The children called her Mama.
The extended family called her Lady
Outsiders called her Mrs. Cassadine
Luke called her Mama Cass when he met her.
But only once.
After the broken nose, he’d tried Spitfire and she preferred that instead.
The inner family called her Alazne.
Nikolas called her Ala or Alazne or My Love in public.
He called her other things, in whispered, urgent caresses in private.
If he was feeling cheeky, which wasn’t often, he called her Princess.
But when he wanted to take her breath away, or reveal the part of himself that no one else was privileged to see he called her something else entirely.
Zoloste.
He called her Gold.
*~*
She moved quickly, her long lithe legs sheathed in charcoal slacks and complimented with a winter green sleeveless blouse. Her long jet black hair was expertly wound up and held in place by two bejeweled hair sticks. Never fond of heels, she wore baby soft slippers, handmade to mold to her feet and only her feet.
Her choice of dress, like her stride, was purposeful and elegant and like all Cassadine women, she always had a purpose.
It had been a mere 48 hours since Nikolas made his announcement and the demeanor in Wyndemere had shifted from a warm formality to a cool uncertainty. Staff, normally quiet and unaffected was now rigid in their movements. The family itself was bolder in their unhappiness, heated exchanges behind closed doors, glances in hers or Nikolas’s direction that spoke volumes and unusual silence.
Nikolas appeared unaffected by the change, but she knew him well enough to know he soaked up the melancholy like a starving sponge. He had missed his morning Tai Chi with her and had paced half the night on the balcony.
“Alazne.”
Alazne paused near the foyer to the Master wing of Wyndemere.
Faith approached from an adjacent corridor, donned in a jade green wrap dress, the mother of pearl necklace Nikolas and Alazne had gifted her years earlier resting elegantly against her mocha colored skin. Alazne smiled warmly and the women clasped hands briefly before speaking.
“How are you Thea?” The words were polite and sincere, but the double edged meaning did not go unnoticed by Faith.
“I am well, thank you. Matvei has been scampering in and out of my workshop, undoubtedly evading his teachers.”
Matvei was a safe topic of conversation, designed to keep both women at ease.
Alazne let out a gentle laugh. “He carefully chooses his moments to bend the rules, doesn’t he?”
“No doubt encouraged by Andresj,” Faith added.
“And Sabrina,” both said in unison before bursting into gales of laughter that rang pleasantly down the halls.
Having grown with no mother of her own, Alazne had taken to Faith quicker than any other Cassadine woman in the family. Faith had provided unassuming, easy guidance in helping Alazne to bond to young Matvei when she and Nikolas had first married.
“I’m sure Asha will be doing the same. You know she’d more determined than any other Cassadine in this family,” Alazne remarked, running her fingers over the simple band nestled on her ring finger.
Faith’s eyes softened at the mention of the youngest of Nikolas and Alazne’s three children and only girl. The child had been born on the island on the coldest night of a terrible winter storm. It had been a difficult and painful birth for Alazne and they had decided, sadly, to have no more following the trauma.
But that night had served to bond three generations of Cassadine women.
Faith to Alazne to Verasha, who had been named in honor of Faith.
The recent turn of events had undoubtedly put a strain on their relationship as their gazes settled uncertainly on each other.
“We need to discuss Archer Cassadine with Nikolas,” Faith said, unwilling to delay the point of her stopping Alazne in the hallway.
Alazne nodded but straightened her posture ever so slightly. “I understand,” she replied but offered nothing further. She reached out and bussed Faith’s cheek, catching the older woman by surprise with her impulsive gesture. She cared dearly for Faith and ached for what had been so quickly taken from her and given to an outsider.
But she stood with her husband first, last and always.
She squeezed Faith’s hands tenderly. “Please join us after dinner this evening, won’t you?”
The women said their goodbyes and Alazne headed towards the Master suite, swiping fresh tears from her flawless cheeks.
Nikolas was tapping furiously at his tablet when Alazne entered the suite. Hearing her come in, he guiltily hit a few precious keys before turning the device off. He turned to find his unimpressed wife with her hands on her hips. She pointed at the offending tablet and centered her narrowed gaze on Nikolas.
“That doesn’t come in here,” she declared. She watched as Nikolas placed the item in one of his many valises and secured it in a nearby oak armoire. She shook her head as he approached her, the ever-present worry still etched in his countenance.
“I’m sorry Ala,” he murmured, pulling her to him. He began to speak and she silenced him with a look. Her fingers rose and stroke the side of his face, her movements delicate but determined, as if she could smooth away the lines of concern with the pads of her fingers.
“This is our sanctuary,” she reminded him quietly before pressing a kiss to his cheek. He gave a deep sigh of relief as her arms wound around him, bringing them even closer together.
“No one else, but you and I.” Her words were melodic and soothing. “Always.”
“Always,” he repeated before bringing his mouth to hers in a soul stirring kiss. He pulled away and regarded her with renewed energy.
“Tell me about Archer.” They sat down on a nearby slate colored grand piano chaise longue, their hands twined together. “Tell me about your first meeting.”
Nikolas opened his mouth to speak but as his gaze met hers, he paused, wordlessly understanding the true meaning of her request. She was not referring to the meeting he had with Archer just a few days earlier, but rather the one he had not told a single soul. “I met him six months ago in London.”
“He had a list of demands, each more ridiculous than the last. However, I knew that a person does not approach a man in my position with such demands without having, as Lucky would say, an ace up his sleeve.”
Under normal circumstances, Alazne would gently tease him for quoting the raffish, laid back manner of his other younger brother, but now, she remained silent and steadfast, waiting for him to continue.
Nikolas let out a sigh and searched Alazne’s midnight eyes for answers. Her dark pools shimmered as she offered him her silent support.
“Archer has an ace. One I can’t ignore or silence or handle to my advantage.”
Alazne bristled as Nikolas’s voice wavered ever so slightly. His stoicism was legendary in the family. Very little ruffled Nikolas and he was almost never caught off guard. To know that Archer had discovered a weakness in her husband and was now twisting it to suit his needs turned her stomach. She bit her lip to stifle the angry words that wanted to curse Archer Cassadine and his wicked mother.
Nikolas stood, their hands pulling apart as he moved to the French doors that opened onto the balcony.
“I would do anything for this family.” It was as if he was declaring an oath and she was bearing witness to it.
In the past, she would be comforted by these words, even feel a measure of pride, but now she was only alarmed. Alazne stood and joined him at the doors. “Wonderful,” she said briskly, hoping to quell her concerns. “You can start by telling me everything that has happened between you and Archer since you met in London six months ago.”
Nikolas gave her a look that was so startlingly like Stefan, she nearly reared back in surprise. A mixture of resignation, respect and a tinge of arrogance at being challenged, followed quickly by assent. Nikolas went over to his valise and pulled a small 5x7 photograph from a pocket and presented it to her.
Alazne looked down at the photograph, studying the features of a beautiful dark haired woman. She looked back up at Nikolas, still confused.
Nikolas’ dark orbs radiated a deep well of sadness. “Look at her again. Who do you see?”
Alazne lowered her gaze once more, her eyes scrutinizing every inch of the stranger in the photo as silent seconds ticked by. The dark, shoulder length loose curls. The full lips pulled into a sly smile. The fierce intelligence radiating from the woman’s eyes.
And all at once, Alazne knew this woman.
She knew the woman and understood why Nikolas had made the choices he had.
“No.” Her whispered horror came out in one long, painful hiss. She jerked her head up, rage filling her eyes.
“Is she dead yet?” she demanded, her lips thinning with fury. They did not need to speak of who was responsible for this. Helena’s trademarks were everywhere.
Nikolas took the picture from her hands. “I have already forgiven her,” he said, his words awash with bitterness.
“Forgiven her?!” Alazne was aghast.
“Yes.” Nikolas’s voice was firm.
Alazne shook her head, refusing to accept the answer. “She’s gone too far; this is too much to ask of you.”
Nikolas reverently placed the picture back into the valise. Alazne swallowed another angry protest, instead marching to where he stood and cupping his face in her hands.
“She’s already won,” Nikolas said before she spoke. Alazne’s resolve faltered as his hands moved up to cover hers as they rested on his face. Their fingers twined once more.
“Zoloste, I need you.”
“You never need to say that,” Alazne declared, her love for him matching the fierceness in her tone.
“Yes, I do,” Nikolas contradicted. “Tonight, everything changes.”
Alazne frowned. “What do you mean?”
Nikolas’s resolve hardened. “Tonight, I will tell everyone the truth.”
*~*
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