Week 11

September 15

I had my first date with my husband last night; he as Farmer Bohn, and me as Architect-in-distress Danae. I had spent all day rehearsing my financial woes, and then I realized that this was not appropriate conversation for a first date. (At least, not for the first thirty minutes or so.) To stop myself from panicking, I occupied myself with wondering if my husband thought of it as a date. No doubt, he has dated in his Farmer Bohn persona. I think he even has a dead wife somewhere in his storyline. In real life, though, he has a wife and a mistress. Is he just insatiable, or is dating a chore -- something he does to keep up his farmer persona? I imagine that it’s probably something in between. 

I did enjoy myself more than I thought I would, though Farmer Bohn remarked that I seemed a bit sad. Then he started talking about death and grief and I almost thought he knew that Danae was dead, before I realized that he was talking about our supposed mutual widowhood. I’m on a date with my husband, and we’re both playing characters who are widowed. It’s almost funny.

I didn’t date that much, in Winter. I was too tomboyish, and then just as I was growing an interest in dating, I came here and got married. There was a boy that I loved when I was in my early teens, but it was less romantic than just plain love. There was no sex involved. I barely realized that he was a boy and I don’t even know if he knew I was a girl. He was just so smart and funny. He could take me to a different place and time when he told me stories. He couldn’t climb a tree as fast as I could, but he could dissect things in biology without barfing and he had enough class to not pretend like he was going to eat the entrails, like the other boys did….

There’s something comforting about going on a date in disguise. I think it’s why masked balls have been so popular throughout history. There’s that anonymity, that cushion of knowing that you can relax because you’re not really you. As myself, I can’t smile or laugh. As Danae, I did both, though not often. As myself, I can’t cry or even frown. I have to be like a statue -- fierce in my indifference. My persona as a Winterian gets tiresome because it does not suit me. To be able to play someone with warmer tones, softer gestures, a milder tone of voice -- it was so relaxing, it was almost like being asleep.

Bohn asked Danae about her daughter, and I choked up, describing the little girl. I thought of her as the little girl I met for the first time, who tackled me with such vivacity -- and then again, as she was today. I sent her to her room to pick up her homework so that I could help her with it, and she obeyed. She didn’t object, even internally, and she wasn’t excited. I remember that that close to a death, just breathing is a chore. Moving legs to walk, opening and closing a mouth to speak -- they are habits that we’ve picked up over a lifetime, but they have no meaning when so much of your soul has been torn out that you don’t know who you are, let alone what you should be doing.

Bohn chalked up my excess of emotion as motherly pride, and I let him. Then he told me about his wish for children. This shocked me for two reasons; one was that his farmer persona should be sterile, so that he can explain away the reason he does not have children. The other, was the idea that my husband wanted children. If he was speaking truthfully, then my plan to seduce him and get pregnant, is not a bad one. Or, not as bad as I once thought. But I wonder if he is sterile. There certainly aren’t any illegitimate heirs to the thrown running around the castle. Summer folk aren’t shy about mentioning that sort of thing -- especially the catty women at court who hate me.

Tomorrow was supposed to be the last day for my mother and cousins to be here, but they’ve decided to stay another week. Actually, Mother has decided to stay another week. She has also decided that my cousins are going to stay forever. I haven’t seen any of my cousins privately, since they’ve arrived. They were immediately incorporated into the court, and they are hardly distinguishable from the rest of the ladies of the house. They are slightly kinder to me than the majority of the ladies, but it’s obvious that the only reason for this is out of respect for my mother. Two of my cousins seem to be on the verge of marriage proposals, a situation which is highly scandalous and heavily anticipated. The third cousin, the one I would have assumed would have had sixteen proposals by the third day, has gotten a surprisingly cold reception.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Cecily was the Winterest Winterian you could ever meet. She gloried in our violent history, and could tell as story that would make the hardest warrior take the food back out of their mouth, when she described a battle. (Rehashing famous battles during mealtimes at parties is a favorite Winterian pastime.)  All of the qualities she had in Winter, the ones that made us, basically, enemies, work against her here. She’s too stiff, too cold. The other cousins are intriguingly austere. Cecily could give frostbite to the toughest Winterian. She used to sneer at me for failing to embody Winter culture. Now we are both rejected for not being able to adapt to Summer culture. I wonder if she will go back with my mother in a week. I’ll ask Mother tomorrow morning. It’s not as though she’ll confide in me.

September 16

Last night I had this dream. It was like doing a trapeze act. I’d grab hold of the bar, and swing, and when I let go, I’d float up, and then down, and just before I fell, my husband would catch me. Only, in the dream, there was no bar. I was just floating up, then down. And my husband wasn’t on a bar either. He’d catch me in an embrace, and then I’d be floating up again. So, all night long, I’m dreaming this floating, falling, catching dream. And when I fall, just before I start to get scared, he catches me. I don’t even have enough time to be afraid, and then I’m in his arms. Then I’m flying by myself again.

If I was Danae, it would probably be easier to understand the dream. After all, I’m expecting my husband to play a large part in rescuing her family and situation. But it was odd to feel so comfortable with the idea of him holding me. When I think about it when I’m awake, I get jittery and excited. But it was so comfortable, last night, all night long. 

Eliava gave me Danae’s old architecture books to go over. I’m pretty good at math, my minor was in business, but I just don’t get the whole architecture thing. I mean, I like pretty buildings, and I certainly appreciate the palace and the fact that everything is not made of ice, but just looking over lists of materials for drawings, materials for buildings – I was overwhelmed. I hadn’t given Danae a lot of credit for intelligence because she had lost her business in the first place, and because she was too timid to stand up to Simms, but the girl had to have had a brain. I’ve looked at some of her blueprints, and newspaper articles and pictures of the finished product. Actually, she helped modify the palace and the additions are seamless. I would have thought they’d been here for as long as the rest of the place.

Also, I watched some interviews with Danae. She was animated and articulate and personable. Some of the interviews were from before she met her husband, and some were after she married him, but the difference is remarkable. Before she married, she was energetic, but a little wild. After she married and started her business, she was still vibrant, but more controlled, focused. By the time I met her, she was limp. Her personality was gray and lifeless. It must have been difficult for her mother to see the change in her daughter. I wonder if Zahina was old enough to be able to recognize the difference. For Zahina, it must have been like losing two parents, instead of one, when her father died.

That day in the cave, Danae was like the woman in the interviews. She spoke faster, she laughed loudly. Her energy filled the cave – That was how she could have been again, after she got her business back, and her home. As sorry as I am that Zahina lost the mother that she remembers, I’m even sorrier that she’ll miss out on who her mother was becoming again. Loss can shake our faith, and our view of ourselves, but in the end we can come back to ourselves, if we think doing so is important enough. I think Danae was just on the cusp of that. I wish she could have stuck around so that I could see it. I know her mother would have been so happy to see the way Danae was that day.

Farmer Bohn asked Danae out again. I’m not sure why. I did look pretty, Adora made sure of that. And I tried to be somewhere between Danae’s lifeless and full-of-life personas, but I’m still not sure what draws him to me. I wonder if it’s me. When I was Danae’s mother in the pub, he came to me. Now he keeps asking me out. I wonder if some part of him knows that I’m his wife. I guess some romantic part of me wants to think that I don’t have to trick him into falling in love with me. 

I have to adopt Danae’s persona for now, but since she has changed so much over the years, I wonder if I could just incorporate my real personality into Danae’s. That way, for at least part of my life, I could wear my real face. I love the Winter in me – the fierce, tough villain, but I also love being feminine and wearing soft clothes and using a more temperate tone of voice. I wonder if this is why my husband does his Farmer Bohn act. I know that his farmer persona is useful so that he can keep an involved presence in current events, but I wonder if he gets to be more who he is when he’s someone else, than when he’s king. There is comfortableness to him, when he is Bohn, which is missing when he is king. I guess not having to monitor every word and gesture can have a relaxing effect on a body.

Cecily joined me and Mother for breakfast, this morning. I had not noticed from a distance, but she looks tired and strained. Part of being a good Winterian is a rigidity of spirit, but I wonder if that rigidity is working against her here. Even a fierce Winterian like my mother knows when to be flexible. I don’t think Cecily ever learned that – now she’s getting a crash course. 

September 17

Three of my cousins -- two from my father’s side of the family, one who I thought was from my mother’s side of the family -- are visiting from Winter. Cecily, Staejha, and Jea.

Cecily was the typical, nay, the prototypical Winterian who could out-frown, out-freeze, and out-disgust anyone. It’s odd, but kind of gratifying to see her out in the cold, now. She does not fit into Summer the way everyone probably thought she would. She always seemed like the unbeatable force in our age group, and older, and I think everyone probably thought she’d be the best Summerian the way she’s the best Winterian. The best is the best, after all. But she, like everyone else, has strengths and weaknesses. She has spend her entire life building up Winter strengths. I wonder what effect Summer is having on her. She is the only one to join me and my mother for breakfast every morning, and she seems almost relieved to have the company.

Staejha was always the nicest of the three. As a child, she was either ridiculed or coddled because of her penchant for being emotional. I was emotional too, and she didn’t like sharing the attention. She is doing very well in Summer, better than either of the other girls. She is the best at playing soft, whilst securing the center of attention. That was a talent she cultivated in Winter, that is allowing her to flourish in Summer. Of the three, she showed me the most kindness, aside from the rivalry. I suppose we were kindred spirits at some point. But since I have to be even a fiercer Winterian than even Cecily ever tried to be, Staejha barely makes eye contact with me, and seems embarrassed to be associated with me.

Jea, my mother’s niece (so-called) is the only one who is the same in Summer as she was in Winter. She is pleasantly cool, like an autumn breeze on a spring day. She is neither hot nor cold, but ranges slightly between warm and cool. Jean can be charming, but she is also difficult to know. I never got the impression that she hated me like Cecily, or saw me as a rival like Ana, but she never confided in me, nor I in her. The only secret that I really know about Jea is the soft spot she has for animals. She always did the half-hearted “I only have animals because they’re vicious” and she was particularly inventive in describing what was so fierce about a turtle or a dove, enough that she didn’t really get teased about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jea’s parents were actually from Spring or Autumn, or both, and settled in Winter, because she has that laid back, earthy way about her. She was never overly concerned with what her peers thought of her, but she made enough of an effort to fit in. The result was that she was highly popular and sought after. She always had a hundred people surrounding her, or wanting to be seen with her, but never any closed friends. 

Anyway, one day my mother was visiting her sister (ha!) and in trying to avoid Jean, I was out in the garden, and turned a corner and found her crying over an injured penguin. The thing had had most of its wing torn off and was bleeding profusely. Cashmere, Jea’s wolf was crouched nearby, growling, and casting woebegone looks at his mistress. Cashmere had thought he’d done such a good job, and that his master would be proud of him. He’d slink back against Jea’s baleful glare, confused at her anger and frustrated that he hadn’t been able to finish his work on the penguin. Penguin meat is something that we eat a lot of in Winter, sort of like how Summerians like chicken. I helped her scoop up snow to stop the bleeding, and then we hid the injured penguin, who Jea named Wool, until it had recovered enough to live on its own again. Apparently, Wool could swim well enough, even with one flipper, and dive for fish, and everything like that. 

I hadn’t realized that Jea was what they call in Spring, a vegetarian, until after this incident, but she still doesn’t eat meat here, and neither will anyone who sits near her, because of her graphic Winter tongue. I find myself privileged to know this secret of hers, and I feel just as drawn to her now as I, and a thousand other kids, did when I was younger. She’s still as impenetrable, yet charming, as she ever was. She is, here too, surrounded by a constant group of people, but no particular friends. I think she still resents me for knowing her secret. She certainly never mentioned in or out of polite company, and it is only my need to seem cool about it that keeps me from bringing it up. 

Anyway, Cecily has no suitors whatsoever, not even the Wanderlusts will touch her. Staejha has one or two pretty interested gentlemen, and Jea has scads of men falling all over themselves for her, to different degrees of madness. I think some of them just realize that she is impossible to reach, and won’t even try, though they’re drawn to her as well. I remember Jea reading poetry (ghastly stuff, of course) when we were younger, and of course she had a thousand eager ears to catch every drop of blood that dripped from her lips, but she stopped reading her poetry when we were still in higher education, and now she’s an accountant. 

I don’t doubt that Staejha will be happy to settle here in Summer, where she is less special, but more welcome than she was in Winter. Cecily will do her Winter duty, or die trying, so I see her staying. Jea is a mystery as usual. Not only do I not know what she will do, I can’t even guess at the amount of pleasure she will derive in doing it. She could marry a man, spend and entire lifetime with him, and he would never really know her. The idea makes me sad. I do hope she finds a fellow who provokes her, at some point. I’d like to myself, but I’m far too in awe of her to do that.

September 18

Just when I get a handle on my life, a new day arises, and I am floored, again, by the interminable unexpectedness that each day brings. The mysterious, charismatic, untouchable Jea came to me today. Her face was softer than I remembered, though her persona floated around her like invisible cloaks; veiling, then revealing separate aspects of her self, though never for long, and never the whole. 

I was lying on my gold-laced white marble bed, in one of the cool but fierce-looking Summer nightgowns that Adora made for me. Her knock awoke me, and I’d barely enough time to open my eyes before she spoke. “I’m pregnant,” she said, her eyes, like molasses being poured from a pitcher – honeyed highlights dancing upon an almost black ocean. She sat then, or floated rather, onto a cushioned chair that Adora likes to use when she visits me. It was about four in the morning, and the Summer sun was already streaming through the windows. “You’ve been my only confidant,” she continued, in her low, smoked-honey voice that never changed in tone or rate whether angry or joyful. “So….” She looked down at the shadows playing on her trembling hands.

A sleepy and confused “Uh…” was my eloquent reply. My first reaction was to be flattered that she thought of me as her confidant. It must have been the Wool incident which she was referring to, though my second emotion was sadness for her. We were twelve when that happened, and she’d barely spoken to me since then. Then I wondered if she was flattering me, so that I would help her. I sat up, leaning against the smooth curved marble of my headboard. “Who is the father?” I blearily assumed that he must have been some Winter fellow, because she certainly hadn’t been able to form any close connections in the three weeks that she had been visiting. This would have explained her cool persona, even though she was here specifically to become engaged. We’d have to get her married before she started to show, or else smuggle her back to Winter, or maybe Spring or Autumn….

“Samson Delilah.”

If I hadn’t been sitting a foot-and-a-half from the edge of the bed, I may have fallen off of it. Fortunately, the size of the bed makes up for the hardness of it. “Samson,” I said. Samson was probably the most determined flirt in court. He’d named himself after a tragic love affair between a power hungry woman and a weak man. Delilah is well-respected in Winter. Samson, not so much. Jea had never shown any more interest in Samson Delilah than she had in any other wooer, and probably less, now that I thought of it. But if she’d been having an affair with him, then maybe she’d had some in Winter that no one knew about. “Are you sure it’s Samson, not someone from back home?”

“Of course I am,” she said in that same slow, quiet voice, although her words may have been more clipped than usual. Her cheeks were a bit pinker, too, I noted. “I was a virgin when I arrived here.”

I was aghast.  Winter women lose their virginity at a young age, several years before marriage. How had she managed – and then – “You’ve only been here for three weeks,” I said. “Are you sure you’re pregnant?”

She sighed, pink cheeks turning to red, and looked away. “Yes. I borrowed one of Cecilia’s tests. Then I borrowed two more.”

“Oh my gosh.” How were we going to deal with this? Samson Delilah was a slut, but he had no money, no job – and Jea’s family had a nice house and land, but only in Winter. They were gently impoverished – enough to live on, assuming Jea married rich and soon.

“It’s not like she was using them.” Now she sounded defensive, though I wasn’t sure how, since her tone didn’t change. “Besides, she brought so many, I’m sure she won’t miss them.”

I laughed. “All right,” I said, processing the fact that no Winter man had divested her of her pure panties in twenty-one years, but a Summer man had managed it in – “How far along are you?”

“Two weeks.”

“A week?” I exclaimed, doing the math.

“No.” She frowned. “Two weeks.”

“Right,” I said, trying to catch up to the conversation. I looked at her. “Don’t worry. There’s plenty of time to decide what you want to do about this.”

“Oh,” she said calmly, this time with no hint of anything but assurance in her voice. “I know exactly what I want to do. I want to marry him.”

I blinked. “That’s doable. That’s what you’re here for, right?”

She snorted, but gently, lady-like, and I stared. “My parents would not allow it. He has no money, and no prospect of a career.”

“Surely he’s educated,” I said. Summerians take education as seriously as Winterians, and there is no major in Romance.

“He’s an architect,” she said. She sighed. “You should see his drawings.”

“Great,” I said. I could hire him to be Danae’s new architect for the firm if he couldn’t find a job somewhere else.

“No.” Jea sighed again. “No one will hire him. He has no experience, only education, and his reputation as a ladies’ man precludes him from getting hired. Men worry that he’ll seduce their wives, and women are worried that he’ll seduce their staffs.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I—” I almost said that I had a friend who could help, but I’m not supposed to have friends here. “I’ll see what I can do. Give me a week.”

She looked at me, silently. I wondered if the veils of persona she used to obscure herself,  worked both ways. I hoped so. Finally, she gave me a small smile. “I trust you.” She nodded, as if to herself, and stood to leave. She moved toward the door, but before she reached it, she turned back to me. “You’ve always been the one with this bag of solutions for everyone’s problems.” She regarded me with those eyes, which though she was in shadow, still seemed to glow. “Perhaps it’s selfish, but I keep hoping that I’ll find some way to be able to return the favors that you so freely grant to everyone else.” Her face, still in shadow, looked rueful. “For some reason, I think of it as my responsibility.”

September 19

Jea’s assessment of my abilities to solve problems, set a confused glow about me. It wasn’t true; I have more problems than solutions, and I’ve never had a lot of friends so I don’t know who “everyone” is, but that she saw me that way was kind of nice. Of course, it occurred to me that she was just saying that to flatter me into helping her, but Jea has always been the flattered, not the flatterer -- and something about the way she looked at me, haunts me. There was only a hint, but I saw respect in her cat-glow eyes.

I can’t help but think that she’s got so many cousins, she’s got two of us confused, but I do have an easy solution for this particular problem. All I have to do is, as Danae, hire Samson Delilah to be an architect for my firm. My hearing is three days from now, and I’ve been preparing for it with Eliava and her lawyer. We’re as prepared as we can be, but I still need to contrive a way to escape court as myself so that I can enter it as Danae. My husband has already been giving me grief for missing court sessions this week, when I was meeting with the lawyer. Maybe I can put in an appearance, and then fall ill.

Danae’s lawyer’s name is Lawrence. His nickname is actually “Law” and he speaks in this barely coherent, yet highly impressive gibberish. I find my eyes glazing over sometimes, until he notices and stops to translate. He’s a nice looking man in his early fifties with dark hair that is growing gray at the temples. He has a studious manner, like an overage student, that lends him an air of innocence -- kind of like a genius child in a grown man’s body. He makes me homesick for my father. I think they would get along really well. If Mother hadn’t assured me that Father is indeed from Winter (and assuming she’s not lying), I would think they were brothers.

Mother and I had breakfast with Cecilia again this morning. She looks more miserable than every. Mother tried suggesting ways for Cecilia to try and soften her image but Ceci met all of these suggestions with scorn. She likes the way Winterians are. She believes all the hype about how tough we are and how we shouldn’t show weakness, and all of that stuff. She probably really does eat entrails and stuff. Everybody in Winter pretends to like to talk about guts and blood, because it keeps up the image of ferocity that we like to project. But few people actually take it to heart. They’re more than a little frightening, actually. And Ceci, outside of her element, seems even less appropriately vicious than she did at home.

I saw Zahina this afternoon. She approaches me with little enthusiasm and even less caution. It’s frightening to see the change in the girl. I know the only way to bring her back to life is to surround her with her loved ones and find ways to engage her. When she’s around Eliava, she does brighten a bit, but Eliava is so stricken that Zahina doesn’t get much help there. The only solution is to introduce Zahina to more people that she can love. Not that anyone could replace her mother, but she can’t expend the loving energy that she has on her mother anymore, so she needs new targets.

I encouraged her to bring some friends home, but she responded with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. I want to introduce her to Todd. He’s a few years older than she is, but he is a complete gem of a human being, and she could only benefit from making his acquaintance. She’s coming with me and her grandmother to the palace in a few days, so I’ll let her run around in the gardens for a while. Maybe she’ll bump into Todd, and he’ll show her some of the hidden gardens. She IS slightly excited about visiting the palace, but then she is a girl with the same “princess” fantasy that most of us have at that age.

I think the problem with me, is that by the time I was roped into being a queen, the glamour had already worn off. I knew from my parents that it wasn’t all about doing whatever you wanted all day long, and having people bring you stuff, and have to be your friend -- it was all politics, even worse than being a regular Winterian. But Zahina doesn’t have this jaded view of princesses and thinks that her adoptive auntie being a Queen is a completely awesome thing. If she were her old self, she’d probably be hard-pressed to keep it a secret, but as it is, she only suppressed a sigh, and said she understood. I guess it’s understandable -- if her mother were alive, she wouldn’t even know this secret.

I have another date with Farmer Bohn in a couple of days. I guess he likes me, though I can’t imagine why. Maybe my husband just gets his jollies by going out with widowed mothers who with a failing business and no way to pay the mortgage. Then again, I still didn’t reveal this stuff. Then I realized that I don’t have to. When I show up in court, he won’t recognize me, but maybe he’ll appreciate that fact that I didn’t dump my problems on him. And since Danae only knows the farmer and not the prince -- man, I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he recognizes me -- I mean, Danae.

September 20

I spent the entire day at the palace. I’m surprised at how much I missed Zahina and Eliava, and even Law and Farmer Bohn. I don’t like this life I’m living. It’s full of false faces and personas instead of people. It’s like a real life play, and the entire palace is the stage and the only way to step off of the stage is to leave the palace in disguise. Danae was more of a real person than I pretend to be every day. It’s almost impossible to talk myself into coming back here, and putting on this make-up and stiffening my hair and replacing my piercings. I have to leave behind all of the people who actually know who I really am, or at least, people who have a much better idea of who I am, than the ones I’m around every day.

Even my mother and my cousins treat me like the Ice Queen instead of like family. My mother looks at me, sometimes, like she knows the person behind the act, but then she says something that makes me realize that she’s looking at a younger version of me, rather than the current one. And my cousins never bothered to get to know me. Ceci was too busy thinking I was weak, and Jea was too lost in her air of mystery, and Staejha was too busy throwing a tantrum.

I finally realized the trait that they saw in me that made them pick me over anyone else to be queen; I’m a professional imposter. It doesn’t matter who I’m around, I adapt to their personalities. If they’re a leader, I’m a follower. If they’re quiet, I’m loud. If they’re funny, I’m the straight man. If they’re sweet, I’m tart. I’m the constant balance of whoever I’m around. 

And there’s something else too; people treat me like I’m a walking diary. Whoever has a problem, come to me. Does anyone ever ask me how I’m doing? Does anyone care if I’m okay? I miss Karen more than ever, at times like this. With Karen, she’s so unfocused and wild, that I can just relax, and whatever mood I’m in, I’m allowed to be in it. Whatever aspect of my personality I’m leaning toward, I can express it. She’s like a null. She doesn’t need me to be a listener, or a talker, or a joker, or an action taker. She doesn’t need me to fill the void in her self, because she is so busy being everything at once, that she doesn’t have any empty spot. Or, rather, whatever empty spots she has, she so busy filling them herself, that she doesn’t need me to.

Sure, she’s crazy and erratic and gets into a lot of trouble, but sometimes, I really envy the ability she has to cause so much chaos. We used to get into arguments, because I just could not understand why she had to act out so much. Why couldn’t she be calm, to conform? I understood, to a degree, because of my tendency to be overly emotional, but I never understood the compulsion to make drama just to get attention. I like the pat on the head, not the spank on the bottom. I can understand why Mother didn’t bring her. I smile, just thinking of the damage she would do to the family’s reputation in court. And the funny thing is, you never know what she’s going to do. She’s the opposite of me. Where there are tears, she creates laughter, and vice versa. I tend to be the opposite of other people, in order to create a balance, but her actions are so extreme that she causes chaos and drama where there isn’t any.

When we were small, I think she didn’t understand the ways of Winter, and she rebelled against them. She didn’t want to murder and pillage. She didn’t want to eat entrails. And it didn’t matter how calmly my parents explained the idea of pretending to her, she just didn’t get it. She is the remover of masks, the spirit of authenticity in a false world. And it doesn’t matter where you‘re from: Summer, Spring, Autumn, or Winter -- every planet has their cultural persona that they project to everyone else. Summer is warm and friendly, Winter cold and bitter. Spring and Autumn are both more temperate but Springians have a tendency to act flighty and Autumnians are a bit puritanical. Each planet has their symbols and colors and architectures and fashions, and it’s a way of life to play along.

If Karen had been born in Summer, she would have been colder than any Winterian. If she’d been born in Autumn, she would have been flightier than any Springian. I admire her for that, at the same time I fear for her. And it puzzles me. Why does she feel the need to act out so strongly, that she just can not go with the mode? When we were small, if I was in trouble, she would act out so that she would take the attention from me -- essentially taking my punishment. I wonder if it created such a habit in her to act out, that she can’t just behave normally. It’s a sad idea. Just as sad as the idea that I go along with the current set of rules, just so that I won’t incur a wrath or punishment. I wonder if I was only “good” so that I could keep Karen from taking my punishments.

September 21

I spent the entire day with Zahina today. She is excited about visiting the palace tomorrow. I’ve told her about the libraries with the golden ladders, and the bathing rooms with the marble tiles depicting mermaids and other sea creatures and the gardens with all of the trees and flowers. I told her about Todd, too, and the fantastic desserts that he makes from the berries in the garden. She said she was excited to meet him too.

It’s odd to see her so contained, even in her excitement, but I am glad to have her looking forward to something. She knows that if she sees me in my royal garb, she has to pretend not to know me. After “I” leave, she is supposed to stay with Adora and have dinner with the servant. I’m supposed to visit the gardens after dinner, so that she can converse with the Queen of Summer, and I’m curious as to her reaction. Will she see through the costume, or be fooled by it?

I had another date with Farmer Bohn again tonight. He kissed me on the cheek when we said goodnight. I can not make love to him as Danae, because then he will know me later, when I seduce him as his wife. I would hope so, anyway. So I kissed him back, shyly, and told him that I was still in love with my dead husband. I saw his half-grin flash, before he replaced it with a look of sympathy and understanding. I think my husband is a cad, and that he probably makes love to every woman he meets as Farmer Bohn. He certainly doesn’t seem to be worried at the idea that Danae isn’t removing her skirts any time soon.

After I got back from my date, I went for a stroll in the gardens. I was hoping to run into Todd so that I could tell him about Zahina coming to visit. Then I realized that I shouldn’t know about it, and that Danae is not known at the palace, so I turned back. I ran into him anyway. He is so much taller and stronger than when I first met him. He stands taller, and his eyes are lit with a confidence that makes me feel both gratified and jealous. I was glad, all over again, that his father was not an evil man, bent on destroying his family – but rather a man who had been put so far down throughout his life that he lashed out at those he loved – and that after being removed from the oppressive situation, he became a more loving father and, I presume, husband.

Todd’s mother seems to be doing well, too. I see her, sometimes, working in the garden. She owns a contentedness that she did not have before, and her section of the gardens is flourishing. Todd seems to run back and forth between the gardens and the kitchen, baking with what he harvests from the gardens. I think if someone had offered them this solution before I arrived, I would have looked at the idyllic family they represented, and have resented them, dismissing them as free of the hardships I’ve suffered. I’d presume to call Todd’s parents my friends, but Todd is, certainly. I think I have earned a loyalty from all of them which was only the best-case scenario when I arrived, and not one that I thought likely. Though, since I must maintain my icy persona, they do not know of the affection they have garnered in my heart – aside from Todd, who is one of the few who see past my persona. 

And even he can not get to know who I really am, because I can not act how I really am. I wonder, if I visit the gardens tomorrow, as Danae, if he would recognize me. I’m tempted to try it, but if he did know it was me, then he would be one more person who knows my secret, so I must avoid him seeing me while I am here as Danae. Since Danae is dead, we can not be in the same place at the same time – something which may haunt me later.

I’m hoping to eventually be able to put aside the bulk of my Winter garb and address, and behave more Summer than Winter. If that happens, I still need to act and look rather different from Danae. Although, knowledge of Danae’s death won’t be a secret forever, so my precautions are necessary, but not as overwhelming as they would be if I was planning on keeping her persona alive.

I watched Jea yesterday during court and tonight at dinner. She gives no more hint of friendliness to me or to Samson Delilah, than she usually has in public. I wonder, at odd moments, if I dreamed or imagined her conversation with me, but I still have enough faith in my faculties to believe it. Samson, for his part, has become more serious and less flirtatious with the women of court. Not enough to offend anyone (aside from former lovers who have been sending him scathing glances for days, though know one knows why) but I think he’s trying to make himself more respectable. He has been kinder too, in palace gossip about me. I guess he’s trying to impress his betrothed – he has no reason from my treatment or behavior to back down. When I arrived, he was quite vocal about wanting me out.

Many Summerians were unhappy about me marrying the king, and he was a vocal majority. Still, no one has tried to kill me, and not since that attempt on Adora’s life, has anyone tried to kill any of my servants. It’s worrying how easily we seem to have been incorporated into Summerian consciousness. But we have to be careful because any slight problem from any of us will remind the Summerians just how much they don’t want us here. We have to sway public opinion slowly, but steadily, so that we can incorporate the two worlds. Hopefully, by the end of next year, I’ll have my little bundle of incorporation.