#love and wine

Now that I’ve finished Ever After, I’m focussing most of my time and energy on my next big WIP - Domino Theory, the (chronologically) final instalment in the Love and Wine series, a murder-mystery story that will hopefully tie together all the plot threads and loose ends I’ve been weaving through the series so far. 

It’s going to be a big undertaking, and I’m determined to have as much written as possible before I start posting it (I don’t think my usual slap-dash, chaotic write-and-post-as-I-go technique is going to fly with this level of plot), so it will likely be a few months at least before I can start to share it - so in the meantime, here’s a snippet in which I’ve started to explore some of the backstory I am building for the Brossard family…

He lifts his head from his pillow as soon as he hears the door open. “Mama?”

“What are you doing still awake, hm?” comes the hushed reply.

“You promised to kiss me goodnight.”

“I did,” she agrees. “And here I am, just as I said.”

He wriggles over to make room for her on his bed. She’s all dressed up for the big party they’re having downstairs; he can hear the rustling of her silk gown, and he can just make out the glitter of gold and jewels at her ears and throat. 

“Can I have a story, too?”

“A story? Didn’t Becca tell you a story?”

“She did,” he concedes. “But her stories aren’t as good as your stories, Mama.”

She laughs. “How could I ever refuse you anything, my darling boy?” She climbs into the bed beside him and pulls him close, pressing a kiss into his curls. “What story shall I tell tonight?”

“Our story,” he says immediately.

“Again?” She shakes her head. “Very well…

“Once upon a time, there was a girl born to a noble house, one of th’ highest in the land. Her mother loved her dearly and kept her close, wishing to shield her from all the world. She was always grateful for her mother’s care and tenderness, but oh - it could be lonely sometimes. She spent her days reading and dreaming, of fairy-stories and bards tales, of the wonderful world that lay outside her family’s lands; wondering if someday a handsome prince might sweep her off her feet and carry her away to a life of romance and adventure that she had never known. It seemed like years and years she waited, hoping and longing, until the day finally came when she was to be presented to th’ king and his court. She was as terrified as she was excited, so nervous she could hardly sleep for weeks beforehand. What would they think of her? Would they be kind, would she find herself among friends? Or might she find herself shunned as an outcast? And would she perhaps finally meet the noble adventurer of her dreams?

Th’ day came, and she thought she might faint from fright - so many people, all staring and whispering! She began to wish she’d never come, that she had stayed at home with her books and her dreams. But then she saw a face in the crowd, someone who caught her eye with his beautiful smile, and suddenly she felt less alone, as though she had a friend in the midst of all these strangers. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He looked just like she’d imagined a noble knight from a ballad would, with eyes so kind she thought she might melt -“

“That was Papa, wasn’t it?” he interjects. He already knows the answer; he has long learnt every word of this story by heart.

“Yes, it was.” He can hear the smile in her voice. “How happy I was when he asked me to dance at my very first ball! I thought I might die of happiness. He told me so many wonderful tales of the places he’d been - Vizima, Oxenfurt, Novigrad -”

“I wish I could go to Novigrad,” he grumbles. “I never get to go anywhere.”

“One day, my darling boy, I promise you shall see Novigrad. But are you in such a hurry to grow up and leave home, and break your poor mama’s heart?”

“No!”

“I’m very glad to hear it. Now, are you too tired for the rest of the story?”

“I’m not too tired,” he says indignantly, though his eyelids are growing very heavy.

“Alright, then. Your father and I -”

“Tell it like it’s not you,” he commands sleepily. “It’s better.”

“Very well, my little prince. Where was I? Oh, yes. Th’ girl was delighted every time he sought her out for walks in the gardens, for a dance at the ball, to bestow her favour on him before a joust. And the day he asked her if she would be his wife, she thought she’d never been so happy in her entire life.

But their happiness was short-lived, for their families were opposed to the match. There were tears and arguments, threats of banishment and imprisonment, but th’ young lovers refused to give each other up. Her mother told her to be patient as she cried into her pillow night after night, that all would be well in the end - but she felt as though her heart was breaking; she did not know how she could live without him.

The girl and her love were forbidden to see one another, not allowed even to send each other letters or notes - but still her beloved found his way to her, promised her that they would find a way to be together. And when she told him there was a baby on the way, he promised they would be married as soon as possible, if it was the last thing he did.”

“That’s me!” he cries, delighted.

“It was.” She cuddles him closer. “Even before you were born, your parents loved you so very much. Your father convinced me to run away with him - I was terrified we’d be caught, but I loved him so much I knew it was th’ only way. And he was true to his word - he got us away safely and we were finally married th’ very next day…”

She pauses, and he knows she’s waiting to see if he’s asleep yet. He yawns. “And then?”

“And then we came home…eventually. It wasn’t easy, exactly, but in time, we were forgiven - and then my beautiful son was born and that was th’ happiest day of my life.”

He sighs contentedly. He hardly notices when she kisses his forehead one more time, then silently slips away to leave.

“Sweet dreams, Gascon,” she whispers. 

But he is already asleep. 

A short prequel to Blood is Thicker Than Wine, taking place a few weeks before the story begins: Meve and Reynard’s notorious argument…

—

“Will you stay?” she murmured sleepily to the man wrapped tightly in her arms.

He shook his head. “No, Meve. I can’t, not tonight, not with th’ guests from Skellige staying in th’ castle…I’d rather not have to creep all th’ way back to my rooms before dawn.”

She yawned, trying to hide her disappointment. It had been weeks since he’d last shared her bed. “You wouldn’t have to, if you’d just move into rooms closer to mine – as I keep saying. Then you wouldn’t have nearly so far to sneak back…though why you insist on slinking out of here like a child who’s been stealing sweets from th’ larder, I don’t know.” 

“You know I can’t. People –”

“– will talk, yes, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “Gods forbid, that anyone should ever talk about us.”

He sighed.

“Fine. Marry me, then.”

A deafening silence followed. Eventually, he choked out: “What?”

“Marry me. Then you can take th’ rooms next to mine, and there’ll be no need for sneaking around at all.”

He sat up and stared at her. “Meve. You know I can’t – th’ very idea –”

She folded her arms. “I don’t see why not. You don’t want people to gossip, well – let me make an honest man out of you, and then they’ll have no cause.”

“We’ve spoken about this before,” he began evenly, in that oh-so-very-patient tone that immediately made her scowl. “We agreed –”

“That was six years ago! And every time I’ve tried to raise th’ topic since, you’ve changed th’ subject.”

“Because there’s no point in discussing it further,” he retorted, an edge creeping into his voice. “Meve, what we share is undoubtedly the very best thing in my life, but we can’t let it make us foolish –”

“Foolish? Marrying me would be foolish, would it?”

“Don’t twist my words. You know very well what I mean – th’ difference in our status, for one –”

“I could grant you a new title any time I please; I wanted to, after th’ last war, but you would have none of it.”

“Because I don’t want one! I’m content as I am, I’ve no wish to beg favours from you, I don’t need –”

“You never ask anything of me. You’re too damn proud, Reynard Odo – proud to a fault, you won’t even accept that which you’ve earned half a dozen times over. Most times I admire you for it, but other times it’s absolutely infuriating.”

“Meve,” he sighed. “You know how much I love you. I would lay down my life for you in a heartbeat. But I simply cannot do this. I have thought about it, time and time again, and come to th’ conclusion –”

She pulled away from him. “You think too much. And you care too much what other people think.”

“Better to think too much than too little,” he retorted. “This is not something we can jump into headfirst, without a care for th’ consequences –”

“When have I ever recklessly thrown myself into anything?” she demanded. “Don’t answer that!” she snapped, when he opened his mouth to reply.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” she said, getting up and beginning to pace the room. “All these years of sneaking around, hardly daring to look at each other in public; trying to snatch moments together here and there, always listening for th’ knock on th’ door, th’ footsteps in th’ hall? That whenever we are invited to feasts and banquets, you get sat half a dozen places away from me? That we can sleep in the same bed perhaps once a month, if we’re lucky? Aren’t you tired of it, Reynard? Gods know I am.”

He stood and joined her, taking her hands. “I know it’s not easy, Meve. But it’s what we must do. We can’t give into…imprudent impulses…”

“No, I don’t see that we must do anything of th’ sort. Fine, don’t marry me, I’d be very happy not to go through that whole bloody rigmarole again. But for gods’ sakes, let’s be done with th’ pretence! I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks about it, Reynard – I’d be happy for th’ whole world to know what you are to me, and hang th’ consequences! How much time have we wasted denying ourselves the simple happiness of truly being together, whenever we like, as much as we like?”

“You might not care,” he said quietly, “but I do. You know it would cause a scandal, and even if it wouldn’t bother you at all, I cannot say th’ same –”

“Do you want to marry me?”

“It’s not a question of want –”

“Do you?” she demanded.

He exhaled. “If things were different…if circumstances were such, that –”

“It’s a simple question!”

“Yes! Of course I would want to marry you, if I could, but –”

She threw her hands up in the air. “Then just marry me, damn it! You think they don’t gossip about us anyway? D’you really think we’ve managed to keep this affair so secret that there’s a single bloody person in this castle that doesn’t know about it already?”

“No,” he snapped. “I will not. It would be a wasted opportunity, Meve –” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth, furious “– it’s plain to see that th’ negotiations between Villem and Cerys are going nowhere fast; we won’t be securing our alliance with Skellige with a wedding anytime soon. We might be at peace now, but our allies are more important than ever – if you were to wed, it ought to be for political advantage –”

She stared at him, open-mouthed. “What? I’m not – I’m not going to marry anyone else, not for any alliance, not even if Emhyr var fucking Emreis himself proposed to make me Empress of Nilfgaard! I’m marrying you or not at all.”

“Then I suppose you won’t be marrying anyone,” he replied, clenching his jaw. “Because you won’t be marrying me.”

“I could command it of you!” she spat out, and instantly regretted it. “Not that I ever would, but –”

“You promised.” Reynard’s voice was beginning to rise. “You promised that you would never command me in this. But as soon as you cannot get your way, you hold your crown over my head and threaten me with an order! When have I ever denied you anything? When have I ever refused to obey you? You have no more loyal subject than I, Meve, but this is too far!”

“Oh, first you claim that you don’t wish me to elevate you or grant you a new title, and now you complain that I hold too much power over you!”

“That is not th’ point and you know it!”

“It is exactly th’ point! I warned you of this from th’ start, and you said that you didn’t care that I outranked you, that loved me as your queen as well as a woman –”

“And I do, but gods, Meve – you make it difficult, sometimes.”

“Imagine how difficult it is for me!” she yelled. “A bloody thankless burden, this crown is, but I bear it, day in, day out – everyone always wanting something of me, a never-ending series of demands and negotiations and prices to pay, and th’ one thing I want for myself –”

“Lower your voice!” he hissed. “Someone will hear –”

She clenched her fists, resisting the temptation to seize something and throw it. “Don’t you dare tell me to be quiet! I am sick to death of this! I can’t do this anymore, Reynard. I can’t.”

He looked at her a long moment. “All right,” he said stiffly. “I can see we are at an impasse. I understand that maintaining our relationship under th’ present terms is no longer acceptable to you. If that’s th’ case, I will burden you with my company no longer.”

She stared at him. “What?”

He picked up his clothes and began to get dressed.

“Reynard, what th’ hell does that mean?”

“If we cannot agree to terms, there is no point continuing this discussion.”

“What th’ devils do you mean? We can’t just leave it there –”

“Good night, Your Grace.” He bowed and turned to the door.

She stood frozen in place for a long moment, before realising he was actually walking out on her. She grabbed her robe and yanked it on, hurrying after him. “You can’t just leave like that!” She followed him out into the passageway, past her startled guards, who looked as though they would rather be anywhere else in the world at that particular moment. “Reynard! Reynard Odo! Come back here at once!”

But he did not turn back.