by May Peterson
Tibario curled himself protectively around me, and the darkness carried us away.
Chapter Fifteen
Tibario
I was crying as Violetta and I materialized out of the Deep. On the cool rooftop of a building in the flower district, a place I’d always wanted to come with her. It wouldn’t last. If the past few weeks had taught me anything, it was that we couldn’t expect anything to last. But for now, I held her, listened to her soothe me, and cried.
I didn’t want to be crying. Hellfire, Vi was the one who’d been betrayed. So many times, a victim of my grandiose negligence.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, trying to stop myself. She shouldn’t have to comfort me. Get it to-fucking-gether. “I’m sorry I let her hurt you. I gave her so many chances that weren’t mine to give. She got to practice being a reformed person on you, for my benefit, and you shouldn’t have had to endure that.”
Violetta didn’t answer immediately. Only stroked my back and whispered sounds of comfort. A kiss on the cheek, and gently wiping away my tears.
Then, her shy smile again, slightly sheepish. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her. I’d been afraid of her for so long it felt like old news.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t your job to tell me, it was her job not to do it. You don’t have a responsibility for the ways other people hurt you, Violetta.”
That seemed to surprise her, prompting a rueful laugh. “When you say it bluntly like that...”
“My family has a way of drawing others into harm’s way. What I needed to do was make sure my mother wasn’t a threat to you, and I was too focused on repairing...us. Her and me. Mio, Papa. But if the cost of us being family is that you and everyone else who matters has to face being harmed, it’s not worth it. We shouldn’t be a family.”
These may have been words said in rage, but here under the cloudless sky, with Vermagna sprawling at our feet, the admission carried no fire. It was simply the truth, rising from the ache in my chest. The truth I had been hoping against hope not to have to face.
“She can still reach both of us,” I said, half to myself.
“But she is the least of our worries.” Violetta quirked one side of her mouth. “If she wants to be the biggest problem, she better hurry. There are a lot of contenders.”
Like finding a proper shelter.
Casilio’s shadow left the entire city a questionable site, because nowhere existed where he didn’t have fingers of control. That was the insidiousness of his power: it was official, in plain sight. He didn’t have to leverage brute force. He merely had to invoke a point of policy, the city’s already conflicted relationship with mollyqueens, and he could make his daughter’s life more of a battlefield than it already was.
Safety, I was finding, was profoundly relative. Of all the unsafe places we could go, one stood out from the rest.
Rosalina and Weifan sat across from us at Rosalina’s kitchen table, Leo at the door conveying messages to the staff. Luncheon was in full force at the Fragrant Rose, but Rosalina had good help. Violetta’s insistence that this could wait seemed to peeve Rosalina more than persuade her. As if by a graceful magic of her own, she produced a pot of tea and an arrangement of savories and tea cakes while Weifan pumped the story out of us.
“I can’t believe she turned down the chance to flex her muscle.” Weifan paused to spit a too-hot pie bite from her mouth. “Ow. Your pie is trying to burn my tongue off. It shouldn’t be this delicious if it doesn’t want to be eaten right away.”
“I...don’t know what to make of it.” I tested the temperature of my own pastry with one fingertip. “My heart says maybe she’s really changing, that she’s sorry on some level, and she’s finally coming to understand why this is important. But I’ve been wrong about her so many times before.”
“She knows the prophecy.” Violetta was staring into a cup of milk tea, looking very oracular in her meditation. A curl wound endearingly around her ear, and I staved off the temptation to kiss her earlobe. Maybe not in front of company just yet. “The terms I gave her were that her possessing you would be how you’d die again. I didn’t wait to excavate the rest of the details. She takes the prophecy seriously, if nothing else.”
Rosalina raised both brows and sat back. “Serafina Gianbellicci is learning this lesson well—not to doubt the words of the Honored Child.”
“I hate being called that.” Violetta ran fingers through her hair, snatched a pastry off the plate and chewed vigorously. “I’m sorry, it never seemed right to complain about it before. But I despise that fucking title. The Honored Child sounds like something that belongs to my father, like some doll version of me that I was never supposed to outgrow being.”
Rosalina frowned in thought. “It also makes you sound like a literal child, which is rather uncouth to anyone who knows you. You harlot.”
That prodded a giggle from Violetta, and the sound of it sent warmth rushing from my head to my toes. The most adorable girl in the world.
Weifan reclaimed the formerly too-hot bite of pie with a dainty finesse. “How about something more...witch-sounding? Like the Honored Maiden.”
Violetta blushed. “I suppose.”
“Maiden of the Bright Blooms, Maiden of Portents and Violets, Maiden of Honeyed Prophecies.” Weifan waved the rest of her pastry in the air, appearing to wax with excitement. “I think I may be very good at coming up with these.”
Rosalina blinked. “Maiden of the Bright Blooms sounds like the name of a brothel. Not to say it shouldn’t be chosen on that basis, of course. But it’s a matter of marketing.”
I laughed, surprising myself, having to push my chair back so I could catch my breath. The force of the laughter called all eyes to me, halting the conversation. When I regained my wits, I wiped one eye. “So sorry. I could never keep up with you lot. You’re such good friends, I’m clearly the odd one out. All the more reason to be grateful for your help. I’ve been...very glad. To see this part of Violetta’s life.”
Rosalina smiled gently, and Weifan tucked her hands behind her head with a pleased expression. Violetta continued blushing, increasing that urge to kiss her. They must understand what I meant without me saying it. To see this part of her life before the end.
Violetta cleared her throat. “We still have the question of where we will stay.”
“There is no question.” Rosalina rose to refill the pot, pausing to exchange managerial nods with Leo. “You will stay here, or somewhere else nearby such that Weifan and I can keep an eye. Let Casilio come if he must, but we aren’t going to dance around his imaginary steps.”
I sighed, strangely relieved. She put to words precisely what I’d been hoping to say. Violetta bit her lip, looking faintly queasy, but nodded. “I just don’t like it. It’s as if fate keeps punishing everyone who gets close to me. I’m so tired of not being in control of it. I want the calyx charm back.”
That fell on the table like a dead weight. As much as I wanted to say otherwise, power truly did make everything easier. And no power had stood as surely against danger as the calyx charm in its fullness.
Mamma knew power. Holding on to her had felt like the one thing that could not be abandoned. Until I’d heard her speaking about controlling Violetta’s mind, and still having the shamelessness to demand more of her.
Who could I have been without you, Mamma?
Rosalina, as it turned out, had peace to spare. She put us up in a comfortable room upstairs, one with a little balcony and plenty of space for me and Violetta. This looked like the same room I’d visited Violetta in when she’d been staying before. Rosalina had quite an establishment; it seemed designed to not only house her business, but to have spare rooms for wayward members of her people, even some rented guest rooms for travelers. I couldn’t quite digest my childlike astonishment at the castle-like loveliness and flexibility of the Fragrant Rose.
It was all like a beautiful dream, one that my final days was gifting me. I thought of Violetta, her fear of losing her dream forever to the reality. I thought of the days remaining, and how many beautiful dreams we might at least get to taste before the tasting was done.
* * *
The following week rolled by like a stretch of cloud, revealing a luminous moon as they passed. A strange sacred bliss was in the air, so gentle and pervasive I was afraid to name it, to look at it too directly. If the end came unexpectedly, I wanted this to be the last thing I felt.
It was as if the rest of the world was melting away. Mamma and Papa and Mio and Casilio and Liliana, war and death and wounds and charms, the long-tangled story of victory and loss and betrayal that had brought us here. For a handful of holy hours, all that remained was the Fragrant Rose. Me, Rosalina, Leo, Weifan, and the regulars of the shop.
And Violetta. Always Violetta. The girl I had almost never known, that may have died a dream within me while the clouds fled the sky.
I became one of Rosalina’s bartenders. The night was a high point for her bar patrons, and was a popular time for anyone seeking festivity and music, so I fit naturally into it as if the role were shaped like a cat. I’d awaken at the crack of sunset, energized by the cool shade of evening. Then it was usually a raft of meat dishes, for filling my grumbly cat boy belly, and then I had the fun of donning dashing attire before rolling in to entertain guests. It was surprisingly fulfilling, especially since it gave me an excuse to make myself look as refined as Weifan did. Well, my best attempt anyway.
Weifan often tended the bar alongside me, showing me the ins and outs as well as handling the overflow of customers at our busiest hours.
A few times I caught Violetta watching me and Weifan talking and laughing. She wore a complexly peaceful expression, quickly dashed away with a grin when she saw me looking. I wanted to see that look on her face as long as I could. The way she looked when she didn’t know I could see, shimmers of happiness shining through.
I hoped it was happiness.
Violetta had taken to the nightlife with ease. My nocturnal rhythm soon became second nature for her, and there was an unforeseen benefit: she could stand in as acting mistress of the Rose during the late hours when Rosalina slept. It gave much more flexibility to their workdays, and they both seemed more relaxed. Rosalina had a stack of bookkeeping tasks, menu planning, organizing, and with Leo lending a hand and Violetta at the helm in the evening, the Fragrant Rose hummed with efficiency.
More than efficiency. Rosalina and Violetta often sat and talked about the house at night before Rosalina went upstairs, and they’d laugh and have a few drinks as Rosalina filled Vi in on the day’s adventures. It was plain as day that they were family. I felt honored to witness the world they shared here. This was Violetta’s home. More than any palace or temple, any place of pride above the kingdom. This was her home and her family was here, amidst the soft abiding scents of the Rose and its people.
Those people were more varied than I’d imagined. Some of the Rose’s regulars I already knew, and was happy to see again. But I’d pictured Rosalina’s people as she described them: the queers, sex traders, refugees, the cast-offs of society who made a new place for themselves. My privilege was far greater than theirs, even Violetta’s with a moneyed family in her past, so it felt like a fragile blessing to be welcome in such a crowd. I hadn’t anticipated so many faces from my old political norm, the mafia dons and their children fat on racket money, and the merchant folk from the finer halls of commerce. Men in crisp suits and with fake names, coming to spend time with queer lovers. Women in elegant attire who might be the wives and sisters of the old feudal families, perhaps finding some new life in the places of Vermagna once entirely off limits.
Was I like them? How many of us, the worn-out generation of postwar revolutionary youth, with our means both ill-gotten and fair, were seeking a greater freedom among people we would have avoided in the past? I’d been friends with Leo for years. But I had to ask myself the same thing I seemed to be asking myself continually these days—would I have ever let myself be this Tibario, live this life, and give up the fragments of status I’d once had, if I weren’t about to die?
But what never seemed to emerge was what changed if my answer was yes. I was here now. I was welcomed, deserving or not, and it was as Rosalina said. The choices needed making, and tomorrow I’d roll out of bed and make them again. I’d stay as long as I was not doing harm by being here.
The same quandary seemed to weigh on all of our minds, in spite of the relative cheer in the air. In the quiet hours after dawn, the four of us would often meet for a meal before Violetta and I turned in for the day, and before Rosalina began her oversight of the day’s business. Weifan’s schedule was more erratic, but she appeared at her girl’s side often like she had a bit of cat-soul in her.
Back in the kitchen, with no customers, the house felt dreamily displaced from the rest of the world, a tranquil oasis of warmth. We’d sit and go through leftovers or day-old pastries and ponder our fates over tea.
“I feel her coming,” Violetta said one morning, her tone uneasy. “She’s like a presence in the back of my mind, always. Her eyes cut through me.”
Weifan sat up, frowning. “Serafina?”
“No.” Violetta exuded a surprising vehemence. “My dragon. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she could be looking back from a hundred years in the future, or five minutes. But she’s getting closer. There’s a pressure, like a flood of...grief. I don’t know how to describe it. Maybe by the time the prophecy becomes true, that will be all that’s left of me.”
It was hard to comfort her like this. She knew her magic much better than we did, and by merit of that power, she was likely to be correct. It was one thing to reassure someone who was getting lost in worst-case scenarios, especially when you knew better about how things may really shake out. It was quite another when the worst-case scenario was a prophecy.
It struck me, with abrupt absurdity, that we were all staring down our doom because of a vision that none of us had seen, with no signs of it coming true yet. But it must be treated with respect. There was a reason we all believed this. This was Violetta. She had said war was coming and war came. She had lifted her hands against it, and the war was won.
“You said your father was at the heart of it.” Rosalina wore a cheerful face, giving the impression of it being an effort. “Does this mean he’s the answer? Or do we...”
Violetta pondered for a moment, then set a pouch on the table. “I have something to show you.”
Inside was a syringe. A large one, full of a thick amber fluid that gleamed faintly in the morning light. The appearance was strangely familiar. “I’ve seen Mamma with these. Whatever this formula is.”
“She gave these to me.” Violetta collected it back up and tucked the pouch into her sash. “She was actually being helpful at first. This is lachrysinthe, and if the witch lore is accurate, it is perhaps one of few things that can stop a dragon-soul.”
She explained the process Mamma had outlined for her, about the dangers of overdosing and the risk of triggering the dragon-soul’s survival response. It was all so surreal—the dragon-soul was always spoken of as an extension of the mage, some more wild and godlike version of them, and as a separate thing, and like a childbirth.
“I think I finally understand what the dragon-soul is going to do.” Violetta held her teacup in one hand midair, as if caught in the moment of lifting it without enough future to come along and finish things. “Why she’d even be here. I saw so much about what would happen, but the question has always been: if the dragon is me, with even only a speck of my consciousness left, why would I do this?” Pain cracked through her demeanor for a moment, like she was breathless with betrayal at the versions of her that were still coming into being. “Why would I destroy everything?”
Rosalina and Weifan exchanged b
rief glances. I reached across the table and grabbed her hand. It appeared to shake her from herself, and she looked at me with such clarity it was as though I’d stunned her. She nodded, brought the cup to her lips, and sipped. “But I get it now. Fate was turned around. It’s like a story that was ruined somewhere along the way, made so that it couldn’t follow its own logic and become completed anymore. Someone has to go back in and correct the story. To make the rest of our lives work as they should, so it’d all flow correctly to the end. I wondered if it was the war, or a death, or a life, or... I don’t know. But my gut’s telling me now: it’s the calyx charm.”
Rosalina made eye contact with me, a worried light waxing between us. She spoke gently. “You mean that you lost the calyx charm?”
“That’s just it.” Violetta gestured with animation, almost seeming excited now. It must have been a relief to have something like an answer. “I didn’t lose it. Not really, because it still exists. It’s keeping Father alive. I gave the charm to him somehow, or let it be taken, or...” She shook her head, seeming overwhelmed once again. “I don’t know how to explain it. But it’s my power protecting him, warped around him. It’s all going to him, concentrated around him, so that it’s almost like I don’t have any power left to use for anything else.”
“But what does that mean?” Weifan chewed on a scone with gusto. “If your magic is being drunk up by him, how could it become a dragon-soul? No one fully understands what a dragon-soul really is. It comes from a mage, but even in the grandest legends, the dragon-soul doesn’t last long. It’s like a shooting star. You’re talking about a dragon-soul that is lasting long enough to influence events across your whole life.”
“I don’t know if I am.” Violetta glanced at each of us in turn. “The relationship between me and the future isn’t linear like that, so if my dragon-soul can act in reverse, it wouldn’t have to exist for more than a few minutes, maybe seconds. And I thought of my dragon-soul as trying to maintain its own existence, but what if I got it backward? Maybe it’s trying to finally find the end of its existence, because it’s snagged on the past, the same way I become stuck in the future. It’s as if something keeps happening, here and now, that makes it impossible for me not to become a dragon-soul. It needs to end it, resolve the future in which it exists. And that could be the answer: what condition of our present state can’t be resolved any other way?”