with you from the beginning, you know.”
At this unexpected statement in the course of our discussion, I blinked as my body gave a start.
“He shared this with you?” I asked.
This time, she nodded, and it was then I noted that our time in that bathroom was no longer about me reassuring her. She was studying me closely, her mind intent on something that was not the arrival in two hours of Dax Lahn.
“He says when all that happened to you happened, he just happened to be the one who was there for you, and since he was in love with you, or on the path to just that, he was lucky that what grew of that was what you both have now.”
Although this delighted me, and troubled me, I dropped her hands and moved slightly away.
“With what you have with Noc, should you be sharing this with me?” I queried.
She shrugged one shoulder, her gaze still fixed on me. “Perhaps not, strictly speaking, as I’m his friend. But when I’ve not been making myself sick with nerves considering all that could go wrong tonight, I was thinking about his words, perplexed by them enough to find them disquieting. And they were disquieting enough I feel the need to share them.”
I understood her disquiet.
However, I did not feel comfortable discussing them with her.
Circe did not have the same discomfort.
“I shared that I understood very much what you might be feeling in finding a man like him in your life. He not only disputed it, he refused to discuss it.”
That was not troubling.
That was distressing.
“Are you aware he has these feelings?” she asked, and the tone of her voice made my attention sharpen on her.
Circe may have lived through much but she’d been sequestered, indeed actually imprisoned through most of it. She hadn’t lived in my world where, to survive, one had to become adept at interpreting every look, mannerism and intonation.
Thus she didn’t know she was not hiding from me that this conversation was not about Noc.
It was about understanding in her heart that I would see to Noc.
Thus I proceeded cautiously.
“I hope you understand that, with a man like Noc, not to mention your and my own relationship being new, that I’m feeling some discomfort discussing something with you I wouldn’t even discuss with Josette.”
Her look turned guarded when she replied, “Of course.”
“He’s mine,” I stated.
I saw her frame tighten.
I carried on.
“I’ll see to him.”
And I would.
And it would seem I needed to cease dillydallying and do just that.
She continued regarding me closely before her mouth softened and her eyes warmed.
“I’m glad.”
“Now,” I said crisply, making it clear we were finished with that subject, “are you to change now or wait for closer to when Dax arrives?”
“Now,” she answered. “If I wear this blouse, I need to redo my makeup because I’ve done it in bronzes and it needs to be pinks. That’ll take time.”
The blouse was a lovely shade of blush.
In other words, she was quite correct in that.
I began to move away, murmuring, “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Franka,” she called when I’d nearly made the door.
I turned back to her.
“I’m happy you’re happy,” she said. “And I’m happy you’re making him happy.”
I dipped my chin. “Allow me to return those sentiments with you and Dax.”
Her lips curved in a hopeful smile.
It wasn’t radiant, but as with any time hope made an appearance, it still had a magnificent gleam.
I returned it and walked out of the room, closing the door behind me.
“Am I released from my enforced role as fashion critic?” Valentine asked the moment the door clicked.
“Indeed,” I answered.
She didn’t hesitate to stroll out of the room.
I watched her contemplatively as she did this, wondering if there was aught to be done about her heartbreak.
After she’d disappeared from sight, Josette began speaking.
“Back home, when one of the other maids had her heart broken, the girls would request free evenings. We’d then take her to the local pub, pour ale into her and help her find someone to bed her in order to erase some of the pain and remind her that her prospects were not limited to just the one who foolishly didn’t take care of the gift he’d been given,” she noted.