Look Beyond What You See
Portents of War

“What do you mean?” I inquire, voice trembling slightly for fear of the extreme reactions of the Berkeley men. “Surely the assassination of one man, however awful for the family and the country, ought not to result in a war on the scale you expect.”

“If all persons on Earth were rational, I could agree with you,” Wesley replies wearily. “But such is not the case. The Archduke was the heir to the throne of the Austrian Empire. Understandably, the Austrians are extremely upset. My sources in Austria say that they are demanding restitution from the Serbian government. The Serbs, meanwhile, claim that the perpetrator of this crime is a member of an extremist fringe group and has nothing to do with the Serbian government, and thus they view the Austrian demands for restitution from the Serbian government as nothing less than ridiculous.”

“The rest should be easy enough, from our studies,” Dmitri adds. “You know how closely allied Austria and Germany are, and how Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany has been spoiling for a chance to show off the arsenal he’s been building. He will be all for a war if he can get involved, and Serbia will call on Russia for protection if Austria or Germany attacks it. Russia is allied with France and Britain, and so those countries might also be dragged into the conflict.”

“Not just those countries, either, but all their colonies could become involved,” Wesley continues. “Most of Africa will be plunged into war, and India. Does not your sister currently live there? You ought to write to her, and see what intelligence they have about what might become of that colony.”

“I will write to her tonight. I have been meaning to, in any case, since I received my last letter from her,” I reply, frantically trying to process this speculation about the turmoil that could shortly take over our lives. “What will our role be in all of this?”

“We will have to wait and see. Fortunately, Zinaida and I will not be pulled in opposite directions by this particular network of alliances. But it is my understanding that the de Poitiers family, despite residing in France, has stronger ties to the Germans than to France. Xenia in particular has a network of sorceresses there, and also the small clan of darkness elementals has aligned itself with the German government. You must be strong in whatever allegiance you choose. Any double dealings will not be tolerated.”

“My place is with you,” I reply immediately, taking Dmitri’s hand. “There is no love lost between my birth family and myself, and I would never help them to the detriment of my relations with you. You are my family now.” Dmitri smiles at me sideways, keeping his eyes towards his father, who seems similarly pleased by this response.

“What of the water elementals? Their allegiances vary, do they not? Will they also try to secure Aerys’ loyalty?” Dmitri inquires. My head is spinning. I had not even thought of that. What business have they with me? I am no elemental, just a girl with some talent for magic.

“They have split themselves between Italy and Greece, I believe, and are too busy enjoying the Mediterranean to bother about whatever conflicts the rest of Europe may be embroiled in. At least in these beginning stages, I do not believe we have anything to fear from them,” Wesley asserts. I breathe a sigh of relief. The news of my grandparents’ political allegiance combined with the idea that they might try to influence me was worrisome enough. I don’t want to cause problems for the Berkeleys, nor to be involved with this at all. I feel I will have enough to worry about, what with the wedding plans and everything.

“Has the British government contacted you about the possibility of war yet, or have the Russians contacted your wife?” I ask Wesley. My father-in-law-to-be shakes his head.

“They haven’t any reason to, as yet. We still have hope, however minuscule, that this conflict will be resolved peaceably.”

“So what action will we take now?”

“If anything, we will have to decide whether to accelerate or postpone altogether your wedding plans, based on how things go in Europe over the next month or so. If it’s war and we are called into it, the last thing we need is a half-planned wedding demanding our attention.”

“That is better discussed with Mother than with us,” Dmitri points out. “She will be most upset of all of us if the current plans are in any way disturbed.”

“But the two of you stand to be most affected by whatever is decided in that regard, and so I must now ask if you have any preferences on the matter.”

Dmitri and I exchange glances. My feelings are all a muddle. Our hands, still entwined with one another, tingle with the usual warmth and electricity that flow between us whenever we touch. If anything this sensation has become more intense as we’ve spent more time together. I know that, as far as he is concerned, the only thing barring us from being wed as early as tonight is my own readiness (or lack thereof) for such a step. The details matter little to either of us, truth be told. I simply do not wish an elaborate, effeminate affair like the one Zinaida envisioned. But I have no idea what the best decision--what the right decision--might be, under these newly complicated circumstances.

The idea of matrimony, though I have had some time to get used to it, still frightens me, as does the prospect of what might transpire with the consummation of that most holy union, when our magics as well as our bodies become one. Should war break out, if we have been joined in this way and our magics have benefitted from the union, we could only be more effective in battle, no doubt a desirable outcome. If the union is detrimental to one or both of our magics, then we will be less effective in battle. Increased affection for each other, which no doubt will be brought on by this union regardless of its effect on our magics, could only be a distraction, but one could say the same for the increased frustration that particularly he will feel in having to wait for that union. When preparing for war, however, I feel it is best to stick with known quantities, and too many variables will come into play if we try to rush this wedding.

“What do you think, Dmitri?” I ask him, hoping to delay having to vocalise a decision.

“You know that, if only the two of us were concerned, I would wait only as long as you wanted to for our wedding and not one second longer,” he murmurs. His voice is low and hot and makes my insides smoulder with desire. Always a contest of fear and desire. But what is best for everyone involved? My own feelings hardly matter in a situation like this. “But with a possibility of war--Nay, I fear more than a possibility. A near certainty of war in the imminent future changes things, since we don’t know....” He pauses. My heart soars with relief. He’s come to the same conclusion I have.

“We don’t know how our union will affect our skills,” I finish in a tone not unlike his. His grip on my hand tightens and his temperature spikes. “And so it is better to postpone than to rush? Is that your meaning?”

“Yes, much as it disappoints me.”

Wesley has watched this exchange with something between amusement and that disturbed expression he wore when first beholding Dmitri and me in bed together the morning after our engagement ball. He smiles at our decision, however. I think he had come to the same conclusion himself, well before we did.

“You think as I do. Excellent. Don’t trouble yourselves about convincing Zinaida. Leave that to me,” Wesley decides firmly.

“As you wish, Father. Have you need of us for anything else?” Dmitri asks.

“Nothing comes to mind. I wanted to discuss this with you before your mother found out and had a hissy fit. You are dismi--Oh, I almost forgot. The one thing that will change immediately is that the two of you will be training in that training room freely henceforward. You need no longer sneak in the back door when you think your mother and I are not around.”

“How did you--” Dmitri exclaims, indignant at his carefully plotted secrecy having been found out.

“My study does overlook the place. You did a masterful job cleaning up, most times, but the ground has been rather more spongey than usual since Aerys arrived, and there’s no disguising that sulfur smell that follows your flames. Now, don’t look so glum. Your mother never noticed anything, which is why you are both still in possession of your heads. But I must ask you to leave now. I have business to attend to.”

“As you wish,” Dmitri and I reply simultaneously. An exchanged glance and a giggle pass between us as we leave Wesley’s study, but a more sombre mood quickly descends on us.

“Roof?” he suggests.

“Yes,” I answer immediately. I can’t think of anything better than fresh air right now.

When we get there, I’m honestly surprised that the sun is still shining. The news from Wesley about the possibility of war seemed to suck all of the joy out of the world. I settle myself between a couple potted plants near the edge of the roof, and Dmitri squeezes himself in beside me. We’ve been spending more time in close proximity to each other of late, ever since he showed me that painting....

The painting. His feelings. My feelings. This war. The wedding. Who knows what will happen?

“We’ll have to step up the training. You can’t afford to focus on just one skill or another anymore. Afternoons will all have to be training,” he remarks. “Which means you’ll have to start sleeping more. What have you been doing early in the mornings? Juniper always complains to me that you’re up before the sun, with your nose in some book or another, and she’s always harping on me to convince you to take your beauty sleep as a proper lady ought--”

“All the more reason not to, in my opinion. And if you must know...” I take a deep breath, steadying myself for what must follow. I wasn’t ready to let him in on this secret, but I guess now is as good a time as any. “Я учусь русский язык утром.” I study Russian in the mornings. I pray my accent and grammar were all correct. It hasn’t been easy, doing this alone. All I said was that I study Russian in the morning, but the look on Dmitri’s face makes me feel like I’ve just knighted him or something.

“Для меня?” he asks. ‘For me?’ Of course. Who else?

“Да, конечно. Тебе нравится?” Yes, of course. Does it please you?

“Ты говоришь очень хорошо.” In my nervousness, to be told that I speak ‘very well’ is more than I could have hoped for. I can’t help smiling broadly and blushing at the compliment.

“Thank you, but I fear you flatter me. My accent can’t be right, having practised alone, and my grammar--”

“Is none so bad as you think it is. You’ve done uncommonly well, for studying alone. Russian is no easy language to learn.” He brushes a few strands of hair out of my face. His fingers leave hot tingly trails on my skin and rouse previously suppressed desires in me. “And you really went to all that trouble--”

“I like to learn languages. I thought I’d surprise you.”

“You are truly a wonder.” His eyes steal my reply, so intense are they, and then his lips capture mine, a perfect stopper for the unnecessary words that would have tumbled forth. His arms surround me, pull me tightly against him. My hands cup his face, begging for more, more, more. Maybe we should reconsider. Maybe the wedding should be sooner.

“Is it too late to change our minds?” he whispers huskily as our lips separate. I am breathless, desperate for things I cannot name. A shriek from downstairs, unmistakably belonging to Zinaida, seems timed to answer his question and destroy the mood between us. Reality crashes in again, harsher than before.

“Does it matter? Your father agreed with our decision,” I point out, pulling away. He pulls me towards him again, his eyes searching mine.

“But what do you want, Aerys?”

“When I’m absolutely certain, I’ll let you know.”

***~O~***

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