“Theo, do you know where the teal ribbons are? Vera says she won’t wear the white ones,” Sylvie called from the next room.
“They’re next to the keys,” Theo mumbled between hairpins.
Getting ready was normally fine. The older girls could dress themselves, and Theo could help the younger ones get ready, but that wouldn’t do for the Equinox. He was not giving Priest Boothe a single reason to make offhand comments about his sibilings’ appearances.
He’d done what he could the night before. He’d made the kids pick outfits, redone braids and locks, and made sure everyone had bathed and practiced their prayers, but it wasn’t enough. It never was. The day was always chaotic. Somebody would suddenly hate the outfit they’d chosen last weekend (Rose refused to wear a skirt, even though she’d chosen the skirt last week and they didn’t have any pants in the right color). Somebody would panic over something they couldn’t find (Opal had been sobbing over how she couldn’t wear the sheep cloak pin, they had to find the cow cloak pin). Lewis was insisting that it wasn’t enough Theo and Sylvia stopped buying pork, he wouldn’t go to the dinner if any pig was served, so he’d spent half an hour messaging his father’s maids about removing the roast pig from the banquet. And, of course, Jeremiah was sobbing, because they couldn’t leave him with a sitter. It didn’t matter if he was too young for a five hour feast. Saints forbid a single one of his father’s children not be present for the feast.
Well, his father’s recognized children.
Tammie had been doing admirably. He’d thought she might shut herself away or go into a temper, but she seemed to be dealing with things with admirable grace. Theo didn’t blame any of them for being moody. He knew none of them were actually upset about the clothes or the accessories. Hell, he wanted to throw a tantrum himself, but Tammie was determined to be useful. She was rinsing the cloak Jeramiah spit up on, holding him on a hip and singing.
“Alright Opal,” he said, turning her towards the mirror and sliding in a butterfly hairpin. “What do you think?”
Opal nodded approvingly.
“I’m beautiful,” she said seriously.
“You are,” he told her. “How about you go pack up your drawing kit?”
She nodded and Theo went over to Tammie.
“Hey Tam. Thanks for being such a big help today.”
“Didn’t have anything else going on,” she said.
“You know, if you ever decide you want to come, I’ll make it happen. Don’t get me wrong, it’s horrible and boring, but you’re family.”
“Are you kidding? I have a chance to skip that bullshit. You all should be jealous of me. I get the whole place to myself tonight.” She looked away, scrubbing harder. “But thanks. It would be pretty funny to see you yell at Marius.”
He leaned over to kiss the top of her head.
“Love you. Don’t break too much, okay?”
She rubbed her hair where he’d kissed.
“Geez, I’m not six.”
The ride over was manners review, which Theo left to Sylvie. She’d mastered the skill.
Theo’s manners themselves were fine; nine years of tutoring had made sure of that. The problem was his inability to impress the importance of manners. He thought of manners in terms of appeasing egos and being bound by tradition.
For example, Lewis was currently asking why it even mattered if they used the right fork for the right dish.
The reason, Theo thought, was that manners functioned as a show of respect and as a class barrier.
The reason that was important tonight was because Saint Booth, his father's employer and Theo’s grand uncle, was hosting tonight’s dinner.
Saint Booth was one of the few people in the world who had loved their mother, Sylvia. She’d been a difficult woman to love. The marriage had been political. Saint Booth had been able to find a husband for his bitter, dying niece, and their father had gone from Marius Potter, son of a furniture merchant, to Marius Dryden, the right hand of a saint.
Saint Booth had never approved of Marius’ second wife. Tizri was not rich, titled, or even born in Dalgerra, but she was young, beautiful, and willing to marry a cold, busy older man for money. Marius had once told Theo that he’d married Tizri because he deserved a well behaved, dutiful wife after a decade and a half married to ‘that bitch’.
That meant the younger Drydens were in a difficult position, though a better one than the handful of bastards their father had conceived between wives. To the saint, they were a chance to prove Tizri was unfit for their society. Any flaw was proof of their inherent bad breeding, any merit proof of Sylvie and Theo’s influence.
Their father would not defend the children. To him, his children’s flaws were an embarrassment to his own reputation, and he expected nothing less than perfection.
If it was just that, Theo would tell his siblings to skip the lessons about bows and jewelry. Saint Booth would never approve of Tizri’s children, and their father had no love in him. They were kids, and Theo would happily leave the old men to their petty feuds like he did the rest of the year.
Unfortunately, there was the same problem there always was, the eternal knife hanging over Sylvie and Theo’s heads. Theo’s income was enough to cover their own bills, even with Sylvie’s medicine, but it wasn’t enough to care for six children, seven soon. Beyond that, Tizri and Marius were still the legal parents. Without proof of abuse, the kids could be taken away any moment.
Theo could never allow that. Even though their parent’s relationship was less tempestuous than his own’s, even if Tizri calmed their father’s temper enough to spare her children from the worst of Sylvie and Theo’s childhood, that wasn’t enough. Tizri devoted herself to controlling their father’s moods, and that left no time to raise children. They would be unwanted in that house, bounced between nannies and tutors that Marius would fire at the slightest complaint.
Sometimes, he wanted to call their bluff. Would Marius reclaim custody of children he didn’t even care about just because their holiday dinner manners weren’t up to his standards? Just because they gave Saint Booth an excuse for a few snide comments?
Of course he would.
But you couldn’t tell the children that. Sylvie and Theo were the adults, and it was their job to carry that fear. The children shouldn’t grow up afraid their home might be taken away any instant.
Which was to say, it was better to let Sylvie smile and act as if she actually cared about the difference between a salad fork and a dessert fork.
He checked their clothes as they got out of the car, trying not to show his own nerves.
They did look adorable, in little matching black cloaks and silver embroidery of leaves and birds, but the scene was still depressing. It was hard to believe these were his chaotic, energetic siblings. They bowed on the way in and went to the hall where their parents were waiting.
“Father,” Theo said, bowing with the rest of his siblings. “I hope this equinox finds you at peace.”
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