22. Caution
22
Caution
Rosalind woke up to warm sunlight streaming onto her face. She blinked away the sleep from her eyes and glanced around to find herself alone in the bedroom.
The clock on the wall showed it was a little past eleven thirty. She couldn’t recall the last time she had slept in so late, but there was no denying it had served her well, as she felt surprisingly refreshed.
After dressing, she made her way downstairs and spotted Valentina chatting with Quinn at a table at the far end of the tavern. A bright smile blossomed across Valentina’s face as soon as she saw her.
“You’re awake! I’m so glad to see you finally up and about. You must be famished. Come and sit.” She patted a spot beside her on the bench.
As if on cue, Rosalind’s stomach let out an audible grumble. “I could eat.”
“I’ll go and put something nice and filling together,” Quinn said, hurrying to the kitchen. Shortly after, she returned with a coffee in one hand and a heaping plate of boiled eggs, fresh bread, sausages, and a generous serving of chocolate rice porridge.
At first glance, there seemed to be far too much food, but less than ten minutes later, Rosalind had finished nearly all of it, except for a slice of bread, so as not to appear gluttonous, of course. She offered a sheepish smile when met with Valentina’s raised brows .
“I’m impressed,” Valentina commented. “Though not surprised, seeing as it’s been a while since you last ate.”
“Yes, I daresay none of us had much to eat yesterday, what with everything going on. Hard to have an appetite when you’re full of nerves.”
Valentina and Quinn exchanged a look.
“Ros, love,” Valentina began, “how long do you think you’ve been asleep?”
Rosalind shrugged. “A bit longer than usual, I suppose, seeing as it’s nearly noon now.” She didn’t miss the uneasy smile that flitted across Quinn’s face. "Am I mistaken?"
Valentina lightly patted the top of her hand. “It’s been a bit longer than that… three days, to be precise.”
“Three days?” Rosalind repeated incredulously. Her gaze darted back and forth between the two women, half expecting one of them to laugh as if it were a joke. But neither did.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing to be alarmed by,” Valentina explained. “Constance assured us it’s not uncommon for people to require plenty of rest when they’ve had magic siphoned from them, particularly after their first time.”
“I see…” Rosalind hoped she was being truthful and not merely saying so to make her feel better. Preferring not to dwell on it any longer, she shifted the focus to Valentina. “What have you gotten up to in my absence?”
“Nothing much, although Quinn here did show me how they make their blackberry brandy. I’m thinking of giving it a go when we return home.”
Valentina’s mention of home conjured up a string of words from recent memory. I convinced myself it wasn’t the right time and that it would be better to wait until things had settled down and we were back at Brighthall.
Jonathan had said it to her the last time they spoke, but she never learned what he’d been referring to. Not yet, at least. Perhaps she would find out today. At that thought, Rosalind glanced about the tavern for any sign of him.
Valentina spoke. “He’s not here. He left yesterday with the Masons.”
“Oh?” Rosalind felt her throat constrict a little. “Padraic is doing well then, I take it?”
“He is. A bit frazzled still but in good spirits, all things considered.”
Rosalind forced a smile. “That’s good to hear.”
She stared down at her plate, pushing crumbs around with her spoon. She was happy to hear Padraic was improving. Truly, she was. Yet, the feeling was muddled with disappointment; Jonathan had left without saying goodbye.
“He wanted to stay until you woke up,” Valentina explained, “but whatever they intend to do couldn’t be delayed any longer.”
Rosalind nodded. “I understand,” she said quietly. There was nothing more she could say without sounding insincere. Besides, it wasn’t as if Valentina hadn’t already seen right through her, as evidenced by the sympathy in her eyes.
The table had only just fallen silent when Valentina slapped both hands on it, making Rosalind and Quinn jump. “You know what? I think my brandy-making endeavors would greatly benefit from someone more proficient in the kitchen. Can you imagine me over a stove?” Leaning toward Quinn, she added, “Ros is quite skilled at baking, you know. It’d be good to let her in on the process.” She looked at Rosalind. “What do you say?”
Rosalind knew what her friend was doing. She wanted to say no. She wanted to find a quiet corner and sulk for a while. But she knew Valentina wouldn’t have it. If this didn’t work, she’d try something else—and likely bring more people into it, which is the last thing Rosalind wanted. Besides, it was Valentina’s way of showing affection, and she didn’t have the heart to deny it. And so, she acquiesced.
“I say, why not?”
“Lovely.” Valentina beamed. “The first thing we must understand is what the end product should taste like. How else are we to know if we succeeded?”
Later that evening, hues of pink, orange, and purple colored the sky as Rosalind and Valentina ventured back to the tavern after an extended walk about town. Each carried with them an item purchased during their perusal of street vendors. For Valentina, it was an exquisite little hand-carved wooden jewelry box. For Rosalind, it was a pouch of anemone bulbs she thought would make a lovely addition to the courtyard garden.
As they approached, they noticed Sylvan leaning against the wall of the tavern. He appeared to be waiting for them.
“Miss Carver. Princess,” he said in greeting as he pushed himself off the wall. “I was wondering if I could have a word with the two of you.”
“We were just about to grab ourselves a drink. Care to join us?” Valentina asked.
Sylvan nodded and proceeded to hold the door open for them. “Away from the crowd, if you don’t mind.”
Valentina found a spot at the far end of an empty table. She was about to leave Rosalind to gather the drinks when Sylvan gestured for her to sit. He made his way to the bar, joining them a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and three glasses.
“You found glasses. I’ve only seen mugs here before,” Valentina commented.
Sylvan shrugged. “Spied some underneath the bar and figured we’d put them to use. See what you’re on about. ”
What she’s on about? Rosalind glanced from Sylvan to Valentina, sensing there was something she was missing. As Sylvan poured their drinks, Rosalind noticed the hint of a smile flit across Valentina’s lips. She was most definitely missing something.
“Right,” Sylvan began as soon as he sat down, “there are some things you ought to know concerning your circumstances.”
“Circumstances?” Rosalind repeated. “As in me being a—”
“Yes, that,” he interjected. In a lowered voice, he went on. “I caution you to tread lightly when discussing such matters in public. You never know who may be listening.”
Rosalind’s eyes widened in alarm.
“Look, I don’t mean to frighten you,” he said. “Actually, yes I do. It’s much more effective in terms of getting the point across.”
“I can assure you it’s working…” she muttered.
“Good, because it’s imperative you understand what’s at stake if the wrong person were to discover what you are.”
“And that would be?” Valentina pressed.
“Her freedom,” Sylvan said. “Possibly her life.”
Rosalind swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.
“You are an untethered source of considerable magic,” he explained. “With you by their side, a wielder could perform incredibly powerful enchantments whenever and wherever they pleased.”
“And if she were to refuse? To deny them the magic?” Valentina inquired.
“It doesn’t work like that, at least not in Miss Carver’s case.”
“What do you mean?”
“Without the ability to wield, she has no command over the magic within her. She can’t withhold the magic just as she can’t give it away freely. Only through siphoning can the magic be extracted and…” He hesitated. “That doesn’t require her explicit consent.”
“Let me get this straight,” Valentina replied with an unmistakable edge to her voice. “Any wielder can take the magic from within her body and do with it whatever they wish? And on top of that, there is essentially nothing she can do about it?”
Sylvan didn’t respond right away, but he didn’t have to. The prolonged silence between them was answer enough. When he next spoke, it was to offer advice.
“Your safest bet is to prevent others from discovering what you are in the first place.”
Rosalind recalled her first night in Ashwind when Sylvan took hold of her wrist. “All it takes is a touch?” she asked, in little more than a whisper, though she was quite certain she already knew the answer.
“If a wielder were to come in contact with your bare skin, yes, they would know.”
Strangled laughter escaped Rosalind. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Freed from a decades-long enchantment that prevented her from touching the opposite sex, only to discover she must now attempt to evade contact with everyone.
“Ros, I know what you’re thinking, but it isn’t the same.” Valentina reached out to clasp her hand. “In this, you have control. You didn’t before, but you do now.”
Rosalind desperately wanted to believe what she was saying was true, but she struggled to think past how unfair it all seemed.
“I don’t want this,” she muttered. “I didn’t ask for this. I don’t—I don’t deserve this.” She looked up at Valentina. “Do I?”
“No, love, you don’t,” her friend replied softly. “Now, I think it only fair to let you have the rest of the evening to wallow in self-pity. But come tomorrow, we must begin preparations.”
“Preparations?”
“No time to waste,” Valentina avowed. “As soon as we return to Brighthall, we’ll commission a new wardrobe for you. Dresses and shirts with sleeves. And gloves! Yes, gloves for all sorts of occasions. What else…” she muttered as she tapped a finger against her cheek in thought. “We’ll need to inform Louis and Maria, of course. But I reckon it’s best if we don’t say anything to the rest of the household for now. You know Charlene, a bit of a chatterbox and a reliable gossip. Frankly, it’s one of my favorite things about her, but I don’t think it would serve us well in this case. Unfortunately, we’ll have to wait to update Jonathan when he returns. I don’t think it’s wise to commit it to paper.”
Rosalind couldn’t help but smile as she listened to her friend think through other considerations aloud. Even in the darkest of times, she could never feel genuinely hopeless or alone with Valentina by her side.
Glancing over at Sylvan, she was surprised to find he also wore the beginnings of a smile. Was he amused by Valentina’s ramblings or possibly even impressed? Once she could think past the unease that muddled her wits, Rosalind would set out to determine what precisely was going on between them.
Valentina turned to Sylvan. “Are there any tell-tale signs that could indicate whether or not someone is a wielder?”
“Magic has a particular scent of cloves and spices. That would be one indication, though it’s easy enough to conceal with perfumes and such. Alternatively, Miss Carver might see the magic on their person if they’d wielded it recently. Then again, it could be that they’re merely wearing an imbued artifact of some sort. More likely than not,” Sylvan continued, “if a wielder is hiding amongst high society, living under the nose of New Law elitists, I suspect they’ll have taken great pains to disguise themselves.”
“Yes, good point,” Valentina murmured. Then her face lit up. “You mentioned imbued artifacts—might there be some Ros could use to her benefit?”
“I should think so. I can confer with Constance and report back. Admittedly, I’m neither skilled nor well-versed in imbuement.”
“That would be a great help, thank you. ”
Rosalind was tempted to pinch herself to make sure she was actually awake. It was just so odd watching how amiable they were being with one another.
“Speaking of skills you lack,” Valentina said not a moment later, “I do think it couldn’t hurt to learn how to divulge critical information with a bit more nuance. Don’t get me wrong, your brevity is highly appreciated, but I do think it can be quite jarring to those with more delicate sensibilities.” She nodded in Rosalind’s direction.
That was more like it. It was the first slight she’d heard between them all evening. However, in this instance, the jibe wasn’t exclusive to Sylvan. Delicate sensibilities, really?
“Nuance, ay?” Sylvan remarked with one brow raised. “When you told Miss Carver here that she was limited to a single night of woe after learning she’ll have to spend the rest of her life watching her back—is that the ‘bit more nuance’ you speak of? If so, I think I can manage it.”
The following day, Rosalind and Valentina packed their belongings and hauled them down the stairs. Quinn greeted them with a hearty breakfast, and after they’d eaten their fill, it was time to set off for the train station.
A small crowd gathered outside the tavern to see them off. Most were there to see Valentina. She had grown closer with many of them in the days Rosalind was recovering. Even Leon, Quinn’s frowning father, beamed as she approached, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace.
In truth, Rosalind was glad to have only a few people to say farewell to. She was still raw from the conversation the night before and was hesitant to shake hands with anyone who didn’t already know her secret. She said goodbye to Quinn and Constance, thanking them for their help and hospitality. Then, she shook hands with Keeper Saintgarden, who imparted choice words of wisdom.
“Take care of yourself, Miss Carver,” she said with a knowing look. “Your circle may be small, but trust and loyalty lie deep. Don’t be afraid to rely on them; it’s clear they rely on you.”
“We should be off soon, ladies,” Tory called out. He was seated next to his grandmother on the same wooden cart they had followed on their way into Ashwind a week ago. Not far off stood Sylvan, who held the reins of the horse they were to travel on.
Valentina approached and gently stroked the horse’s shoulder. “Esther,” she said affectionately. “Hello, old friend.”
She turned to Sylvan and held his gaze. They didn’t speak, only stood there considering one another. As they did, Rosalind caught the twitch of Valentina’s lips as if she were holding back a smile. Eventually, Valentina inclined her head and proffered her farewell in the form of a single word. “Sylvan.”
Rosalind could hardly believe her ears when Sylvan inclined his head in answer and replied, “Valentina.” Then he held out his hand.
Valentina glanced down at it before meeting his gaze once more. She took hold of his hand and lifted herself onto the horse. Rosalind knew full well her friend hadn’t needed the help. Sylvan likely knew that as well and yet he still offered. And Valentina accepted. This was all the evidence Rosalind needed to confirm there was a newfound deference between them that hadn’t been there before.
Rosalind required more than a little help from Sylvan as she gracelessly settled atop the horse and wrapped her arms around Valentina’s waist.
“You’re lucky I’m accustomed to corsets, or there’d be no way I could survive the ride with you holding on to me so tight.”
And with that, they were on their way.
The train car felt more spacious with only the two of them in it this time around. Rosalind looked from the grassy plains visible through the window to where Valentina sat across the way. She wasn’t sitting so much as lying across the bench, legs tucked in close. Her eyes were shut, and her breaths came slow and steady.
Rosalind was fiddling with a handkerchief in her lap when she decided she, too, should take a little nap. It’d help the time go by faster. She went to slip the handkerchief in her pocket when something brushed her hand. She pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. Opening it up, she noted the familiar scrawl. The blotchy periods indicated haste, but each letter remained neat and legible. Though the note lacked a signature, she didn't need one to know who penned it.
I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. I promise to finish what I started when I return. Until then, please understand not everything is as it appears.