Luther’s Pride Part 52 (Alt) (Patreon)

“So, your arcanum is conjuration, then?” Charlotte asked after noticing her new surroundings. She and Luther stood in the castle gardens, at the entrance to the hedge maze. Luther had spotted them on the way in, and his thoughts led him here when he cast Criella’s spell. Night torches weren’t lit yet, but would be soon, when the party inside made its way out of the dining hall. 

The late-autumn air was crisp, but the gardens were well-tended. The last of the sun’s twilight still clung to the sky, making the stars at its edge dim in contrast to those at its zenith. Luther spotted the moon hanging low in the sky. The round, gray face seemed small, so unlike the large moons ever-present in the romantic paintings. 

“I thought it’d be something more spectacular. But it just so happens to be the same as Criella’s, with whom you share no blood?” Charlotte asked, prompting him for a response. 

“Yes,” Luther lied. “Shall we return to the party?” 

She raised an eyebrow, as if questioning whether his offer was genuine. He offered her his hand, but she didn’t take it. She turned aside, facing the gardens through the arch and keeping the castle behind her. 

“Why the rush?” Charlotte asked. “I had just been praying for someone to come and whisk me away from my mother, and here you are, a hero made flesh.” 

Luther chuckled, glancing at the entrance. The servants had prepared the grounds, but hadn’t lit the fires yet. Guards or footmen likely remained somewhere nearby, but he didn’t see any. He and Charlotte seemed to be the only people in the world. He might as well enjoy a moment’s peace before rushing back into the duke’s presence. 

“You don’t enjoy the duke’s parties?” Luther asked.  

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I don’t enjoy parties. They’re humbugs. My mother makes me attend them because she wants me to find a suitable union, but she’s already picked someone out for me. She’s keen for me to wed Bartholomew Harker when he comes of age this spring. His parents and mine have made some arrangements.” 

“He’s young for you, isn’t he?” Luther asked. 

“Am I no longer young?” Charlotte asked. 

“Forgive me, my lady,” Luther said. “You must have just come of age yourself, of course.” 

Charlotte gave him a sly look. “Ah, there’s your charm.” 

“I only meant to suggest that coming of age and immediate engagement is not the best foundation for a union,” Luther said. 

“You’re one to talk,” Charlotte scoffed. “Eira and Rhosyn are younger than I.” 

“Fair shot,” Luther said. “But I don’t expect our lives to be without their problems.” 

“Indeed,” Charlotte said. “At least you didn’t know them beforehand. It’s difficult to respect someone who acts like a child because they are one. I still remember Bartholomew crying last year because the other boys teased him.” 

“Oh, trust me,” Luther said. “It’s even more difficult to respect someone who acts like a child when they aren’t one. I’ve met too many adults who react to being told no about as well as any toddler.” 

Charlotte laughed, then turned her face in surprise. “You are quite clever, Lord Le Fey. It’s almost an admirable quality.” 

“Why almost?” Luther asked. 

“Because you’re not that clever,” Charlotte said. 

“Then I shall endeavor to improve, if only to hear you laugh more heartily, Miss Charlotte,” Luther said, offering her his arm for a stroll through the gardens. 

“You may call me Lottie,” she said. “My friends do.” 

“Do you have many friends here at the duke’s court?” Luther asked. 

“Oh, a few,” Charlotte said. “None that would approve of my dancing with you, even if it was to defy my mother.”

“Oh?” Luther asked. “And why is that? Has my reputation for poor dancing preceded me?” 

“On the contrary,” Lottie said. “It’s said you must be an excellent dancer, having seduced five women in so short a time. You’ve been rather a subject of conversation in many drawing rooms, ever since your father passed.” 

“Oh?” Luther asked. “What would they discuss?” 

“Well, the rumors I’ve heard are you’re a sexual deviant who dropped out of university,” Lottie said. “Then you fled the empire to escape your gambling debts, returned after your father died to seek his wealth, colluded with a corrupt lawyer to inherit, secretly married that same lawyer, along with any other woman you met who’d have you, and had your pet devil kill the man who should have inherited your father’s title.” 

Luther had to stop himself from laughing at some suggestions, but had to keep his hand from trembling with rage at the others. He decided to address them in order, if she’d let him. 

“Well, let’s see. Shall I address these rumors for you?” Luther asked. 

“Oh, if you would,” Lottie said. “But please, don’t make it widely known if they’re false. I’d much prefer my mother to think a rogue has stolen me away from her. At least for a few hours.”

“I fear I shall disappoint you in some respects, then,” Luther said. “I assume the rumors of my sexual deviancy revolve around the fact that I’m not attracted to men?” 

Lottie nodded. “Some say it’s a sign of closed-mindedness, and there are many hurtful stereotypes, but I don’t think having preferences is immoral. You can’t help the traits you inherit, and setting aside your father’s race, it was unusual for him not to have any spouses after your mother. It made him quite the romantic figure to many, but still a curious one.” 

Luther nodded. “Well, that much is true. While I do not share my father’s monogamous preference, I am attracted to women, and not men, which meant I had to turn down Branan’s offer to marry.” 

Lottie nodded. “I can understand why many would respond in anger at having such hopes dashed for something beyond their control. What of the rest?” 

“Let’s see, I dropped out of university. Or rather, I completed what studies I wished to, completed the exams on the others, and then ceased going,” Luther said. “With my father’s library and methods, I’ve had a university-level education since I could read and write.” 

“And your gambling debts had nothing to do with it?” Lottie asked. 

Luther shook his head. “I had no gambling debts, at least not to my knowledge.” 

“Lord Braxenbury says you owe him fifty coins from a poker game,” Lottie said. 

“Braxenbury?” Luther asked. “I never knew a Braxenbury.” 

“That’s his married name,” Charlotte said. “He used to be Owen Himmelsen.” 

“Oh, Owen,” Luther said, casting his mind back to his university days. “It was five coins, and I told him to consider it a partial forgiveness of the money that he owed me.” 

“Ah,” Charlotte said. “So you’re not an indebted gambler, then?” 

“No,” Luther said. 

“Are you a greedy person?” Lottie asked. 

“No, I returned to mourn my father, as was proper,” Luther said. “If I have a vice, it is pride. I was incredibly proud of my father, and I hope he would be proud of the man I’ve become. Because I am.” 

“And I suppose your speedy return was because of your arcanum,” Lottie said, as if she knew a secret. “I wonder how far you can travel?” 

“I don’t know,” Luther admitted. “I haven’t yet tested its limits.” 

“Perhaps you should. You’ll likely have occasion to use it,” Lottie said. “I’ve never met a more unpopular man.” 

Luther frowned at that. Perhaps he should have attempted to glean more whispers of his general reputation before playing to the prejudices against him. Still, he had intended to blind those in the duke’s hall to his true capabilities, and on that front he’d have to call tonight a resounding success. 

“And what of your pet devil?” Lottie asked. 

“I think she’d claw your eyes for calling her that,” Luther warned. Though putting Criella in a collar was tempting. “You might as well call Helena my pet giantess and see how high she can throw you before you fall to your death.” 

“Point taken,” Charlotte said. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to insult Criella; on the contrary, I find her quite attractive. I can appreciate her appeal.” 

“Oh, yes?” Luther asked. 

Lottie nodded. “So tell me, was it really your arcanum that brought us here? Or did Criella cast the spell to send us here to preserve your secret?” 

“My secret?” Luther asked. 

“That you don’t have an arcanum,” Lottie said. “Do you think you’re the first person to keep their lack of arcanum a secret? Playing it as mysterious works for a while, but it won’t last. They’ll find you out, and when that happens, your charm and your spouses may not be enough to save you.” 

“I can demonstrate it again if need be,” Luther said. “Shall I take us somewhere else?”

“Do we need to stall so Criella can cast her spell once more?” Lottie asked. “Don’t worry, Luther, I won’t tell anyone your secret, but you can’t imagine that I’m the only one to see through your trickery. You may have just emboldened your enemies.” 

Luther debated telling her the truth, if only to prove that he had an arcanum, but he recognized the jab at his pride for what it was. She was trying to coax a confession out of him, and he’d only just met her. She seemed genuine, but he had nothing to suggest that she was on his side. Besides, it was no longer true that he had no arcanum. 

He smiled. “Think as you please, my lady, but do not say that I admitted to any such trickery. You are wrong there, for there was no trick in our display, only showmanship.” 

“As you say,” Lottie said, letting the matter drop. “But as for the other rumors; you fled the empire, did you not?” 

“I didn’t flee,” Luther said. “But I traveled outside of its borders for many years.” 

“What was that like?” Lottie asked. “I’ve never even been beyond the county. For me, the entire world is nothing but the same five houses and the lands between them.” 

Luther smiled, casting his eyes toward the castle gates and the nighttime countryside beyond them. His love of travel tugged at his heart. He’d lost count of how often he’d sat in a carriage, ridden in a wagon, sailed on a ship, marched, ridden, or sledded through the world.

Once, his entire world had been a tower and the lands beneath it. He’d yearned for more. Travel was a freedom he longed for in his youth. When the opportunity arose, he took it. He’d told himself and others that he was doing it for research: to see what he might discover about his arcanum. The partial truth satisfied him and his father, but Criella had always taken his decision to leave personally, despite her refusal to join him. She wanted to stay and pursue her law degree, so she did, and she’d blamed him for it ever since. Luther realized that now. Over the years, her regrets must have hardened into resentments, and in his absence, he became a target for those ill feelings until his return. That was why she had been so short with him. 

It was as if thinking of her summoned her to him, for she appeared beside him in an instant, nearly startling both him and Lotte. 

“Forgive me,” Criella said. “Rhosyn told me where you were, but if you don’t return soon, you may soon face a challenge for kidnapping someone’s daughter.” Her eyes flitted to Charlotte, then returned to Luther. She offered him a weak smile. “Shall we?” 

“We’ll meet you in there,” Luther said. “But I want to prove something to Lottie first. We’ll be right behind you.” 

Criella raised an eyebrow, then frowned. “Hello, Lottie.” 

“Criella,” Lottie said, smiling. “Tell me, do you think Luther is worth marrying? Do you find him to be a noble and trustworthy man?” 

Criella’s eyes narrowed, but she answered. “I trust Luther with my life, of course. He’s my husband.” She turned her attention to Luther. “Hurry, or Helena will be next, and she will drag you in by your ear.” She tilted her head in a bow and vanished. 

Luther turned toward Charlotte and rubbed his hands together, surprising her. “Criella’s returned to the castle, hasn’t she?” 

“She has,” Lottie said, confused, as she looked around to confirm she could no longer spot Criella. 

“Good, then let me tell you a secret,” Luther said, offering her his hand. 

Charlotte placed her hand in his, watching his face as he focused and did his best to match his spirit with Criella’s. “Conjuration is not my arcanum.” 

And with that, the two of them vanished from the garden grounds, reappearing in the ballroom not an inch from where they’d disappeared. Their sudden appearance caused a ruckus, startling a servant into spilling a drink on a nearby lord. 

“I say, unhand her,” Elizabeth Talbot said, glaring at where their hands joined. “Are you all right, Charlotte? Did he frighten you?” 

“I’m fine, Mother,” Charlotte said. “Lord Le Fey was kind enough to take me to the gardens, where we walked to recover from our frantic dancing; that is all.” 

The hall seemed glad they were all right, but few took Luther’s joke in the good humor he’d intended. Jowangshin gave him a frustrated sigh. “Come, husband, sit with us. Let’s dine for a while.” 

Luther nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way. “It was a pleasure dancing with you, Lottie,” Luther said, being as informal as possible, which infuriated Elizabeth and made Charlotte glow with glee. He took her hand and kissed it. “I look forward to our next dance.” 

Luther, Helena, Jowangshin, Criella, Eira, and Rhosyn left the dance floor and sat at a table toward the exit, a place of ill favor, but Luther didn’t mind. The duke and his spouses were already over the spectacle, moving on as they instructed the musicians to strike up another song. 

Nobles danced, ate, drank, and conversed at the party, as they were wont to do. Luther watched them, reading his name upon their lips more than once, though their eyes never glanced in his direction. He grinned and drank his water, too busy people-watching to eat much. 

“How did it go over?” Luther asked Eira. 

“It startled them. A few laughed, but Lady Talbot wanted to press kidnapping charges,” Eira said. “The duke almost allowed it, but Criella went to fetch you.” 

“Ah,” Luther said, frowning. 

“Can you tell me what anyone is thinking?” Luther asked, looking at Rhosyn. 

“To read someone’s surface thoughts is as easy as reading their expression,” Rhosyn said. “With the right spell.” 

“What’s the consensus?” Luther asked. 

“Most think you’re silly, and that it’s strange your arcanum is conjuration when there’s no record of it in your family. A few believe it was Criella’s doing, and not yours, and that you have no arcanum,” Rhosyn said. 

“Perfect, then I’ve set the trap,” Luther said. “Let’s see if anyone bites, shall we?” 

They didn’t have to wait long. 

“You, sir, are Lord Luther Le Fey?” A middle-aged man ten to fifteen years Luther’s senior stood before him. Beside him, a much younger woman stood half a pace away, her hand on his arm. 

“Yes, I am,” Luther said. “But I’d be glad to put on another spectacle if there are those who do not yet recognize my face in this hall.” 

The man didn’t laugh. “My name is Lord Benedict Spencer. Am I known to you?”

Luther furrowed his brow. He hadn’t heard the name before, but he turned to look at the others. Jowangshin nodded. 

“My apologies,” Luther said. “I’ve been away from the Empire for many years, and I have yet to review the ranks. I’m afraid I don’t know who everyone is.” 

“Lord Benedict,” Jo cut in. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. Forgive me, I should have made the introduction. This is my husband, Lord Luther Le Fey,” Jowangshin said. “Luther, this is Lord Benedict Spencer, and one of his spouses, Lady Wren Spencer, nee Feothe, Branan’s daughter by Saehild, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“You are not,” the woman answered, and the chill in her voice stiffened Luther’s spine. He didn’t know that Branan had children, but he supposed it made sense. The man was old enough to have grown children, even if it surprised him to see that a mercenary had a daughter who married so well. Luther wondered what other connections the Feothe clan might have, and whether they lasted beyond death. 

“Would you care to join us for food and drink?” Luther asked, gesturing to their table. “You’re welcome to sit at our table.” 

“You mock us, sir, and my late father-in-law, with your cheating ways, your selfish spectacles, and your disrespect. Is it true that you encouraged the Verdell union to attack my father-in-law, hid your wife’s true power from him, rushed his burning, and then abandoned his pyre before he ascended?” 

“That is a bevy of accusations,” Luther said, holding up his hands in peace. “I did not encourage the Verdell’s challenge against your father,” Luther said, speaking to the woman and not the man. “Your father earned that challenge on his own.” 

Her face stiffened in surprise. 

“I made no secret of Criella’s power. That was a mistake that has been rectified, and the servant responsible for failing to publish the wedding announcement has been severely lashed for his mistake.” Technically, that was true. He’d given Wulfric a good tongue-lashing that very morning. He’d laughed partway through it, and Wulfric was not at all amused, but he’d done it. 

“However, on the other two counts, I’m afraid I am guilty,” Luther said. “I did not realize he had children who might wish to attend his ascension, and I did not ask. That ignorance is my failure. And yes, I abandoned his pyre before he ascended. I had no great love for the man, and no wish to aid in his ascent. On that, I am both guilty and unrepentant.” 

The man grimaced. “Such cheek.” 

“Oh, is it showing?” Luther adjusted his coat as if to hide his bare ass from view. 

No one laughed. Luther thought Criella might have at least hidden a smile, but no. She glared at him, as if she’d be blaming him for what was about to happen. Yet she should know the truth as well as he did; nothing he said would stop what was coming. No amount of remorse, nor any defense or innocence, could prevent the inevitable. Heck, if anything, he’d expected a challenge on his way to swear his oaths, but swearing them left less ambiguity about what was at stake. 

The man leaned close to Luther, glanced at Criella, and smiled. “I know your secret, Le Fey,” he said. “You have no arcanum, and I am not afraid of you.” 

Luther glanced toward Charlotte, but he didn’t see her. She’d warned him, though, that others might see what he did and assume it was Criella’s doing, not his. Not having an arcanum fit much of what he presented. They seemed happy to rush in to take advantage of that before he attracted more spouses. 

“We, the Spencer Union, challenge you, the Le Fey clan, before these witnesses, for your lands, title, and lives, as is the law!” His voice grew bolder and louder as the hall grew quieter around them. A hush fell over the crowd, almost immediately broken by the duke, who’d descended from his table and was nearby. Coincidence, surely. 

“I shall, of course, officiate,” Duke Beaudivere offered. 

“Alas,” Luther said. “Due to the loss of the Verdells, it is too early for a challenge.” He gestured toward Rhosyn and Eira. “Your crescendo was premature, Lord Spencer, but I’m sure you are used to that, Lady Spencer.” 

A snicker came from somewhere in the hall, but no one copped to it. Luther thought it sounded like a noise Lottie would’ve made. 

“But surely a union as mighty as yours doesn’t care about such things and can waive the mourning period?” the duke asked, baiting the trap with weak, distasteful bait. 

“I can be generous,” Benedict said, holding up his hand. “Three days, Le Fey. I shall give you three days. See if you can muster an arcanum by then. After that, I will accept no forfeit, and only your death shall satisfy my challenge.” 

Luther glanced at his wives. He didn’t know how strong the Spencer union was, but the others knew more about them. Helena cracked her knuckles and nodded. Jo frowned, but nodded. Eira and Rhosyn nodded in creepy unison. Criella gave no sign of approval or disapproval. She sat, impassive as a stone. 

“What say you, Criella?” Luther asked. 

“Do as you will, Luther,” Criella said. “I shall fight by your side. I think I’ve developed a taste for fighting, even if I can still hear Branan’s pathetic begging for his life.” 

Lady Spencer snarled. 

“And we’re all here as witnesses!” Duke Beaudivere called. “A fight that shall surely go down in history, in three days! A duel at sunrise!” Then, more quietly, “and another oath ceremony, most likely, directly after.”

Luther rolled his eyes, but he nodded his acknowledgment. It wouldn’t be an easy fight, but they had three days to train. So, with any luck, it’d be brief. He had wondered what unknown clan or noble would be the first to emerge from the crowd of unknown faces to seek his seat. Now he knew, and he fully intended to make an example of them. If they won, the other nobles would respect them and their might, and leave them be. Whether they could do it without revealing his secret was another matter. It was best to plan for this as his debut to the nobility and the world. 

The duke had said one thing that Luther found correct. This fight would go down in history.