An Affinity For Fire

3. Clover

Clover was never one to miss an opportunity for free food, even if it meant sneaking into a royal party uninvited. Usually, it was hard for her to go unnoticed in a crowd of curly-haired brunets, but with the house filled with visiting Dormisian servants, her own pale hair would blend in for once, and with any luck, no-one would notice her. Besides, Tarry would be there. If she was talking to a Lord, she wouldn't look out of place.

Technically, Clover Cadarn was a Lady, although she'd never viewed herself as one. Her and her father lived in the Ribs, the region of Ortus home to the nameless and those who were noble, but not noble enough to be deemed massively important. There had never been any question of her getting married off and she had nothing to inherit but her father's small area of land and the Cadarn name.

Straightening out the olive-green dress she'd pulled from the back of her wardrobe and tightening the embroidered floral scarf around her neck, she strutted through the front door.

It didn't take her long to discover that a vast majority of the guests and servants were gathered in the garden. Since she couldn't see either Tarry or any Canapés, she swiftly made the decision to remain inside, away from the crowds. She headed for the kitchen and, when none of the cooks were looking, quietly stole an apple from the fruit bowl. She was on her way out the door when a familiar voice called her back.

"Clover?"

She turned on her heels, hiding the stolen apple behind her back. To her relief, the owner of the voice was a familiar dark-haired woman with a warm smile.

Lady Peony Versenna was one of few older nobles who had not fallen too dispising Clover's mother. For that, she would be endlessly grateful.

"Lady Versenna! What are you doing in the kitchen?"

"Helping out with the cooking. Tarragon didn't tell me you were invited."

Clover blushed slightly. "I wasn't. I'm trying to keep a low profile."

Tarragon's mother grinned. "You mischievous little minx. I suppose you're looking for him?"

Clover perked up, nodding eagerly.

"He ran in here not long ago asking for some water to wash out a stain. I told him to go to the well at the back of the garden."

She smiled. "Thank you, Lady Versenna. The cakes look beautiful, by the way!" She hurried out of the kitchen and bit into the apple, trying not to get juice down her chin.

As promised, Tarry was leaning against the well, splashing his shirt with water from the bucket and rubbing it into a large, unsightly red mark.

"What in all Hells did you do, get stabbed?" she asked, resting her elbows on the well.

He raised his dark eyes, frustration etched across his face. "What are you even doing here?"

She shrugged and took another bite. "Free food," she said through a mouthful.

"Well, sorry to ruin your plans, but that apple is all you're going to get. It's a sit-down meal, not a buffet. You need a seat."

She frowned, dissappointed. "So, what happened?"

The boy sighed. "I met Marram's fiance-to-be."

Clover winced. "Ah. I take it the two of you aren't getting off on the right foot."

"He walked into me then acted like it was my fault. I was standing still! He wasn't looking where he was going. Then he asked me that they call me."

Clover pressed her hand to her chest in mock horror. "Oh, deary me! Someone wants to know your name!"

"He didn't ask for my name, he asked what I was called, as if I was too low born to have a legal name."

"Alright, so maybe he just mistook your class. Why does that bother you so much?"

"Usually, it wouldn't," he insisted. "But it wasn't a mistake. He did it on purpose. At a party like this, everyone is either noble or a servant."

"Still sounds snobby to me," she concluded.

He muttered something inaudible and turned his attention back to the stain.

Clover rolled her eyes. "You're never going to get wine out with water."

"It's blackberry juice," he corrected. "You know I don't drink."

"That won't be any easier to wash out," she said. "Here, just cover it up." She unravelled her scarf and held out to him.

He didn't take it. "You'll get cold," he argued.

"It's not even chilly, I'll be fine." She stretched her arm out further.

"Seriously? I'm freezing."

"Well, then it sounds like you need it more than I do," she said with a triumphant smile.

"I am not wearing a woman's scarf."

"Oh, don't be such a Princess."

Tarry cast a nervous glance around the garden. "Be careful where you say that. Half the guests here are princesses."

"Yes, and half of those Princesses don't know me or care what I have to say."

Reluctantly, he gave in and took the scarf.

"Honestly," Clover said, grinning. "I supply the food, I supply the clothes, where would you be without me?"

His firm frown faltered for a moment, a trace of a smile emerging in the corner of his mouth. He adjusted the scarf so that it covered the stain.

"You look perfectly dashing, my esteemed Lord Versenna," Clover said in a smooth, haughty voice. "Even if it does make you look vaguely like a woman."

"Oh, shut up," Tarry said through a laugh. "I was just starting to warm to the look."

Clover felt a rush of smug satisfaction at the sight of the boy's genuine smile. She'd become fairly accustomed to deciphering the ever-changing mood of Lord Tarragon Versenna. He was skilled in faking a smile, but only the real ones made his nose wrinkle. There weren't many people who could do that to his face, and she knew it.

"So, if I can't be part of this party, what am I supposed to do?"

"Ooh, you could help my mother in the kitchens," he suggested. "They're really busy in there."

"Urgh. Work. Not exactly what I had in mind." Then the thought of a room full of food being rushed forwards and backwards made her reconsider. "Although, on second thought, if I'm needed it would be selfish to refuse."

Tarry's enthusiasm quickly faded. "Please resist the urge to eat everything."

Clover gasped. "Honestly, Tarry, I'm wounded that you would even suggest such a thing."

"Oh, come on, as if that wasn't your immediate plan."

She gave him another of her wicked smirks. "I refuse to dignify that disgusting accusation with a response." She turned on her heels and waltzed off towards the kitchens, leaving Tarry to fear for the fate of the food alone.