They were taken to a large dining room, its gilded walls and window frames glistening under chandeliers dripping with diamonds. The room was empty save for a round table with stiff, high-backed chairs, and a handsome black piano in the corner. High heels clattered noisily across the marble floor as everyone was led to their appointed seats. A butler helped to tuck Colette's chair in after she was seated. Natalie's chair made an unattractive sound across the floor as she took her own seat, and looked up at the tall arched windows filled with the deep blue of dusk. A candelabra adorned the middle of the table, the red and silver candles lit, matching the red and silver place mats. Colette noticed the color scheme and smiled, pleased.
Tin dome plates gleamed in the candlelight, arranged artistically on the revolving center piece. Goblets of Coldton's best white wine were being filled for everyone at the table, a maid moving from one guest to the other, hesitating when she approached Piper. The lord waved his approval only because he could not be quite that rude in front of the queen. Colette housed witches, honored them, in fact. To continue to be so discourteous would surely, Natalie knew, end in awkward silence or severe disagreement.
"A lovely set up, your majesty," Colette said, picking the goblet up by the stem and sloshing the wine around the rim a little. "You definitely know how to welcome your guests."
He smiled, thanking Colette for gracing everyone with her surprise visit. The queen rested her elbows on the table, cupping her cheeks in her palms. "I am here to visit my newest mind weaver, Natalie Gorman."
All eyes shifted to said Natalie, who tried not to look like she wanted to sink low into her seat and disappear under the table. It was not long, thankfully, before they moved on, everyone talking about Coldton's sudden weather condition, shared concerns with middle people abusing unprescribed medicines in Coldton, which resulted in the lord's wrinkled brow, and then their plans for new street lamps and restoration projects. Natalie watched Piper. Her friend sniffed the wine and took a few sips. The mind weaver looked down to fiddle with her napkin, and when she looked back up, she saw that Peter was watching her. A small smile appeared on his lips, and he turned away when the man and woman next to him leaned over to ask him a question.
The maids made another round with the wine bottle, and then lifted the lids from the plates. Steam roiled off a bowls of white rice, a baked duck, fresh broccoli, clam and seaweed soup, pork pies, fried potatoes, and creamy spinach. Natalie wanted to stab her fork into everything, not realizing until now how empty her stomach felt. Everything smelled delicious.
Colette sliced off a generous portion of duck for herself. The center piece revolved around the table, and when it was Piper's turn, the lord watched, trying not to look like he had just witnessed a rat scampering across the dinner table. Natalie was perhaps the only person who noticed. Not even Piper bothered looking up from her plate of food.
Once everyone's plate was full, they ate and chatted, ladies leaning toward Colette with Coldton's latest gossip, never taking their eyes from her hair, her face. The queen mind weaver pretended to listen, interested, but the true interest resided in the fried potatoes, which she took a third helping of. Natalie watched, amused. She did not know Colette could eat so much, would eat so much. She did not know why she never considered that the queen mind weaver ate, slept, and put on her clothes one piece at a time, just like Natalie. Colette was not a painting. She did not exist only to be beautiful, delicate, and impacting.
A maid wandered around the table, checking to see if anyone needed a new napkin or their goblet refilled. Piper, unnoticed by everyone at this point, nearly inhaled her second serving of wine, and watched a little impatiently as the maid poured her a third one.
Natalie shook her head, biting down a smile. The lord and lady turned toward the mind weaver at that moment, and she straightened in her seat. They asked her many questions about her job, which she answered as professionally as she could, Colette watching from a few chairs down, her eyes like rose quartz in the candelabra's bouncy light. Natalie was very much aware of Peter's stare as well. She felt it like feathers in her heart.
The lady asked, "Tell me, miss Gorman, what is it like to be a mind weaver? And when did you decide to accept that you were born to do it?"
Moving her spoon around the bowl of soup in front of her, Natalie said, "Never a dull moment, I assure you, my lady. Always a new person to meet, a new challenge to face, a new story to remember." She smiled, trying not to look in Peter's direction. Everyone listened, attentive to what she had to say.
Natalie felt encouraged to continue, until she saw the lord's face. He looked as though she had launched into an unabridged explanation about, perhaps, how grass grew. She trailed off, not bothering to answer the lady's second question. Not that she wanted to, anyway. Her decision to become a mind weaver was a personal subject shared only with Piper. She knew the lord accepted her gift, appreciated it, in fact, having entrusted her himself with his own unwanted memory. But it was clear to her he did not care about the clockwork beneath it all. Her own stories.
Still, she felt deflated, like someone had punched a small hole in what little confidence she took in her work.
"I think she is quite gifted."
Natalie looked over. It was Peter who had spoken. He met her eyes. In them she found reassurance, and tried without success not to smile too appreciatively.
Piper cleared her throat, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, goblet empty for the third time. She moved the center piece around until the pork pies were in front of her. Before she reached for one, the lord declared it was time for dessert, and the dishes were cleared away, the pork pies swept out of Piper's reach. She frowned, then rested her elbow on the table. The maids returned shortly, placing blown glasses of chocolate trifles in front of everyone. Piper grinned. "That's what I'm talking about." She took up a mouthful. Natalie wanted to walk over and hug her friend, her loyal, kind-hearted friend, who did not deserve the crinkled brows of the lord, the stiff scrutiny.
Colette cleared her throat. "About Natalie's gifts."
Everyone looked up. The queen mind weaver smiled, black eye lashes brushing the tops of her porcelain white cheek bones as she looked down at her dessert and said, "I wish to address a request you asked of her, one that I should tell you she cannot honor without serious consequences."
She looked up, met Natalie's stare and balanced it like a plate on her head. "Natalie Gorman can be trusted, even with such an ability, this I know even if she does not. She is sure-footed and brave, but some things are outside of her control. What, you may ask?" She smiled, eyes sparkling like rose petals in rippled water. "Fate."
***
Colette, Natalie, and Piper were all led to a large study, complete with a fire place and many upholstered seats. Two were placed facing each other in front of the crackling fire. Dark colored drapes fell over the windows. Hot coffee was brought for everyone as they took their seats. Natalie instructed the lord to take hold of her hands and think of the memory he wished for her to weave.
He nodded, the firelight revealing little beads of sweat on his balding head. Natalie felt bad. Though he was indeed the lord of Coldton, he was also human. And that meant he knew fear. Guilt. Sadness. Whatever it was that awaited her. Natalie knew there was nothing for the lord fear, that her hands were quite capable, as Colette had said.
He took Natalie's hands, and she said, "Remember fate shall you forget memories taken like thorns." She could almost hear Piper's breath of relief as Natalie recited the mind weaver's motto. Of all the times to stumble over it, not in front of Colette.
The lord closed his eyes as Natalie had instructed. The crackling flames in the grate swayed and whipped, shadows dancing across their faces like grasping hands. The whispers resonated in Natalie's head until the room around them filled with light, and everyone disappeared.
The memory played out, and from where Piper stood, she could see Natalie's brows were knotted. Shadows bathed the witch's face as she looked in Colette's direction. The queen sat in a chair, ankles crossed, cup of coffee forgotten on the table beside her. Firelight blazed in her eyes as she observed, Natalie's hands shaking, lips moving as though she spoke, but there were no words. The lady sipped her coffee, lips thin. She knew what her husband wanted to forget. Whatever had happened, she had been there, too.
The hissing, popping coals in the grate continued, until at last Natalie pulled her hands free, tears turning her eyes into sapphires.
***
"It is finished."
The lord opened his own eyes and looked around, cheeks reddening when he noticed Colette seated only a few yards away, and then the lady came to his side, thanking Natalie. The mind weaver sat back in her seat, but tried to lift her chin with pride, despite how exhausted she felt.
Piper stood in the shadows, and Natalie met her eyes for a moment, then looked away too quickly, as though she had not noticed her at all. Colette rose from her seat, smoothing out any wrinkles in the front of her dress. She asked the lord a series of questions, mostly about common things, like what year it was, how old he was, his wife's maiden name, and many more. Natalie did not know if this was another step in the session she was supposed to have been taking. Everyone went quiet when Colette asked the lord to recount the new memory Natalie had weaved for him. It was so quiet, only the snapping flames in the grate and the ticking of a clock somewhere in the back of the room could be heard.
"I woke up that morning," he stuttered, and then cleared his throat, "and two of my employees had quit, just packed their suitcases and left. I sent maids and guards out to look for them, in the palace, in Coldton, not to force them back, mind you, but to ask why." He paused dramatically, a withered look on his face. "Later, I found out that one of them had passed away... The papers called it a heartbreak. Can you believe that? Can a person truly die from heartbreak?"
Colette met Natalie's eyes from her side vision.
"Anyway," the lord continued, "I remember her... She was a beautiful young woman. Prime of her life, I think. And the boy. He was one of my best sentinels. I heard rumors of his out and about somewhere in Willow Haven, but there is no way to be sure. This was about eighteen years ago, anyway, that they left."
The lady put a hand over her mouth, tears filming her large hazel eyes.
The lord smiled at Colette and Natalie. "Would you ladies like a cup of coffee? My maids make the best coffee in Coldton."
"We have some already," Colette said politely, gesturing to the table where she had left hers, cold now. "But we really should be on our way now. It has been an excellent evening. Thank you for dinner. I must learn the recipe for those fried potatoes." She smiled brilliantly, and helped the lord to a stand.
Piper came around the room, arms crossed, as though she planned to remain the shadow she was when she had come in. The lady took Natalie in her arms, kissing each of her cheeks, and handed her a box. "Here is the item you asked of us, from the memory. Thank you, miss Gorman. You are brilliant. A star among your kind! Please do keep this all between us. We do not want townsfolk trying to uncover all of the palace's secrets."
"Of course." Natalie smiled, stepped back, and curtsied. "It has been a great honor." But when she turned away from the lady, she let the frown pull at her mouth, and tears pool in her eyes.
Piper caught her at the door. "You okay?"
Natalie ignored her, turning to wait for Colette. The queen mind weaver said her goodbyes, and accepted an invitation back to dinner some time soon. A butler opened the door, and escorted the three of them through the palace and all of its tapestries, candles, and uncomfortable looking chairs.
Just before they made it to the front door, Natalie glanced into a little den and saw Peter standing there, watching her.
"Will you excuse me?" Natalie said when they stood at the front door. "I may have forgotten my coat."
She turned and slipped into the den, making sure nobody had seen her. She had not noticed that he had his pipe in his hand, smoke wafting around the room like spirits. A lock of blonde hair had fallen in one of his eyes as he looked up from stuffing the bowl, and smiled at her. "You are still here."
She worried her hands and looked back at the doorway leading out of the den, then looked back at her newest client. "I can't stay long. I'm supposed to be getting my coat." She bit her lip and looked at him through her lashes. "Um. Thank you for the dance."
"The pleasure is all mine."
"Well, about what I said... what I could not tell you." She added quickly, "I plan to. Next time we meet. If only you tell me what you couldn't."
"No can do." There was a twinkle in his eyes, or maybe it was the smoke playing tricks on her. Either way, she felt enraptured. As though she looked unconvinced, he offered, "I am afraid if I do you will want nothing more to do with our sessions."
Footsteps clattered down the hall in toward the den. Natalie moved around the armchair and table in the center of the room, her shadows dancing across the silk-papered walls. With one more look at Peter, who bowed his head politely at her, a fresh waft of smoke rising to the gilded ceiling, she was gone.