Chapter Text
“Wylan, aren’t you going to come down, dear?”
Wylan gave a noncommittal hum. “I’m not quite finished, mother.” He gave the canvas a delicate stroke with the brush.
He could hear Marya sigh from the other side of the door. “Will you at least let me come in? I would quite like to see your painting!”
Wylan moved begrudgingly from his place at the easel and unlocked the door. Marya stepped into the room and nodded approvingly.
“That’s rather lovely, Wylan. The rose gardens, if I’m correct?”
“Indeed.”
His mother beamed. “It’s wonderful. I’m sure it will be a fine piece once it’s finished.”
Wylan bathed in his mother’s approval gratefully. “Was there something you needed?”
“It’s about the suit for the Courting Seaso-”
Wylan threw the paintbrush down. “Mother, what did we say about Courting Season? It’s pointless, you know that-”
“Look, even if you don’t want to get married this year, the Season is always such a delight!” She looked desperate
He looked up at Marya. “I suppose I’ll have to go at some point.”
She nodded gravely.
Wylan got up from his seat. “Fine.”
Marya clapped her hands delightedly. “Fabulous! The tailor is downstairs.”
She seized Wylan by the arm and dragged him down the stairs. An auburn hair woman stood on the wide landing, apparently waiting.
“I’m Genya Safin,” she greeted him, shaking his hand firmly.
“Wylan.”
Genya dived straight into business. She took Wylan’s measurements before presenting him with options for the suit.
“Velvet has become quite popular,” she told him, “though personally, I think it’s overdone. Tacky, one might say.” She thought. “I think linen might be the best option.”
Wylan smiled. “Whatever you think is best, Miss Safin.”
Genya laughed. “Miss Safin, how delightful. I see you’ve been raised to be respectful.”
“My mother tries her best.”
Genya moved away from the subject of Wylan’s mother. She raised an auburn brow. “The Season’s coming up. Anybody you have your eye on?”
“What? No!” Wylan spluttered.
“I hear that the Fahey’s have entered their son, Jesper.”
Wylan’s mouth quirked in disgust. “I know Jesper.”
“Quite the charmer, hm?”
He soured. “Indeed.”
Genya got up from her seat. “Well, I’ll take my leave. I can drop of the suit in… two weeks time.”
“Perfect. Thank you, Miss Safin.”
She waved and slipped out of the front doors.
Marya emerged from the drawing room. “Was that so bad?”
Wylan scowled. “No.”
“Then why the bitter face?”
“Jesper Fahey will be attending the Season.”
Marya let out a tired groan. “Why on earth do you despise him so, Wylan? What did the boy ever do to you?”
“He opened his mouth,” Wylan murmured.
“Now, don’t be so unkind, it’s ungracious.”
“Maybe if he weren’t such a brash, cocky little-”
Marya waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind Jesper, Lady Starkov has asked for my opinion on the flowers she wants to display at the Season Ball, and I’m not sure what I should choose.”
“And you think I’ll be helpful how?”
“You have an eye for colour.”
Wylan sat next to his mother. “What options do you have?”
“Uh, roses, orchids, carnations-”
“Carnations might be nice. Yellow, for Spring.”
Marya blinked in surprise. “Yes, yes, that would be nice.”
“I could pick some up from the Nilsson’s shop in the market, if you would like?”
Marya nodded and gave an exhale of relief. “Thank you, that would be wonderful. I told you that you had an eye for colour.”
“I’ll set off now.”
“But you have paint on your no-”
Wylan was gone before his mother could finish her warning. The late-spring sunshine felt warm on his face and the breeze tossed his hair as he made his way to the market. A couple looked at him rather strangely as he passed them. That might be because he had paint on his nose.
But no matter. As he moved closer to the market square, the crows grew thicker, and the air filled with plummy voices and chuckles. The Nilsson’s florist, The Orchid, was of a faded yellow facade. The inside was brighter, though, and the air was heavy with floral scents.
“Wylan!” Mr Nilsson called from the counter, “I didn’t think you had an order!”
“Oh, I don’t, but I was hoping you could spare me some yellow carnations? They’re for the Season Ball.”
Mr Nilsson gave a knowing smile. “Ah, of course, everyone’s favourite time of year!”
“Hmm.”
Wylan managed to get ahold of the carnations without too much conversation from Mr Nilsson. They obscured his range of vision, no doubt making him look like some hapless messenger running errands. If he had any dignity before this moment, surely it was gone by now.
He slammed into someone, and the yellow carnations went tumbling in their boxes.
“Hey watch where you’re-” He looked up. “Jesper Fahey,” he seethed.
The grey-eyed boy smiled so sarcastically Wylan could practically taste his scorn. “Wylan.”
Wylan scrambled to pick up the carnations.
“Your mother has you running errands, hm?”
Wylan rolled his eyes. “I offered.”
“Not like you to do something out of the good in your heart,” Jesper snipped.
Wylan sniffed. “I’ll be on my way.”
“Let me help, otherwise, you going to make more of a fool of yourself than you already have.”
“I’m perfectly capable of managing a few flowers, Fahey.”
“Clearly not.”
“You are insufferable.”
“The feeling is mutual, Hendriks.”
Jesper decided not to help with the carnations, instead choosing to walk annoyingly close to Wylan as he fumbled with the yellow blossoms.
“You’re going to have to improve on your balance if you’re participating in the Season this year, Wylan.” He smirked. “Nobody likes a clumsy dancer.”
“I’m plenty graceful, Fahey. Anyway, I suggest you work on your own poise. After all, it was you who slammed into me.”
“It’s rather ironic, I find, that you are lecturing me about elegance, as you stand with paint on your nose.”
“I was in a hurry.”
“As was I, until you ran into me.”
They reached the grand doors of the Hendriks manor. Jesper knocked in that frustratingly, easy, brisk way of his. Marya answered.
“Oh, Wylan!” She said, “you’re back.” She looked to Jesper with a smile. “And you brought Jesper. How nice!” Jesper gave a smile that made Wylan want to roll his eyes to the back of his head. “Why don’t you come inside?”
Jesper shook his head. “Oh, no, I can’t stay, though I’m sure the company would be delightful.” A disdainful glance was thrown Wylan’s way.
“Perhaps tomorrow evening, you and your parents might dine with us?”
Upon seeing the horror on Wylan’s face, Jesper’s lips curled into a crescent. “That would be wonderful, Marya.”
“Tomorrow night then. We’ll be expecting you!”
Jesper waved and lolloped across the street, no doubt a gloriously smug grin on his stupid face, Wylan thought.
Marya took some of the carnations from Wylan’s cradled arms and set them on the circular table on the entrance hall.
“Lady Starkov is sending someone to pick them up tomorrow.”
“Lady Starkov best thank me for playing errand boy for the day.”
“It can’t have been that bad,” Marya told him.
“You have no idea. First of all, Fahey ran into me and then had the audacity to suggest that it was my fault. Then, he threw insults in my face. And now, we’ve invited him to dinner,” Wylan snapped.
“But he’s so sweet,” his mother simpered.
“Hm. That’s what you think.”
“God, Wylan, the boy’s not some nine-headed monster.”
“No, but he’s so annoying!” Wylan wailed.
“Pull yourself together,” Marya groaned, “we’ve invited the Faheys over for dinner tomorrow, and that is the end of that.”
Wylan muttered something incoherent as he made his way upstairs to finish his painting.