Amika and Samaren at an unfortunate garden party (post-GotBL)

[guardiansverse]

The heat had turned from pillowing to oppressive, or possibly it was the sweat drying on her skin. Amika sat back and flicked her finely crafted silk fan a little more vigorously than that silk was quite designed for. From the garden below the porch, the waltzes of the midsummer festival droned cheerfully on.

It might have been a radiant night. The sky was a dome of deep blue crystal, the air the painted perfume of a thousand flowers, and the setting, refreshments, and entertainment all worthy of a gathering of all Hyem's great and good. Gräfin Sternbloem - the new Gräfin Sternbloem, not quite yet grown into her mother-in-law's light touch - had spared no expense in making her garden ball fit for the attention of the Land's Own Guardian. And Amika had been attentive all evening, in her high formal whites and very fine shoes that were not very fond of gardens. Sampling every new dish, giving out summer blessings, standing graciously on the edge of the dance floor and smiling at the pleasure forbidden to her by the soaring heights of her rank. Now her lips were sore and her legs were restless, and she was too full and too hot.

The clock struck eleven. It might have been a radiant night, but instead it was going to be a long one.

A shadow fell over her from behind, a figure backlit by the light inside the manor. She did not move, only said, "hello, Captain."

Samaren dropped into the chair next to her, making it creak in alarm. He wiped an arm over his face, trailed his fingers through his sweat-damped hair. He looked very fetching in his dress uniform, she thought; a shame that it was high summer. "Are you enjoying our hostess's efforts?"

He snorted. "About as well as you are, doma."

"That is unkind. I am only resting my legs." She stretched out the legs in question. He would have no opinion of the state of her grass-stained shoes. "Not even the food? The dancing?"

"The food might be fine for you Westerners, but can't compare to Eastern holiday fare." Conversely his opinion on this point was sharp and resolute. "The dancing was a pleasure while Gräfin Sternbloem let me pair with anyone else."

Amika hummed in her throat. "I thought Gräfin Sternbloem was a noted dancer."

"I don't know who did the noting. She clings like a bear trap and keeps using her maybe three words of Ilyigan as though that would make me fall starstruck into her bed. And her garland makes me sneeze."

"The pains you take for the state."

"I deserve a medal."

Amika tried to picture it. The hum turned to an undignified sound.

The clock rank fifteen minutes past eleven. In the thick night heat, time seemed syrupy, each second pouring out very slow. It would be hours before the party was anywhere near conclusion. And first there would be dessert.

She sighed. "The things I would do for..."

"For?" he leaned forward in his seat, attentive.

Unable to go quite so far as to voice the thought, Amika gestured vaguely out at the gardens, the party. She was not herself sure how she had managed to convey so much resentment in one movement of her arm. But between Samaren and herself such things happened. Then she sat back, helpless to do more.

Samaren followed the gesture, mouth pursed and brows faintly raised in thought. He also leaned back again, titled his head against the back cushion, skyward.

A whisper of chill brushed against Amika's cheek. A cool wind, very faint, then rising. She looked up. The clear sky was thickening, blooming with clouds as that growing wind puffed and piled them. She could hear cries of dismay from the dancers, rushing and clattering as servants hurried to bring in ornate dishes and fold away delicate canopies before the rain came pouring down. The guests followed suit, in something of spreading alarm over equally ornate and delicate summer clothes.

"Oh," she said neutrally. "A summer storm. How unfortunate."

She looked back at Samaren. His expression was serene while power rippled around him. She did not think he intended to go inside and spare his uniform.

The first raindrops that landed on her face were cold and fresh. She shut her eyes, crossed her legs, and sat back to listen to the party coming to an end.