Page 12 of Beauty Reborn
“Astra asks for things your mother cared for,” he said. “Callista too, for the most part. But you have neither their interests nor mine. Philosophy, you said?”
“Like the great scholar, Archelaus.” I snuggled into his lap.
“Wasn’t he killed?”
“Stoned, yes. Because he taught that wealth disrupts the natural harmony of the world and should be forsaken. Rich people didn’t like that.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Father grunted. He wrapped his arms around me and sighed. “I don’t care much for philosophy. There’s no need for speculation that leads us away from God’s commands.”
“Oh, Papa, please!” I knew he couldn’t resist when I called him Papa. “I can still pray even if I want to learn the limits of the universe, can’t I?”
“So long as you remember that God has no limits.”
“I remember, I remember.”
He let me have my way, as he always did, and sometimes when my instructor came to the house, Father would sit by the door and listen. Never said a word, just listened.
“I’ll admit,” he told me, “I can’t see the value in debating nothing, but it does my heart good to see you so diligent.”
“It’s not a debate of ‘nothing,’” I said. “It’s a debate of how nothing must come from nothing itself, and therefore—”
He kissed my forehead. “You’re my daughter even if you confound me, Beauty. If it enlivens your mind, keep at it.”
My instructor brought me stories and philosophies from the great cities. He had studied in schools with students of Archelaus and Cleo, and he taught me the importance of impartial, rational observation, of drawing my conclusions not only from my senses and experience but from the limitless space of objective possibility. I drank in every idea, read his writing and copied it in my own hand until every concept found a home in my mind and attitude.
Ironic, then, how Stephan slipped right in. I considered myself a master of rationality, but when it came to him, rationality played no part in my decisions.
Such as the evening Astra confronted us at the baron’s harvest banquet.
Stephan and I had slipped away from the main event, and Astra followed us to a secluded balcony, her cheeks flaring as red as the sunset, though she usually tried so hard to maintain composure in Stephan’s company.
“It’s indecent!” she hissed at me, grabbing for my hand to pull me away.
But Stephan had my other hand, and of the two, there was no contest.
“Jealous, Astra?” he asked.
She released me like dropping a coal from the fire.
“I’m the eldest daughter, my lord,” she said at last, the meaning clear. There should be no cause for jealousy. I could make no claim to a man until she and Callista had made theirs. Anything I experienced was stolen, rightfully hers.
I believe she half-expected him to realize the fault of his actions right there, to drop my hand as she had and take hers instead, apologizing all the while for every misunderstanding thus far.
But his answer was quite the opposite.
He drew me to him, our heat colliding in fire across my lips.
A rational mind would have remembered Cleo’s theory of harmful pleasures. A rational mind would have remembered that one swallow does not make a summer.
But the fire on my tongue burned out the rationality, immolated every word of wisdom in a heat that consumed me to my core.
Chapter
5
Iwas always cold in the castle. It had been summer at the cottage, heavy and warm, but the castle had the bite of spring in the air, increased with the onset of night. And with all that empty air inside the walls, any warmth that may have existed floated up to the vaulted ceilings and cradled painted cherubim, leaving me in the chill.
I sought sunlight where I could and fireplaces where I could not. My wardrobe offered me furs so bulky only a horse could be expected to carry them. I declined. It drooped.
