Chapter Seven #2
‘Will still be standing when you return. Your problems can wait for a couple of hours.’ Unaccustomed to taking no for an answer, Alena steered Thea towards the door.
Thea gave in. There was something reassuring in it; in giving someone else the reins, in simply stepping away from the encroaching sadness. Telling it, not today. She flipped the Open sign over to Closed on her way out.
On Thea’s return, a large wooden box blocked the apothecary door. A red velvet bow and a note perched on top. The lid was stamped with the trademark golden crossed needle and thread of the Magic Quarter’s resident dressmaker: Fleur.
Thea hesitated. Her thoughts rustled with bloodied raven feathers, and this box was plenty large enough to conceal a bigger animal.
Talibah pulling that nail from Biscuit was a sound she’d never recover from; what if this box held something else macabre?
With an unsteady hand, she picked up the note:
I would be delighted if you would join me tomorrow night at the opera.
Yours,
Malek
‘A dress from Fleur?’ Rose popped her head round a new display of sunflowers outside the Rose Basket.
When the wind rustled their petals, they tinkled like bells.
Now and then, one turned its head and stared at the thorned roses standing guard behind them.
‘Those are mighty pretty dresses; Fleur learnt her craft at Versailles before she tired of court life.’ Rose fixed Thea with a knowing look. ‘There’s a note on it, too.’
‘Yes, there is.’ Thea smiled before carting the box inside. Knowing Rose, she’d probably already read the note; the Magic Quarter was really just a nosy village.
Inside, Thea toyed with the slip of paper.
It was a tempting invitation, not least because Josef Myslive?ek’s Il Bellerofonte was currently showing at the Divadlo v Kotcích, where Alena was singing the role of Argene, which Thea was desperate to see.
But was Malek inviting her to sweeten the deal with this key she was making, or was he expressing genuine interest in her, when she knew she could never love him in her heart-less state?
Zofka burst through the apothecary door, accompanied by a sharp peal of the bell and a sweet almond scent clinging to her pale pink skirts and frizzy curls.
Marzipan. It was a sure-fire sign that the season was growing colder and darker when Zofka began experimenting with festive treats.
‘Ooh, Fleur.’ Zofka joined Thea at the counter, giving the box a reverent stare. ‘What did you order?’
Talibah came on Zofka’s heels, the calm breeze to Zofka’s whirlwind. She pressed a kiss to Thea’s cheek. If Zofka was scented with marzipan, then Talibah was parchment and mint, books and tea. ‘We came to check in on you, Thea dear. I told Zofka what happened last night.’
Zofka’s head jerked up. ‘Yes, she did,’ she confirmed, her voice rising a pitch. ‘A raven nailed to your door? You poor thing, perhaps it isn’t safe here in the Quarter any longer—’
‘I’m not leaving my home,’ Thea interrupted before Zofka spiralled.
‘It was an act of desperation, a cry for attention. Nothing more. And we have a powerhouse of magical folk living in this Quarter working on fixing the wards as we speak. I am confident one of them will manage it, then I need not worry any more about whatever or whoever sent me that message. What is it?’ she asked as Zofka beamed at her.
‘You called this your home.’
‘Of course it’s my home, I live here—’
‘It was more than that,’ Zofka interrupted. ‘I felt it in your voice.’ She tipped her head to one side, considering Thea. ‘I used to wonder if you’d ever be happy here, after Lord Stiltskin left you stuck here and carried away your heart but . . . you are, aren’t you?’
Thea blinked back at her. ‘I guess I am,’ she said slowly.
‘You’re both here, and Cinnamon, and I enjoy making potions and meeting people and, well, I’ve made a home here.
’ She glanced at the wildflowers she’d painted on the walls, the remaining potions she’d stocked the shelves with, the street outside with its witch light gourds and gnarled oak trees and buttery cobblestones.
Happiness had been a slow creep over the past seven years, but she couldn’t deny that it was present.
Perhaps not as complete as it could have been with love missing from her life but there, nonetheless.
‘Do you need me to stay with you again tonight?’ Talibah asked.
Thea shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said as if she believed it herself. She hadn’t realised how much she’d depended on the wards protecting them all until their defences had cracked and Pan Novak had stridden through.
‘What about—’ Talibah began, but Zofka had grown too restless.
‘Never mind that now, Talibah.’ Zofka drummed her fingers on the box lid. ‘The man with the dimple has sent her a gift.’
Thea grimaced. ‘Forget baking, you ought to solve mysteries. However did you know?’ She held the note up between her fingers. ‘I know that you couldn’t have read this.’
‘There was a note?’ Zofka attempted an eager grab.
Talibah swatted her away. ‘Honestly, must you force your nose in everywhere? Perhaps Thea doesn’t want you reading her personal correspondences.’
Zofka wrinkled her pert nose. ‘It’s part of my charm,’ she said mildly. ‘And I knew that you,’ she added, facing Thea, ‘would never spend the amount that Fleur charges for her gowns. You’d much rather spend it all on books instead.’
‘That’s quite true,’ Thea admitted, relinquishing the note.
Zofka eagerly snatched it.
Despite herself, Talibah leant in to read it over Zofka’s shoulder. As one, both women lifted their gaze to Thea. ‘What?’ she asked, self-consciously.
‘This is, well . . . this is the kind of gesture that belongs in one of those books you inhale,’ Talibah said.
‘It’s deeply romantic,’ Zofka added. Her eyes glistened.
Thea worried at her bottom lip.
Talibah looked curiously at the box. ‘What did he order for you?’
‘I haven’t opened it yet,’ Thea confessed, curling one of the ribbon ends around a finger. ‘If I open it then that means this is real, and that means—’
‘No,’ Zofka groaned. ‘No overthinking this. Just open the box and look at the pretty dress, Thea. Opening it does not mean that you need to make any decisions, it will only give you more options. A fuller picture. Although why you’d turn him down baffles me.’
‘Perhaps because she cannot be bought?’ Talibah raised an eyebrow at Zofka, who happily ignored her, seizing a pair of pruning scissors from the counter and passing them to Thea.
‘Open it.’
Thea opened the box. Brocaded silk spilled over her hands. All three women let out a reverent sigh: it was a gown of deepest, darkest blue. Midnight.
Talibah lifted a panel to examine the delicate design. ‘Oh, look.’ Crimson roses bloomed, their petals curling before dropping from the stems, where they became autumn leaves, golden and russet and caramel brown.
‘How perfectly enchanting.’ Zofka gave Thea a pointed look.
Happiness, sweet and soft as honey, seeped through Thea until she glowed.
Just when life was starting to harden, to make its rough edges felt, it had thrown her a shimmer of magic.
A little promise that no matter what might or might not come to pass, there were still pockets of joy.
Of lovely little things. That hate might exist in this world but so did love and magic.
‘I think I shall go after all. I’ll send him a raven tonight. ’