Huge thanks to Todger65 for editing around his vacation schedule for me! Your work is greatly appreciated!
*****
The jester's motley was wildly different from Andnaeuth's, the knee length diamond patterned tunic in every color but white would have been garish if the colors hadn't been as dark as they were and slightly faded. His face was powdered making his peculiar silvery brown eyes stand out and his hair was entirely hidden beneath his cap of bells.
Isonei was beaming at the man as his caper of entrance turned into a low curtsy in front of her. "How can you not like jesters, my flower wine? Aren't you happier just for having him in the room?"
The Torgan grunted, pulling her arm tighter against him.
"Please stand, dear jester." She smiled at him warmly as he rose and clasped his hands holding them to his heart, fluttering his lashes and gazing at her like a man in love. "Do you speak Aran?"
"Very a little, her Grace." From the mischievous look in his eyes she thought he might be teasing or exaggerating his lack of skill.
She spoke slowly and clearly nonetheless. "If you can follow certain rules, I will be permitted to enjoy your presence at tonight's entertainments. If you don't think you can follow them, I won't be offended if you make your excuses and go your merry way. Though I hope you'll choose to try. I'd hate for you to have donned your bells for nothing."
He grinned and curtsied again. "Yes."
"His Highness' rules are that you do not mock him or any of our guests and," Isonei gave an exaggerated sigh and put on an expression of profound disappointment, "I can't dance with you. I will be staying on his arm."
The jester's expression changed in an instant to one of heartbreak, clutching at his heart as he fell back and to the side, catching himself cleverly and rolling himself up in blur of motion without ever hitting the floor with his body. He beamed at her delighted laughter. "Yes, her Grace."
"Your Grace." Krouth coolly corrected him.
With a wide mischievous grin he straightened his bell cap as if the Torgan servant had been addressing him. "My Grace? I do not so pretty but..." He shrugged and spun as if he intended to take Draeseth's other arm. The Torgan lifted it out of reach with a scowl.
Giggling madly, Isonei barely managed to squeeze words out, "I think if we traded clothes you might be prettier but how could you bear to part with such lovely bells?"
"Duchess of frolics!" He laughed, capering to and around Krouth speaking playfully in Torgan.
"What is he saying?" She tugged at Draeseth's arm looking up at him with amusement.
Sourly he translated, "That if we sewed bells on your clothes it might keep you out of trouble. It was what his mother did for him."
"What a clever woman! She knew where you were and had you learning a trade at the same time!"
As he was opening his mouth to retort, Draeseth silenced the jester with a raise of his hand. "I would prefer it if the jester did not speak at all. I do not wish to be a part of the jests."
Isonei's smile faltered and the jester clapped his hands loudly over his heart before pulling them down as if opening his chest. Miming his heart flying out of his chest he cast it toward her with a warm smile, opening his hands. He glanced up at the Torgan next to her widening his eyes and dropping his smile with exaggerated nervousness. Clasping his hands again into the bird like gesture and performing the same movements backwards, he patted the place over his heart with a hopeful look of 'no harm done' as he finished.
"How can you find such antics appealing, my Duchess?" The Torgan Prince gestured to the door brusquely.
"How can you not? They've delighted me since I was a child." The stabbing pain in her twisting guts made her realize it wasn't nervousness causing her discomfort.
It brought up the memory of Ialath's mother being ill after one of her parties and insisting that the party should never be stopped for something so small when Lord Eliorith had chided her. People travel for such things and the preparations shouldn't go to waste. It hadn't stopped her father from chiding but it had made perfect sense to Isonei. She wasn't feverish; waiting to be ill in private wouldn't hurt anything.
The jester preceded them out to the open hall and began to strut and caper drawing incredulous looks. Draeseth spoke briefly to someone who approached him with a frown and the man gave Isonei a sharp look.
"I see you aren't the only one who disapproves of jesters." Her disappointment made enduring the unpleasant feelings in her belly more difficult.
"You are fond of them because of Andnaeuth?" His arm was hard under hers and he didn't look at her as he asked.
"No, I'm fond of Andnaeuth because he's a jester. I would have avoided him if he were only a Prince." Watching the jester laugh and dance away from one of the guests who was swatting at him in annoyance put a small smile on her face.
"You did not avoid me."
"If you had introduced yourself as Prince Draeseth the night we met I might not have stayed. 'The bastard, the bitter, the black,' was interesting not intimidating."
"The way you treated me, not knowing who I was, pleased me. I did not want you to become... I did not want you to want me for my station."
"I might have walked away from you for it, not clung to you."
"Modesty gave me my happiness." He laid his hand on top of hers watching as the jester began to juggle empty glasses deftly. "Even when we quarrel you are my happiness."
"We've quarreled?"
Draeseth made a pleased sound in his throat. "I quarreled; you were gentle and patient as always." He paused, "The jester is amusing, but how a man can have no pride baffles me."
"He is proud. It takes a great deal of skill to move the way he does. You like your flower wine because it is less appreciated, think of the jester that way."
After a moment he answered, "He could be a fighter as nimble as he is, or if he turned his wit to ambition he could go far."
"He's like me, my flower wine. He isn't interested in fighting, and he isn't ambitious. If I were a man I might have been a jester." She glanced up to see him smiling wryly and still watching the juggling.
"Your father would have scolded you, but you would be a sought after addition to any Court."
"Thank you." Isonei squeezed his arm, partly as a reward for his words and partly hoping he would look down.
The pain and unpleasantness in her belly was getting worse and she was almost certain he would see the discomfort on her face if he looked down despite the fact she was trying to hide it from their guests. He didn't. She turned her attention back to the jester; at least she didn't have to worry about Draeseth's displeasure for the moment.
Watching the jester became more and more difficult as her insides seemed to turn into knives, every time they twisted sweat dampened her brow and she had to try not to whimper. Isonei closed her eyes for a moment and heard the sound of glass breaking and a worried voice asking something in Torgan. She was struggling to open them as Draeseth shook her and grabbed her by the face.
"Isonei, my Duchess?"
"I-I don't..." Her guts twisted and it became impossible to speak.
Draeseth swept her off of her feet barking orders in Torgan. Being bent and cradled hurt so badly she began to retch.
°°°°°°°°°°
Krouth spent two days taking care of her as her insides tried desperately to make an escape. Lislora occasionally relieved him but she mostly sat by the bed and read aloud from a book in Torgan and tried to comfort her without having to touch her. Isonei felt grateful to them both.
Draeseth didn't come until the afternoon of the third day when Krouth had made certain she could keep down the Mezi and vegetable broth. She expected to be chided for not telling him she was feeling ill, Krouth had scolded her when she told him. Looking at him apologetically he surprised her by climbing into bed with her and holding her tightly.
"Krouth said he chided you."
"Yes. I should have let one of you know I was feeling ill. I just-"
"Did not wish to ruin the evening for our guests. He told me." The Torgan kissed her head as she curled into him. "I thought you had been poisoned."
"Who would do such a thing?" Isonei lifted her head looking at him and feeling baffled.
"No one who wishes to continue drawing breath, my Duchess." He kissed her forehead. "Lislora had to keep me from beating the cooks within an inch of their lives when I learned what happened."
"What did happen?" She let him pull her head against his chest and pin it in place under his chin.
"Your food was cooked in the same pans as the swine. It improved the flavor and they did not believe you would have any ill effects. It was the jester who asked if you had been fed any of it. He had seen someone give an Aran unclean meat as a jest, it made them ill as it did you."
Isonei shuddered. "Do they hate me so much?"
"No, my fragile wife. They could not understand your revulsion. There did not seem to be a reason to use fresh pans with all they had to prepare."
"Respect for my needs is not a reason in their eyes?"
"It is now. You will not be served anything that has touched swine or hare. It will not be brought into our kitchens." Squeezing her, he exhaled as if he'd been holding his breath. "My brothers have returned to my father with word of your delicate health. I do not expect to be pressed to bring you until Ailzem."
"What is Ailzem? I meant to ask you."
"The wet month. The end of winter. It begins very close to the end of your month of Sicna this year and will end near the end of Maeralya."
