Fantasyland: Midnight Soul Part 21

Valentine took in a delicate, displeased breath.

For years, she cared about very little. In fact, nothing.

But herself.

Then came her little G.o.ddess of love, Seoafin, Finnie.

Now, caring seemed to be all she did.

And not just about herself.

In fact, all the troubles were sorted in that other world, but was she quit of it?

No.

She was not only not quit of it, she was home in New Orleans and still checking in frequently to see how things progressed with not only Franka and Noctorno, but Seoafin and Frey, Circe and Lahn...

All of them.

This going so far as to wake her in the night so she'd seek her crystal just to make certain all was well.

She cared, there was no denying it.

This didn't mean she didn't lament doing just that.

Valentine studied the smoke, sighed and watched Noc laughing and Franka glowering as they sat together in Franka's chamber.

It was no surprise he'd made little headway. Not only Franka's history would inhibit things moving forward, she'd lost a lover in a dramatically sad way.

There were many wounds Franka Drakkar needed healed but only some of them Noc could a.s.sist in this effort.

The loss of her lover she'd have to come to terms with on her own.

Suddenly, Valentine tipped her head to the side as she felt it. Within seconds, the room turned green. Not Valentine's green, which shaded emerald to jade. No, Lavinia's green. The green of Lavinia's G.o.ddess of the other world, Alabasta, which was the color of a fertile meadow.

Every witch with any amount of power had their own color.

It represented their soul.

Thus Lavinia's was fresh and nurturing.

And Valentine's was rich and precious.

Valentine directed her eyes to the vortex forming and watched Lavinia appear.

"My friend," Lavinia greeted when her feet were planted on Valentine's priceless Persian rug.

"It's late," Valentine replied.

Lavinia, accustomed to Valentine, took no offense at her reply and smiled but looked to the sphere on the table.

Her eyes moved back to Valentine.

"The knight of your world is making progress," she noted.

Valentine swept a hand to her crystal ball.

"This, I've noticed," she drawled.

Lavinia nodded. "What you may not have noticed is that her mother's magic was revealed, but Franka's was not. We both felt the swell of it that terrible night some days ago, but she has not come forward as a witch. No one else is aware of it, save perhaps Noctorno. This concerns me."

"She's coping with a good deal, Lavinia, perhaps you'll give her more than a few days," Valentine suggested.

"It's my duty to my country to share that I hold this knowledge, my friend," Lavinia replied.

Valentine sighed a delicate, displeased sigh.

"It would be nice if you would come," Lavinia urged. "I do think she's of your..." her friend's lips tipped up, "kind, and you will speak well together." Her voice dipped quieter. "In times such as these, she may need something just as that."

"I'll return," Valentine replied.

Lavinia nodded. She knew if Valentine said she would be there, she would be there.

Unfortunately, Lavinia knew Valentine would be there because she cared.

"You came to my world just for this?" Valentine asked.

Lavinia looked through the dark room but shook her head doing it, stating, "I was curious."

"Do be curious at another time," she invited. "When it's not the dead of night and I don't have a lovely body, not mine, obviously, currently warming my bed."

Lavinia eyed Valentine. "Now I see why you returned home."

Valentine shook her head. "You see nothing. He's just a body. A trifle. A useful one, but only that."

Lavinia eyed her far more closely. "No one is just a body, Valentine."

"He is," Valentine sniffed.

"Have you had another who meant more?" Lavinia asked.

"Ah," Valentine breathed out. "I see you've come in the middle of the night not only because you were curious, but to discuss my love life, which means you're not simply curious. You're nosy."

"It's morn in my world," Lavinia reminded her.

"I do know that, cherie," Valentine sighed.

"I know you know. I also know you didn't answer my question," Lavinia pressed.

"When the time comes, I'll choose a man to make me round with a daughter. But even then he'll just be a body, though he'll also be his seed, so rest a.s.sured, I'll select him with great care."

"That's wretched," Lavinia said gently.

Valentine lifted her brows in surprise. "You wish to be tangled up in a relations.h.i.+p?"

"I've lived a life where I was quite content with my own company. But I must say, watching Finnie and Frey, Maddie and Apollo..."

"That was about magic. And destiny," Valentine eschewed.

"All love has its own magic," Lavinia returned, her eyes sliding toward the door, her words the truth, of course, with caveats. "Even love that doesn't span universes."

"It also can be used for ill, if turned into a weapon," Valentine retorted. "And this happens often, in both worlds."

Lavinia returned her gaze to her friend.

"Quite right, my dear," she whispered. "Odd, we seem to have this conversation often. With varying results. This suggests love is foremost on our minds most of the time. Including yours."

Valentine didn't deign to reply.

"You must come soon," Lavinia urged, wisely changing the subject. "I've only visited with Franka once, and I didn't know her before, but from what I knew of her, she's much changed, though I think she's discomfited by it."

Valentine knew very well how that felt.

Lavinia spoke on. "Not to mention, when I'm with the others, they speak of her already not simply with compa.s.sion for what she's endured, but with humor and even growing affection."

This, Valentine had seen in her crystal, finding herself looking on...happily, doing so hoping it would continue.

"I'll be there," Valentine replied.

She then wondered when she started hoping about anything.

Caring and hoping.

How vile. Both were so very vulgar.

"Until we meet in my world," Lavinia called, and Valentine watched as she faded away.

With an agitated gesture, Valentine shook her sleek red hair out of her face and looked back to her crystal. She lifted a hand and trailed her fingers over it, searching, and she found someone she'd discovered some days ago when she'd decided that meddling with Franka and Noc would not be enough.

There was another.

And as she watched the large man go about the business of sleeping in his own bed, her jaw set and she trailed her fingers over the crystal again.

The smoke vanished.

There she went, caring about someone else.

And worse, doing something about it.

Valentine Rousseau rarely expended effort on anything someone didn't compensate her for, except, of course, one of her trifles.

She definitely expended effort on her trifles.

Her thoughts moved to what she'd just seen in her crystal and she was pleased in this world, as in the other, he was such a fine specimen. A plaything such as him would be-Valentine drew in a wistful breath-delicious.

Alas, such as him, she had found, didn't tend to like the way Valentine played.

He would be perfect for his intended.

An intended he didn't know he had (yet). And that intended had no idea what Valentine had planned for her future.

A warm curl swirled in her belly.

Valentine sighed yet again as she shook off her uncharacteristically soft, romantic thoughts.

She was losing her touch.

She needed to find it again.

To do that, her thoughts moved to the young, naked, firm, male form asleep in her bed, and in the dark, Valentine smiled her cat's smile.

She walked back to her bedroom, went to the nightstand, opened it and took out a box of matches. She struck one and lit the three candles on the night table.

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 p.r.o.nounced 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 G.o.ds, were they all doing there?

No.

No.