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If there’s one thing Adaire Duarte is good at, it’s watching.
No good thief can find their way without a talent for casing joints, or a penchant for reading expressions. Adaire learned that lesson years and years ago. She’d built a life for herself out of patient observation back in Velas. Suffice to say, she was one of the best.
In Aubade, it doesn’t help her nearly so much. Of course, there are things to watch for - she tries to keep a close eye on what the people demand, so that Ducarte’s can supply it. But the citizens of Aubade are open for the most part, happy to tell her to her face. There isn’t much need for deduction, for the sort of skills she’s spent her entire life cultivating.
So she turns her eyes to the only people who still keep things hidden - her companions. Lem is obsessing over the pattern, which is really something to be expected at this point. Hadrian is aching over his family, and troubled about his god, which is also not terribly out of the ordinary.
It’s no wonder that Adaire begins to look towards Hella. And keeps looking towards Hella, as whatever it is between her and Adelaide begins to form.
Adaire knows the use of rumors. It helps to keep track of lovers and enemies and affairs, whether they’re real or just believed to be real. Conversing in the dialect of local gossip has gotten her out of a sticky situation more than once, has allowed her to blend in when she’s needed it more than anything else. There are justifications she can make as to why she’s so interested in the developing relationship between her friend and the once dead Queen of Nacre.
But she’s not stupid enough to think that her interest is objective. Adaire may rarely act on feelings over logic, but that doesn’t mean she denies her emotions to herself. Hella has been by her side for a long time - too long for Adaire to keep from falling, just a little bit.
Who wouldn’t be attracted to all that muscle? Who was strong enough to keep from adoring that cheeky smile? Adelaide clearly wasn’t.
Adaire stirs a small spoon in her teacup as she pages through her plans for the festival this weekend. Aubade finds plenty of reasons to celebrate, which gives Adaire plenty of opportunities to make more money. Not that it really matters here.
Adelaide had stopped by Ducarte’s earlier in the day to publicly ask Hella to dance with her at the festival, as if they had anything as formal as dance cards to contend with. Hella had been flush with embarrassment, which was exactly the reaction Adelaide had been hoping to get, clearly. Adaire had watched the whole exchange from behind a clipboard, in the midst of taking inventory.
It all makes sense, really. It’s logical. Adelaide’s looks aren’t just gorgeous; they’re otherworldly. Tall, dark, and handsome - it makes sense that Hella is into that. Hell, Adaire can see herself becoming interested in Adelaide, if she ever deigns to pay her the briefest bit of attention.
But Adelaide has her hands full with Hella, and Adaire is happy to watch from the sidelines. Adaire must be happy with that. There are plenty of things out there she wouldn’t bat an eye at sabotaging, but this isn’t one of them.
———
Hella is more sullen than usual the morning of the festival. She stomps around Ducarte’s in her boots, slamming doors behind her aggressively. It’s her version of a pout.
Adaire knows the source of Hella’s frustration before she asks, could avoid the topic of conversation if she wanted to. But she’s Hella’s friend first, before anything else.
So when Hella is occupied with attacking a bit of dirt with a broom, Adaire slides up next to her, clipboard in hand. “Did I do something wrong? Or are you trying to destroy my store for the fun of it?” It’s a joke.
Hella gets it. She flushes, then sets the broom against the wall with a short laugh. “I didn’t mean to. I’ve just been… ugh.”
“Want to tell me about it?” Adaire offers, in a gesture that she thinks is incredibly magnanimous, considering what she knows Hella is going to complain about.
“It’s just Adelaide.” Bingo. “She asked me what I’m wearing to the festival. What does she mean, what am I wearing? I look great in this.” Hella grits her teeth. “And she doesn’t even care. I know she doesn’t care. She just wants to frustrate me. And I know that, but it still works. I’m frustrated.” She groans, then shakes her head. “I’m sorry, she just winds me up.”
“I know.” It’d be obvious even if Adaire wasn’t watching the two of them more often than not. “She’s got a weird version of flirting. You’ll get used to it if you want to, I guess.”
“Flirting?” Hella asks. “She’s not flirting with me.”
“Um. What?” Adaire stares at her, both eyebrows raised higher than she thought physically possible. Hella’s got to be kidding her - but judging by the look on her face, she’s completely serious. It’s only with great self-control that Adaire holds back the groan she wants to let out. “What is she doing, then?”
“Just- being annoying. She’s annoying at me, and I get irritated, and we hang out together. It’s our thing.” Hella considers this, then wrinkles her nose. “Is that flirting? I guess it kind of is. I do like spending time with her, despite… all of that.”
Adaire regrets everything. “Well, you’ll get a chance to spend time with her tonight,” she offers, looking back down at her clipboard. Ledgers. Numbers. Anything but thinking about how Hella can’t even recognize what Adelaide is doing, and about how cute that makes her.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll let you know how it goes.” Adaire can hear the smile in Hella voice, and can’t help but give her a small smile in return.
“You do that.”
———
The festival goes off without a hitch. There’s a large dance floor in the middle of the square, an endless supply of food and drink, and rows of booths selling Ducarte’s merchandise. If profits meant anything in this place, Adaire would be on cloud nine.
As it is, she’s holding up a wall near the bar, sipping at a hot chocolate. She’s been here since the festival started, indulging in a spot of people-watching once she was sure her vendors were set up well. Hadrian showed up for a bit. Lem didn’t show at all. And Hella’s been here almost the whole night, snipping at Adelaide for a while before she finally gets onto the floor. Adaire has seen it all.
She watches as they finish their dance. Adelaide lets go of Hella’s hand and slinks away with a triumphant look on her face, leaving the other woman in the middle of the square. Adaire sighs to herself, a little more loudly than she would otherwise, and returns to her warm drink. There’ll be work to do soon enough - as the festival winds down, she’ll have to meet with her vendors and count her inventory, figure out her revenue, and take down the stalls. It’ll be nice, to have something to occupy her.
She’s still figuring out the logistics of stall removal when someone leans against the wall next to her. It takes an elbow to her side to distract her from her thoughts, and she turns to glare at the tall woman standing by her side.
Adelaide.
“I haven’t seen you on the dance floor yet,” she says, in her naturally melodic voice, and Adaire raises herself to her full height.
“I’ve been occupied with other things.” It’s not a total lie. “I see you’ve been enjoying yourself.”
“I always do. I’m good at that.” Adelaide grins, and for the first time, Adaire doesn’t see something sinister in it. But the impression doesn’t last long. “You don’t seem to be as talented at it.”
Adaire tries not to bristle at the accusation. “Maybe we just have fun in different ways.”
Adelaide waves a hand flippantly. “You watch too much. You should do things more often.”
Ignoring the bait is easy enough. “I run a department store. I do plenty.”
“Not enough.” Adelaide laughs. “You’ve seen all I’ve been doing, and she still didn’t understand. She still needed you to point it out. You’ve got a lot of work to do if you ever want her to notice.”
“And what if I don’t want that?” Adaire asks, but it’s a weak questions. There’s no way Adelaide doesn’t understand what Adaire wants. They’re both the same, in that way.
“How could you not?” It’s a fair question. One Adaire has no answer to.
Luckily, she doesn’t have to reply, as she catches sight of Hella approaching the two of them, sipping at a mulled wine. Hella raises her unoccupied hand and waves. “Oh, there you are! I was wondering where you’d gone.”
Adelaide smirks and pushes off the wall. “The two of you should dance before the band leaves.”
“What?” Adaire starts, but Adelaide is already plucking Hella’s drink out of her hand.
“I’ll take care of this for you.” All three of them know that means she’s going to finish the drink. Adaire glances at Hella, raising an eyebrow, but she doesn’t seem bothered. She grins down at Adaire, offering her a hand.
It’s not a hard decision. There’s work to be done, but it’ll keep. Adaire puts her fingers on Hella’s palm, lets Hella drag her out into the square.
Hella leads, and Adaire doesn’t just watch. She follows.