The Kaleidoscope, King's Court
Adelaide draped her arm through Chrysanthe’s, easily and lightly, smiling. “Oh, it is so good to see you again, Chrysanthe,” she said. “I’m so glad you let me know you were in the Rose.”
“I’m glad too,” Chrysanthe said, smiling. She leaned just a little back against Adelaide. “It’s not quite the same sending letters, is it?”
“No,” Adelaide giggled. “Although it was terribly exciting to get yours from Gior. It was so awful leaving Brunnhold, really; I feel as if I shan’t ever be as free as I was then. Oh! This way,” she lowered her arm, turning towards a beautiful stained glass window which shone out onto the walkway.
Chrysanthe followed Adelaide inside, glancing around. She was not quite sure what she had expected, when Adelaide suggested cocktails in the Rose. Had she been asked, she would have said she’d thought it rather like the Dives, but sandier and cooler. She still wasn’t quite sure she’d been wrong, but there was much more to it than she’d envisioned.
The Kaleidoscope was, perhaps, about as far from the dive bar she’d imagined as possible. It was an elegant little place, all dark wood paneling on the walls, with lantern-shades which matched the front window, different panels of colored glass welded together to create a soft, dazzling tapestry of light across the room. It might well have been unpleasant; it was not.
“Over here,” Adelaide touched her lightly on the arm with a smile.
Chrysanthe followed, conscious of a tingling in her stomach, pleasant and unexpected.
There were small booths set along the wall; it was one of these where Adelaide sat, hanging her coat up on the wall. Chrysanthe hung hers up as well, and sat opposite the other girl, smiling.
Adelaide’s dark, curly red hair was all pinned up; a few had escaped, whether deliberately or accidentally, to frame the smooth pale skin of her face, with so few of the freckles characteristic of most Anaxi. She had, Chrysanthe thought, the loveliest eyes; she had always though so, even back in the days when she hadn’t in the least understood what it mean.
“So,” Chrysanthe said.
“Well,” Adelaide began.
They both stopped; Chrysanthe smiled, and Adelaide smiled too. “Let me get us some drinks,” she said. Before Chrysanthe could protest she was up and making her way across the room, the skirt of her elegant cyan-colored dress swishing softly around her legs.
Chrysanthe took a deep breath, glancing down at herself. She had worn the best suit she’d brought to the Rose, even though she had known how silly it was, really. It was warm brown silk, a trim, well-tailored jacket which didn’t hang about her shoulders but framed them properly, and a long skirt in the same color. The white blouse beneath with a little lace color completed the look, or so she’d hoped, looking in the mirror at the boarding house.
Her hair was up; she’d braided a crown around her head, as Amaryllis had taught her so long ago, and then braided it into all the rest, and woven it up at the back of her head.
“There,” Adelaide said, a little breathless; she settled back across the table, her hands resting lightly on the surface of it. “Gin fizz all right? I ought to have asked, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s perfect,” Chrysanthe said, smiling. She reached out, setting her hand lightly on Adelaide’s.
Adelaide grinned, too; there was just the faintest touch of color in her pale cheeks. She smiled; Chrysanthe smiled too, as breathless as the other woman, and for a moment they simply looked at one another across the table.