One day, someday My prince may come But it doesn't seem likely And even if he came and he liked me It's likely he'd be Not quite my type
It was the night of the Masquerade. Celeste's first. She had been shocked that she was even permitted to go. But, as she had learned, her cousin liked being the center of the universe. He was not particular about who he invited to watch the spectacle. And, if you were in his employ, you were either working or in attendance. And he did not need a nurse at his party...fingers crossed.
She had been given a dress for the evening. It was a hazy, dark celadon color. Simple, and unoffensive. Ankle length, with three quarter length sleeves. Her only qualm with the thing was the ridiculous neckline. It had wide lapels that were delicately embroidered with silver flowers, but the damn thing nearly fell open to her navel. She felt exposed and was not at all confident that everything was going to remain in its place. But, she didn't have much of an option. She wasn’t exactly flush with finery and flouncy gowns.
She had pinned her hair up halfway, letting the bulk of it fall down her back. It was perfectly adequate, in her opinion. She had never been to a fancy-dress ball. And, for all the discussion and excitement surrounding it, it seemed like rather more trouble than it was worth.
Standing on the side of the ballroom, she had her arms firmly crossed over her chest, watching the whirling, giddy partygoers. She watched Julian as he changed partners with each new dance. She saw him every time his eyes fell on her, and then quickly averting his gaze.
Her time of being confined to the palace was nearly done. She would be free to go, soon. She would still be in the employ of the palace, but she could come and go as she pleased, more or less. As the year mark approached, Julian had become withdrawn from her. And her surveillance by the guards and courtiers had increased dramatically, as had her workload.
Celeste felt a hand on her shoulder as someone approached her from behind. Aedan leaned down and whispered in her ear. "You know, standing over here looking miserable is just drawing more attention to yourself."
She stared straight ahead but made a noise of annoyance. "I doubt it. Most of the key players have been half-drunk since noon."
Her brother straightened and stepped to her side. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "What in the hell are you wearing?" she hissed.
He was wearing a red dress shirt with a black brocade vest with satin lapels, fastened with gold buttons, and similar black brocade trousers. His blonde hair was slicked back, with wispy curls at the nape of his neck fighting against the product in his hair. He wore a leather mask, fashioned after a duck hawk. Golden knotwork playing across it.
"You're one to talk," he whispered back, amused. "Dad would have a heart attack if he saw you like that."
She narrowed her eyes. "Well, he won't. So, I suppose it really doesn't matter, does it?"
Aedan sighed and rolled his eyes. "You're making this harder on yourself than it has to be. It's a party, Sissy. Go have fun. Please." He reached into his pocket and fished out a few coins. "Give me your hand," he demanded.
She stuck her hand out, the other arm still crossed over her chest. He dropped the money in her palm and folded her fingers around them. "It's a masquerade. Go buy a mask. The countess has some vendors out back."
She went to protest, but he was gone, back into the fray.
Julian whisked by her again and spun away, a glittering sapphire-color clad man in his arms. But, he saw her, and she saw his expression shift from delight to...melancholy? Pity? For himself, or her?
She was so frustrated, and so, so very tired. This was exactly what she hadn't wanted. She hadn't wanted to get attached to him. But, she had. And now, he kept her at arm's length. Claiming it would be easier for both of them. That he couldn't compromise both of their positions in the palace. That he was her superior, and that it was improper for them to carry on.
She couldn't bear to look at him anymore, and she turned and strode out of the ballroom.
She made her way down the corridors. Revelers pouring out of every room. Intoxicated, laughing. The sheer numbers of people that blocked her way were incredible. It was stiflingly hot. People in their formal wear, sweating, mixing with heavy perfumes and colognes. How was anyone meant to enjoy this? She dodged bodies, pushing past, sneaking between.
When she finally found the veranda, there was only a smattering of guests. Some browsing, others just enjoying the cool night air. She could see others down in the garden, playing, dancing, kissing.
She moved through the booths. There were a great many pretty things. Gems and crystals. Precious metals. Refined. Lovely. Sterile. Beautiful, but lacking personality. Unless wealth qualified as a personality. Then, they were spot on.
She reached the end of the aisle and was nearly resigned to it being a waste of time. Her eyes fell on the last booth. Seemingly unoccupied. She approached and looked over the masks. Only a few remaining. They were hand-carved and painted. They were gorgeous. True art pieces. Various animals. Birds. Foxes. Wolves. Snakes.
A bear. Just one bear mask pinned up, just out of her reach.
"I'm sorry, I had to step away for a moment. Can I help you?"
Celeste turned towards the airy voice. The person in front of her was elegantly adorned in violet and white, accents of gold, a thick golden collar, and a fox mask. A similar one to the ones on display. Fluffy, white curls on their head. Beautiful hair. She didn't think she'd seen anything like it. Her father had been blonde, and so was her brother, but this was something else altogether. And his eyes were lavender. That couldn't be entirely natural. Could it?
"I...yes. I wanted to see that bear mask, please," she stammered, following him with her eyes as he stepped back into the stall, pointing at it.
"You're welcome to look, but I'm afraid that one is already claimed." the person said, contrite. "I might have a similar one, somewhere." They lifted the mask off the wall presenting it to her in white-gloved hands. She carefully lifted it, examining it. Tracing her fingers over the carvings.
She felt a pang in her chest. She thought of her father. The man who had bested the bear, come back from the grave. It was always a fun story to hear. The way that the villagers would tell it, and the way her mama would laugh and chide them, assuring them that papa was nothing special. Just a lucky son-of-a-bitch, and that she was the real heroine of the story.
Asra watched her face as she admired Muriel's handiwork. He rarely saw someone so enthralled with their pieces. Perhaps the Countess, who invited him back year after year. Other people went for the more elaborate, expensive pieces. It was simply a matter of clientele. They would make a few sales. But, he liked the ambiance of the Masquerade. The colors, and the excitement. A little extra money never went amiss, either. He could watch the spectacle, see the outfits.
Muriel had agreed to come with him, under duress. But was quite quickly over the whole affair and had wandered off to find someplace quieter.
"This is wonderful," she said, handing the mask back over. "They all are. Are you the artist?"
Asra nodded. "I do the paint and some of the finer details, but my partner does the carvings and the leatherwork."
"Oh, like the peregrine falcon mask I saw earlier? The leather one?" she asked.
Asra's eyes went wide. "Yes, that's one of ours. I did the paint on it and he did the tooling. That was a commission piece for one of the guards. The countess had it made for him."
She nodded, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, another gift for Aric. If she had to guess, it was really Lucio pulling the strings and making dictates for how he wanted his guard to present himself. She forced a smile. "It was very beautiful. I know the man it was given to. I can't think of anything more appropriate for him."
Asra bent down and placed the mask in a box below the table, and rummaged through the remaining supplies, looking for another bear mask. He knew there was one here, somewhere. "Ah!" He exclaimed, pulling the leather mask out. "This might do. It's lighter than the other one. I think it might suit you better, too." He straightened, extending the mask to her.
It was smaller and lighter than the wooden mask. It was more intricate, with delicate patterns. Dainty gold accents brushed through the fur. It was so lovely. Exactly what she wanted. "Yes. I'll take it."
She reached out with her coin, and he put his hand up, refusing her. "No, keep it. It's nice to see someone appreciate them."
She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "No. I insist. There's too much effort and love poured into these to let it go for nothing." When he still refused, she tilted her head. "If it makes you feel better, it's not my money. I don't have any use for it. I don't have a pocket in this frock to hide it in. You're doing me a favor."
He sighed and relented, taking the coins and throwing them in a small box. She watched him magic it back shut, light shimmering from his fingertips. A magic lock.
"You practice magic?" she asked, quiet, looking back and forth, nervous.
"You saw that?" he replied, taken aback. Generally, people didn't see his magic, unless he was performing. Nothing that subtle caught people’s attention normally. He was caught off guard.
She made a low noise of acknowledgment. She snapped her fingers and the lock unlatched itself. Asra stared down at the box, blinking, then up at her. The tips of her fingers glittering for just a moment longer before it faded away. She had him fixed with a hard look.
"You should be more careful. There are a lot of prying eyes here. That would gladly exploit...that." she said, taking a step back.
"I'm a magician. It's kind of common knowledge," he said, the corner of his mouth turned up. "You don't practice?"
She shook her head. "Not safe."
He eyed her, confused. "I'm not sure what you mean? Sure, some people don't understand it, but..."
She stepped further away, putting her hand up. "Thank you, for the mask."
She turned to go, and she heard him calling after her. She forged forward, and then she caught the shock of red hair descending the stairs.
She stopped, looking back towards the man in the fox mask, then back at Julian, in his feathered raven get up. There really was no good option.
So she gripped the mask tight in one hand, and balled her skirt in the other and bolted, past Julian, and down into the garden.
"Celeste!" Julian yelled after her. He threw his hands up in frustration, then took off after her. He tripped over his own feet and caught some poor woman as he stumbled. Righting himself, and calling a stream of apologies over his shoulder as he ran after her.
"Celeste," Asra said, quietly to himself. Committing it to memory.
--
She ran, but she knew that Julian's legs were longer than hers by a fair sight. She just had to keep moving until she could find somewhere to take refuge. But, she didn't know the gardens particularly well. She wasn't permitted out of the castle often.
She saw a path at the tree line and made a break for it.
Once she had gotten beyond the trees, she looked back. She didn't see Julian but could hear him calling. She quickly pulled the mask on, fanning her hair out over the strap. She looked around for other signs of life. None to speak of. She took a chance and smoothed her hand over her dress, glamouring the color. Something distinctly not her. Red. The silver accents going gold. She was out of practice and knew it wouldn't last long, but it would service so she could sneak away. A temporary camouflage.
She moved along the path. The foliage became denser. Heavy vines thick with flowers cascading down from the treetops. Moonlight casting tendrils of light that danced and glittered as the breeze moved through.
She came upon a clearing and saw a figure, half in shadow, sitting on the edge of a long-neglected fountain. He startled when she entered into his presence, straightening a bit.
She looked around. There really was no place left to go. Every other path was so massively overgrown that it wouldn't be wise to go further. But, she couldn't hear Julian anymore. It was a brief respite.
"Sorry," she said to the big man that sat in front of her, watching her, looking somewhat irritated. "I'll be out of your hair in just a moment."
Muriel's eyes were wide. He had really tried to find somewhere quiet. No small feat in the middle of this nightmare of a party. And now, this woman...
...wearing one of his masks. His bear mask.
"Ah...sorry. I really am." She stated again. He had his eyes trained on her, staring her down, making her nervous. She couldn't really get a good read on him. Somewhere between annoyance and panic. And, this man was imposing, to say the least. Even sitting, she could tell a lot was going on, there. He was very impressive. And attractive. Very, very beautiful. Not at all dressed for a formal gathering. But, here, where nature had reclaimed the garden...that made sense.
She bowed her head to him and started to back away, then she turned, and walked back down the path. She hesitated for a moment and looked over her shoulder, locking eyes with the man once more.
Muriel wasn’t sure he could trust his eyes. Was this really happening? He blushed, but couldn't look away. As he stared, he watched the red of her dress melt away, fading back into a dark jade green. His favorite color.
And then she was gone.
---
She came back upon the main gardens, and Julian was nowhere to be seen. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Things were clearing out. She knew the party would go on until dawn, but not everyone had the stamina for this sort of thing. She certainly didn't. It was getting late enough that she could, perhaps, steal away back to her room.
She made her way across the manicured lawn. There were bodies strewn across the damp grass, lovers locked at the mouth, rolling around. Wanton. Drunk on each other. And, the copious amounts of alcohol probably didn't help.
Then, winded, from behind her. "Celeste, please!"
She dropped her chin to her chest, defeated. She drew a deep breath and whirled on him, jaw set. "What, Julian? Tired of ignoring me?"
He looked stricken, but he continued moving towards her. "Please, I want to make you understand..."
She rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. "Understand what? I think I get the message. You're the one that seems confused." she spat at him. "Why don't you just go back to your dancing?"
He dipped his head, looking ashamed. "You were the loveliest girl at the party tonight..."
She scoffed. "Please."
"...that's just the problem. If I'd paid you even the slightest amount of attention tonight it would've been all over the palace in record time. I know how close you are to having your restrictions lifted. I just don't want you...want us...under any undue scrutiny."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Undue scrutiny?" she repeated back at him, her voice dripping venom.
"You don't know how many eyes are on us. On you." he countered, keeping his voice even. "I don't understand it, but I know that things are different with you here. They never imposed half of the rules on me that they do for you. And Valdemar hates me, so I don't know what they would do to you if they thought they could get away with it. And they would get away with it."
There was something about her presence that put all the courtiers on edge. This wasn't normal. None of the other staff was treated with quite as much judgment as she had been. And Lucio was easily swayed by the courtiers. He could, and would, dispatch her if they asked him to. They didn't have to be honest with Lucio, either. He had seen them force his hand for minor infractions. With dire consequences.
They had shared many nights together. And it had been happy. The happiest she had been since she had come to Vesuvia. And then, he'd dropped her like a stone. She didn't know if she loved the fool or not, but he had been so caring. He was her friend. And he was her lover. She had let him in, and he had left her in the lurch.
She took a sharp breath. "I...appreciate that you're looking out for me. But, I can take care of myself. I will be okay. I just...I thought we had something."
He flushed a bit, the corner of his mouth turning up. "We do. Of course, we do, Celeste," he said, gently. "I don't want to draw more attention to us. And...I'm not good at being quiet."
She cast her eyes down, thinking. "What if...what if you didn't have to be quiet? What if we just went away? We just walked away from this?" She looked back to him, gesturing vaguely. "I don't want any of it. We can go off, start over. Together. What's holding us here?" She closed the gap between them, reaching out to grab his arms. "We aren't safe here. We aren't happy here."
His eyes went wide, darting around. He stepped back and grabbed her hand in his. Trying to find somewhere less exposed.
Every dark corner, every secluded alcove, was occupied. Things were devolving into a damn orgy. A couple stumbled out in front of them, disheveled. Blushing. He pushed past them into the space they had occupied, pulling Celeste behind him.
He released her and pulled his mask off, and she did the same.
"Are you serious?" he asked, dubious. "You want to go? With me?"
"Come on, Julian. You know nothing good comes from staying here." she insisted. "Are we slaves here, or are we employees? Employees can walk away. We are good at what we do. We can go and start over. Together."
Julian was unsure of what to say. His head weaved back and forth, and he made breathy noises, trying to find words. "We...we made commitments. It's part of the palace structure. We can't just walk away."
"Please, don't lecture me about commitments. I am up to my ears in commitments that I didn’t want to make.” she retorted. “What is lifting the sequester going to do? Allow me to go into town every once in a while? I'm still trapped here. And if I'm going to be trapped here, I deserve to have at least one friend." she pleaded. "We have to take care of each other."
"That's what I'm trying to do. I promise you...I just don't know how to do it." exasperated and sad. This was uncharted territory for him. Even if it had been better circumstances, the wouldn't know how to navigate these emotions. He wanted her. But he knew it was a terrible idea.
"There has to be some sort of compromise here, Julian. Please, help me." She begged.
He averted his gaze. "Please, lovely..." He sighed. "It's...we can just ride this out. We'll see what happens. How long is it? A few months more. We just have to buckle down. We can get through this. We just have to be careful." he concluded. There was nothing else to do.
She drew a shaky breath and steeled herself, glaring at him. "Then I guess this conversation was entirely useless. Thank you for chasing me. Very helpful." She snarled. "I'd rather be alone if the only other option is this." she threw her hand up, gesturing at him. "Some condescending clown that treats me like his subordinate when I can run circles around him. I will figure this out on my own. I do not need you getting drunk and existential at me every time you have a bad day that you have imposed on yourself. I have enough problems of my own."
He reeled back, shocked. So much for being quiet, he thought.
She continued berating him, her finger in his chest. "I won't hold my breath for you, Doctor Devorak. I enjoyed the fucking, but I assure you, I am quite over being screwed by this whole situation. One day I'll wake in the arms someone who will love me with all that they are. But you're too afraid to even pretend that you like me. So, good for you. You got under my skirt. You win. See you Monday.”
She whirled out of the alcove, and she did not look back, brushing past the smattering of people who had gathered to listen in. She was wholly unashamed. Even when she saw her brother, standing there, looking scandalized, but amused.
"Shut it," she said, putting her hand up as she strode past him.
"You want me to kick his ass?" he called after her.
She made a rude gesture in reply, not breaking her stride.
From across the garden, Asra and Muriel watched her from under the willow tree near the fountain. They had been just about ready to go when they'd heard the commotion and saw the gathering crowd.
"Who the hell is that?" Muriel asked, bewildered, shifting the box of masks on his shoulder.
Asra gave a breathy sigh, smiling broadly. "That is Celeste."
Have you been fast asleep And have you heard voices, I've heard them calling my name,
Is this the sweet sound that calls
The young sailors,
The voice might be one and the same.
I've heard it too many times to ignore it
It's something that I'm supposed to be.
Celeste was up before dawn. Hell, she had been up most of the night, too. Today was the day. No longer under lock and key. A fully vetted member of the medical staff. No longer subject to long, torturous lessons. She was free to practice medicine without the scrutiny of the Quaestor or the Doctor. She was free to leave the palace.
One whole year.
The morning air was cool, and dew slicked every surface. Glittering in the blue morning light, catching the first rays of the sun.
She was wearing a plain white button-down and a blue linen skirt. A knit shawl around her shoulders, more than sufficient coverage for the early morning chill. She stood at the grand gates, waiting for them to be opened for the day along with a smattering of other staff.
She could hear hoofbeats and carriages approaching. It was a part of the morning ritual. You came to the gate if there were errands to be run, or if you were off duty, and you went into town, and the utility carriages would ferry staff back and forth throughout the day.
As the line of carriages started picking up passengers, Celeste hung back, looking for Aedan. He had agreed to meet her and give her the lay of the land. Save for their initial walkthrough of the city when they arrived, she hadn't seen much of it. Whereas he was on regular patrols in the city.
But he was nowhere to be found. She worried, a bit. But then, that was a constant state. Worry. That something had gone wrong.
After the carriages were gone, she sighed, resigned. She would have to wait for someone to return, or walk on her own. She wasn't opposed. She wasn't staying here. She was free, and, by the gods, she would take advantage of it.
She made to leave but heard another carriage approaching. This one, decidedly not utilitarian. Gilded, opulent, with white horses, bedecked in finery.
Lucio's carriage.
The horses slowed to a stop, and the carriage door swung open. A tall, blonde man emerged, beaming. Dressed in his guard's uniform. He gestured grandly. "Milady, your carriage awaits!" Aedan called out, looking very pleased with himself.
Celeste stared at him, then closed her eyes, slowly, swearing under her breath. "Fucking idiot." She shook her head, but steeled herself, and stepped forward.
He bowed to her, reveling in it. She fixed him with a hard, cold stare. He looked up and winked, undeterred, offering his hand to help her in. She took it and stepped inside.
It was all red velvet and gold filigree. Golden roses on the walls, embedded artfully in the luxurious fabric. She sat, marveling at the ostentatiousness. Aedan stepped in behind her and sat heavily, kicking his feet up on the far seat.
"Congratulations, Sissy. You made it!" He said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leaning in to peck her cheek affectionately. She did smile, then, shaking her head.
"You are an absolute fool, Vernersson. You know that, right?" she chided, playfully.
"Ah, fuck it. The guys in the stables owe me a favor. But, hell. If we go down, at least we're going down together. In style." He squeezed her and released her, crossing his arms behind his head, reclining. "Besides, I can always play it off that we were checking the carriage for signs of sabotage. I might get a promotion."
"Oh, there's a rank higher than lapdog?" she teased, sitting back.
"You wound me." he rolled his eyes. "Speaking of promotions, I heard that you were begrudgingly awarded the rank of Nurse Practitioner. Good on you."
She swirled her finger in the air, dismissive. "All it means is that I don't have to have Valdemar leering at me constantly. Nothing of value has changed."
"That's a blessing," he replied. Valdemar wasn’t someone he’d like to run into in a dark corner. And he knew that’s all his sister had done for the last year. After a beat, he decided to continue. "And what about the Doctor? You still working...under him?"
She shot a dark look at him but didn't reply. Aedan laughed.
Word was fully out. And, thankfully, it had been fallen more on Julian than her. He, the "superior" and she, his "subordinate". Even so, it had mostly been to Julian's embarrassment. There hadn't been any real consequences besides a little shame and a whole lot of blushing.
She had all but hardened her heart to Julian. He had been so contrite, trying his damnedest to get back into her good graces. She had rejected him roundly, and vehemently, each time. Every time it stung. But, she couldn't relent.
"You like the stupid motherfucker. Just...get over it. You don't gotta marry him. He's there. Screw him every once in a while. Helps pass the time." He said, reaching over to tug her hair playfully. She reached back to slap his hand.
"I do not need to take love advice from you. Thank you very much."
They rode in silence for a while. The voices around them rose as they came into the city square, circling the fountain at the center. Even this early, there was quite a gathering of people moving from building to building. They all looked up at the carriage, alarmed. Aedan looked out the carriage windows. "Ooh, yeah. I bet they are shocked. Lucio doesn't get up before noon on most days. Bet this is a surprise."
When the carriage came to a stop, the coachman yelled for Aedan "to get the hell out". He escorted Celeste out onto the street, then went to settle up with the man, the both of them chatting. Friendly. People relaxed, realizing the Count, was not, in fact, in their midst.
She stood in the center of the square, looking at the various avenues. The buildings. The colors. The people.
Aedan came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, giving a squeeze. He bent down to whisper in her ear. "Welcome to the big city. You're gonna love it."
----
"It's fucking hot," Celeste gasped, leaning against the wall, under an awning. It was sticky. Damp. She hadn't seen the sun much in the past year, and at this moment, she wondered what she had missed about it so much.
They had walked miles together. but Aedan was still just as chipper as ever, chatting with every vendor he came across. A man of the people. Generous and well-liked. She had never gotten to see this side of him. He had embraced Vesuvia in a way she had never been able to.
It felt liberating, but overwhelming all at once to her. So many things to see.
Her father had taken them traveling as children and teenagers, as often as he could. But he hadn't taken them here. Verner had always preferred smaller villages and cities. He loved nature, and could never fully embrace these big meccas. They were never gone terribly long, being so needed at home. She and her mother weren't able to be spared for long stretches, the village's primary sources of medical care.
Aedan was engaged with a girl selling flowers, talking animatedly. She watched him, waving her hand inconsequentially in front of her face, trying to generate some sort of breeze. After a while, he broke away and walked over to her.
"So, I have some business I need to take care of over in Goldgrave. It's a construction hell hole right now. Some stupid project Lucio is working on. I just need to check-in and make sure everyone is on task. You're in the market district. It's fairly self-explanatory. If you have any questions, the baker up the road is a pretty solid guy, he'll point you in the right direction. Here..." He reached into his satchel and produced some coins. "Just in case. There are vendors all over the damn place. Just...be careful. Dock kids are mucking about. They're all pretty harmless, but they're pickpockets. It's a whole thing." He gestured vaguely. "Just...remember, the gates do close the palace at dark. If you're out, you're out."
She put the coins in her pocket, looking up at him, curious. "What's Montag building?"
He rolled his eyes. "Damn sports arena. I don't know. Some stupid bullshit. Wants to watch people knock heads. The thing is ancient, he's just doing some renovations to get it back up and running."
She shook her head. That sounded very on-brand for Lucio. Watching poor fuckers fight...and, for what?
He gave her arm a squeeze. "I'm not sure when I'll see you again, Sis. The schedule's looking a little erratic. But, I'll try to duck in and see you soon."
She smiled, reaching up to pat his cheek. "Love you."
He gave her a half-smile. "Love you more. And if I find out you went to the South End without me, I'm gonna be pissed. I'm taking you to the Raven first." And then he turned to go.
Leaving her to her own devices.
---
She wandered down the narrow streets. It was shadier, here. The buildings and awnings blocking much of the sunlight. She had stopped at the kindly bakers' stall and picked up a few boules, and a pumpkin bread he had all but insisted she take.
She was mid-stride when she felt something fall on her shoulders. Heavy. And...moving. Slithering.
She froze, and a pair of red eyes came into her view. A skinny tongue, darting out.
She closed her eyes. What was this? Dehydration? Heat exhaustion? No fucking way.
When she reopened them, the little face had tilted, observing her. The damn thing looked amused.
She looked up slowly at the sign above. An apothecary's mortar and pestle, with a serpent wrapped around.
A woman walked past, and she shot her arm out to stop her. "I'm...sorry. Do you know if this..." she jerked her head, trying to indicate her new neck accessory "...belongs here?" she jerked her head towards the shop.
The woman laughed. "Oh, yes! That's the magician's snake. He'll be glad someone's found her." The woman reached, out, rubbing a finger affectionately under the snake's chin. "Oh, you silly thing! Getting Asra all in a dither."
And then she swept away, leaving her alone, again.
With a snake.
Around her neck.
She backed towards the door carefully and reached out to knock, stiff, fist still wrapped around a sack with various baked goods.
Someone called out, muffled, from behind the door. "It's open!"
She pulled a face, annoyed. "Yeah, no. You're going to need to come here, please!" she called back.
She heard rustling, and then the door swung open.
Asra blinked, unsure of what he was seeing. It was the woman from the Masquerade.
"Celeste?"
She wasn't quite facing the store's owner, afraid to move. But, the fact that they knew her name was almost as unsettling as the damn snake. She swallowed hard, staring ahead.
"I believe this belongs to you." She said, shaky.
"Oh, Gods. Faust." he scolded, reaching his hand out to collect her. The snake coiled around his wrist and up his arm. "I'm sorry. She likes to...fall." He gave the snake a halfhearted glare, to which she responded by pressing her snout against his cheek.
"Sorry..." Faust replied, flicking her tongue out. A little kiss.
As it disengaged from her, she shuddered. She still felt like it was on her. The sensation of slithering. It sent chills up her spine. She closed her eyes, trying to regain her composure.
She turned to face the snake's owner and was immediately met with another shock. That hair. Those eyes.
"The mask maker." She said, appraising him. She hadn't seen him in full before. His face obscured by the fox mask when they had met previously. But, there was no mistaking those eyes. He was lithe, and his hair was fluffy. Curls and waves giving it volume, but it fell into his eyes. Shaggy, but somehow not unpolished. It looked just as pearlescent as it had the night of the Masquerade. He looked effortless. He wore a white dress shirt, unbuttoned to the navel, sleeves pushed up. He was swathed in various brilliant scarves. That wide, golden collar at his throat.
"Asra," he said, his hand still extended from reclaiming Faust. "And you're Celeste."
She reached up to take his hand, tentative, shaking it. "I'm sorry, I don't recall being formally introduced before."
"That's because you ran away." he teased. "I caught your name from the guy chasing you, knocking over party guests in his wake."
"Ah. Yes. Vocal, that one is." she said, rolling her eyes. "Well, I guess it's nice to meet you. And your...pet. Asra. Faust."
Their hands were still connected.
And neither felt the need to release the other.
Their eyes were locked, and they stood, quiet. People bustled past, going on about their business.
After a beat, Asra shook his head. "I'm sorry...do you want to come in? It's a slow day. I have tea?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, tea sounds lovely. I had some pumpkin bread foisted on me. We can share."
He had almost expected her to protest but was delighted she didn't.
He pulled her in after him, and she shut the door.
The shop was cluttered and dusty. Trinkets, vials, jars, boxes, and shiny bits covered every surface. There were beautiful swaths of fabric hanging in the doorframes and in the windows, paired with cobwebs.
She turned to look at him, eyebrow raised. "You are a magician, are you not?" Her eyes glittered, challenging him.
"As are you, if I recall."
"And you let your shop look like this?" She released his hand and gestured vaguely.
His eyes darted around, and he lifted an eyebrow, not sure what she was implying.
She fixed him with an incredulous look. "Come now. At least glamour it so it appears presentable. A couple cleaning spells would put it right."
When he still looked bewildered, she sighed and dismissed him with her hand. "Go, make tea. I'll fix it."
He gave a laugh as he moved towards the doorframe behind the counter, going to settle Faust in and make their drinks. "You don't have to fix anything."
"Oh, I'm afraid I do," she called after him as he swept out of the room. She couldn't let him go about dispensing herbs...medicine...like this. No wonder business was slow.
When Asra returned, he blinked, taken aback. The room was brighter than when he had left. The haze on the front windows cleared. Everything looked fresh and new. It even smelled different. Everything was still scattered around the room, but Celeste was shuffling through things on the countertop, examining the contents, moving them into distinct categories.
"What did you do?" he asked, eyes still fluttering around the room.
"I cleaned. You're an apothecary. You can't dispense out of here like this." she scolded, not looking up from her task.
"I’m sorry...you know this is my shop, yes?" he said, pushing some of the boxes aside and setting down the teacups. "I have a system. It works fine."
"You have an attack snake and dust. I see no system." she countered.
He wandered the room, examining her handiwork. He hadn't seen such color in the place for years. Not since he had set everything up. It did look...nice. Very nice. He hadn't even noticed that it had fallen into disrepair until he saw it illuminated like this, restored to its glory. He blinked, shaking his head. "Thank you. It's...great."
He turned to look at her. She had a box in the palm of her hand and was rubbing dried herbs between her fingers, bringing them to her nose to sniff.
"Lavender," he said, recognizing the box.
"Well, maybe at some point it was. It's stale. You're not going to get anything out of it. Some poor heartsick son of a bitch is going to be desperately disappointed if you put this in a love charm. I don't even want to think about the insomniacs, begging for sweet relief, putting this ancient stuff under their pillow. It's inhumane."
His eyes went wide. She knew her stuff.
She put the box down and put her hands on the countertop, tapping her fingernails on the surface, looking down, disappointed. "You know, at some point, I'm going to refer someone to you and I need to know that you have what patients need."
"Patients?" he asked, not comprehending.
"Yes, my patients...I...oh. Sorry," she realized, she hadn't properly introduced herself. That was a bit awkward. Especially now that she was taking inventory of his storeroom as she did at the palace. "Nurse Practitioner Celeste." She pressed her hand to her chest. "Palace Nurse Practitioner. Doctor Devorak's...Assistant." She said, struggling with the last word a bit.
"Ahh." He said, everything clicking into place. "So you're a magical doctor. Intriguing."
"I'm a healer. And a midwife. There isn't much call for midwifery in the palace. The Count and Countess don't seem to be in a hurry to produce any heirs. And...I don't practice magic in the palace if you recall." she lamented. "But, we go where we are called. Serving some greater purpose."
He approached the counter and pushed the tea saucer over to her. "How long have you been in Vesuvia? I don't think I've ever seen you in town before."
"Three hundred and sixty-five days as of today." She said, taking the cup. She blew across the top as a precaution and sipped. She lowered the cup, closing her eyes. Making a low "Mm." Obviously pleased.
Asra bit his lower lip, watching her face. She was lovely. Deep Chestnut hair in a halo around her face, feathering out at the edges. A forelock of blonde. Long, dark, heavy eyelashes. Pointed eyebrows. Sharp cheekbones and a tapered jaw. A long, graceful neck. And those sea-green eyes. Muriel's eyes were vibrant, but hers were hazy. Misty. And, somehow, familiar. Equally beautiful.
"A whole year, and this is the first time I'm seeing you in town?" he asked.
She relayed rudiments of her employment and the year of sequestering in the palace. He listened, seemingly enthralled. When she concluded, he questioned her a bit, trying to suss out the details.
She was as honest as she could be. It felt wrong, withholding from him. She wanted to spill all of it out. But, she didn't know him. She couldn't know that he was trustworthy. Not yet. And, even if he were, would it be worth it to compromise him?
"Sounds like you've had a rough go of it."
She nodded. "All uphill from here, I hope."
He extended his cup to her. "Cheers to that."
She tapped her cup gently against his and raised it to drink. He mirrored her.
She looked into the cup, swirling it, then surveying the tendrils left behind once it was drained.
"Tasseography?" he questioned, skeptical. "There are better methods of fortune-telling." He reached into his satchel and produced the cards, extending them to her.
She looked up at him, then down at the cards. "Six in one hand and a half dozen in the other."
He laughed, disbelieving.
She shook her head at him. "I'm serious. It all comes from the same place, doesn't it? It's all open for interpretation. Yours just has pretty pictures. Mine is damp leaves."
"Ahh. I'd say mine has a bit more weight." the corner of his mouth was turned up.
She sighed, resigned. "Fine. Read me, Magician." She lifted them from his hands and cut them a couple times, then handed them back, tapping the top of the deck when he'd taken it back.
He flipped the top card down onto the countertop.
They both stared at it, then up at each other. Her cheeks went red, and the tops of his ears did.
"Well. Hard not to read into that," she said, low.
The Two of Cups.
Asra cleared his throat. "Indulge me for a second." He said, picking up the card and shuffling it back into the deck. He cut the deck for himself and handed it to Celeste, tapping the top of the deck, just as she had. She flipped the card down.
The Lovers.
Celeste a rush of cold that flooded from the top of her head, creeping down her spine. The cards felt like they were vibrating in her hands. She thrust them towards Asra, and he put them down on the counter, staring at them. Looking betrayed.
"...Well, if it helps. I didn't actually see anything in the cup?" she choked out.
This particular diamond was extra special And though you might be gone, and the world may not know Still, I see you, Celestial And I should but I can't let you go
Linnea hated this place.
That was the refrain that ran on a loop through her aching mind.
She was confined to her tiny single bed in a dank, far-flung corner of the castle. Her year of being sequestered was only half-way through. A condition of being taken on under Valdemar's tutelage. She was confined to the palace.
She had spent her life in service thus far. Everything she was being force-fed in clinical settings, forced to observe, to learn...were things she already knew. Of course, she didn't have the language that the medical tomes had. All of her knowledge was practical. Hands-on. She knew bodies. She knew babies. She knew illness. She knew healing.
She didn't know how to be put on the spot and recite anatomical jargon and define how the body functioned. She didn't know how to be mocked and belittled by some wretched, sickly creature in their laboratory. Watching them take morbid joy in vivisection and dissection.
This was all a means to wrench her compassion out of her heart. To force her to come to heel. Make her conform. To make her be this...thing. This false version of herself.
To make her Celeste. A pleasing name. A fabrication.
She knew her brother was up above, somewhere. He had gained the Count's favor. He had made friends with the other staff. The other guards. He would occasionally round down there. Ever cheerful, never defeated. Telling her to keep her chin up.
"It's not so bad, Sissy." he would say, sweetly. And she would nod, not wanting to put it on him. Aric was her first baby. A good foot taller than her, and the same age, but he was her responsibility, too. If she had to lie and smile through it, she would. For him.
For Aric. Not for that evil bitch, Morga, that had forced her father's hand and sent them to this hellhole. For her stupid son-of-a-bitch son.
She forced her pain down. If it meant she cried herself to sleep every night, that was how it would have to be.
She missed her mother. She missed her father. She missed her brother.
She missed home.
An arm was cast over her eyes. Her head ached. A pain that started in her jaw, climbed up her cheek, radiating into her ears and up into her eye. Throbbing. It had been like this for hours. She was nauseous from the pain. She had fought it, for hours, straining to take notes as her vision came and went. Struggling to concentrate. Eventually, she had enough and stole away to her room, struggling to even make it that far.
There was a knock at the chamber door. Sharp, and swift. She winced, her whole body tensing.
"Unlocked," she croaked. As if that were necessary. There was no lock on the door. She wasn't permitted one. Her things could be searched at any time. Another delightful perk.
"Nurse?"
Julian.
He swept into the dark room, fully prepared to play the knight in shining armor, holding a small bottle between his fingers, held aloft, gesturing grandly at it with the other hand, posing.
But, she wasn't watching him. She didn't move at all. Eyes still covered.
What a letdown.
He pulled a face, annoyed, and took another pose, hand on his hip, appraising her.
Still, she didn't move or speak.
She looked small. Wan. Fragile. And his annoyance faded.
"I brought you something that might help." He said, stepping towards her.
She hissed a "Sshhh" at him, raising her other hand and pressing her index finger against her lips. His voice grating against the inside of her skull.
"That bad, huh? Poor chick," he said, sympathetic, crouching down beside her.
She groaned and threw her arm up, one bloodshot eye cracking open at him, her lips pursing into a tight knot.
He startled. She looked hungover. But, she didn't drink.
...Well, not true. She didn't drink often. They had, once, sat at his desk, passing a bottle back and forth after a particularly heinous day, which had only served to make the next day even less tolerable.
No, this was something else.
He gave her a slight smile, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Peppermint oil."
She lifted her eyebrow, puzzled. At least it wasn't leeches.
She winced as she forced herself up. Her whole body ached, and her stomach lurched as she moved. She gagged involuntarily, leaning over the side of the bed. Nothing came up, but stars danced in front of her eyes. Julian reached out and steadied her, unflinching, moving to sit behind her on the bed, bracing her in his arms.
Even in her state, she knew enough to feel panic at his touch, and she tried to move away from him. And failed, miserably. Her head thrumming and throbbing.
The trouble was...she liked Doctor Devorak. She wasn't sure how much of that was simple proximity and how much of it was genuine affection. He was handsome. And...different. So different than every man she had known her whole life. Creamy like a pearl, with such brilliant red hair and misty grey eyes. His smile was roguish and it did wicked things to her.
He was a problem.
He was her superior. If only in title. He wasn't much older than her. Had only slightly more "formal" education than she had. A field medic. If her village had titles, she would likely outrank him. But, in the palace, there was a hierarchy. She had to learn her place. Even if it was bullshit.
But, he was the closest thing to a friend she had. She didn't want to have friends. She didn't want to want anything from this place. To tie her here.
She knew about passion. The passion that clouded reason and made people weak. That brought on baby after baby. She knew about sex...In theory.
And she knew herself. She liked to think she could walk away. Unmarked, unscathed, unattached.
But, she was already attached to him.
When she would find him at his desk, passed out, late at night. Clinic notes scattered all around. A bottle half empty in the middle of it all. The way she would have to fight brushing his hair from his face. From kissing him awake. From leading him back to her tiny, cramped room and holding him all night long.
When he'd stand behind her in the surgery, pressed against her, guiding her hands as she cut, or watching her as she stitched, praising her technique. Making her feel valued. Embracing her intelligence.
He was so kind. And so very sad. And she wanted to take his sadness from him. Even in her own grief, she wanted to take his from him.
She had known what her life would be like. She would take her mother's place as the healer. Her grandfather would force her father to find her a husband amongst the men in the village. She would learn to love him. They would have babies and a home of their own. She would be happy. She would be home, where she belonged. Beside the frozen sea.
It wasn't supposed to be this. She wasn't supposed to feel this. She didn't want to want this.
He gathered her against his chest, resting his back against the cold stone wall, pulling her up between his thighs, her back against his chest.
Her hair was down. He didn't usually see her like this. Disheveled. She was usually so neatly dressed. Pinned up. He liked how elegant she was. She made his days...easier. Every day since she had arrived, she had relieved so many of his burdens. Cleaned up his messes. Made him want to do better. To take care of her.
They barely knew each other. And it seemed she wanted it that way. He didn't even know her last name. She could look at him, so sweet, and then she would stiffen and pull back from him. She would dodge his inquiries. She was a mystery. It was intriguing.
He imagined that was why Valdemar pushed her so hard. They knew that there was something there that they could exploit. That was simply how Valdemar worked. It was what they did to him, too. But, he was an empty well.
Celeste was brimming with possibility. It was impossible to hide. She had something that the Quaestor wanted. A reason she was kept under such tight lock and key. Even he, on his worst day, had never been under such intense scrutiny. It was no wonder she was so brought down by it all.
He wanted to protect her. But, he had no real influence. He could only be nearby her. A soft place to fall. He wasn't very good at it. But he wanted to be. He really did.
He brought his gloved hand to his lips and used his teeth to pull off one of his gloves, tossing it on the tiny bedside table. Cringing when the rickety thing swayed, the oil in the unlit lamp sloshing back and forth. He reached around her to remove the other glove, and, more carefully, deposited it with its twin.
He unstoppered the bottle and pressed his index finger across the small hole, shaking the bottle. It was pungent stuff. He wouldn't need much. He closed it back and sat it by the wayside. He rubbed the tips of his fingers together, then brought them to her temples, rubbing small circles.
The scent was so intense. She, almost immediately, felt something break loose in her head, tension fading. She was by no means, recovered. No, these headaches could last for days and leave her spent. She had them since she was a young girl. As soon her menses had started. But, they had gotten worse with age. She didn't know what was going to set them off. A change in the weather. A poor choice of meal.
And she knew she could magic it away. She could heal herself. But she was under strict directives to avoid any use of her magic. To avoid drawing any undue attention to herself. The palace was full of people who were sensitive to it. She couldn't risk it.
She sunk into his chest. She had never been this close to him before. She didn't think he'd ever been silent for this long. It must be a struggle for him. He was a talker, that was for damn certain.
She felt the rise and fall of his chest beneath her. His fingers strayed into her hair, tugging lightly. She made a contented noise. The skin that he left in his wake tingled, chilled by the mentholated oils. It was soothing.
She laid her hands on his thighs, and she felt him shift a bit.
He was glad she couldn't see his face. He bit his lip, and he could feel the scarlet flushing from his nose to his ears. Blood flooding to other places, too. Hence, the slight adjustment. He suddenly regretted everything. But, she looked so peaceful, her eyes closed, resting in his arms. Her chest rising and falling...and he had such a great angle, straight down her blouse. He swallowed and drew a shaky breath.
His slim fingers moved along the sides of her head, and down to her neck, massaging the base of her skull with his thumbs, fingers resting on the sides of her neck. Such a long, elegant neck.
The smell of the peppermint was overwhelming. But, he could smell her. She always smelled delicious. One of the guards always brought her the very expensive vanilla from the pantry, mixed with good bourbon. She used it as perfume. It was sweet, and woody, from the oak barrels the alcohol, was aged. He'd seen them do the handoff once, and the big, blonde man had given a hard look that effectively shut him up. Not that he would ever give her away. If she wanted to feel human, have nice things, she should have them. She deserved that.
His hands moved to her shoulders, pressing his thumbs along her spine.
"Thank you," she whispered, voice strained. His touch was so calming, so loving, so reverent. She had never been touched like this. And she was too tired to fight it. Tendrils and waves of static pinpricks moved across her body. Alternating warm and cool. She felt her nipples constricting and puckering, unbidden.
He smiled broadly down at her. Warmth radiating through his chest. Pleased that he had been successful. He didn't know just how successful. "Of course. I wouldn't let my patient suffer." Julian replied, coy.
She scoffed, sending an elbow playfully back into his torso. He stifled a laugh, trying to stay quiet.
"Do you feel better?" he asked, smoothing his hands down her arms, squeezing her biceps gently, then releasing her with a pat.
"Mmhm." She responded, moving onto her side, drawing her knees up. Her head resting on his chest. Of course, he was wearing one of those white shirts. And of course, it was unbuttoned. She could feel the course hairs brushing her cheek. The valley between his pectorals. That sobered her, a bit, and she stiffened, straightening, lifting her head from his chest, pulling away a bit to look up at his face.
She saw the flush of his cheek. His heavy-lidded eyes. The want.
And she sighed, resigned. Her heart breaking just a little bit more. But...maybe not breaking. Maybe just cracking open. Giving way.
"Will you stay with me?" she asked, not at all certain if this was the right thing to do. How could it be? And how couldn't it be? How could it be wrong?
He leaned forward and caught her lips. His only answer. It was a short kiss, but it didn't lack passion. His hand moved to her hip, and hers to his cheek. When they broke apart, he looked panicked.
