The Wilting Carnation
“You went out early,” Mistress Vincenza comments as she unlocks the front door to let me in.
“I thought I should have breakfast, Mistress,” I whisper.
“Then it’s good I gave you a key,” she says. “Do you have any arrangements after the store closes?”
“Not tonight, Mistress.”
“A treat. You’ll be accompanying me as I make some purchases. Stay on good behavior, and I’ll take you to an empty lot to get you familiar with the car.”
I jump into a straightened and aristocratic posture. “I absolutely will, Mistress.”
Her posture is instead broken as she softly laughs. “No matter how many times you repeat ‘Mistress,’ I cannot take you seriously with anellini on your shoulder.”
“Oh, what—Sorry!” I sweep it off.
“You even got some sauce in your hair. Let me.” She retrieves a handkerchief, brushing at my shoulder. “Did Stella not give you any sort of loose cloth?”
It’s possibly demeaning, but in some way she cares enough to clean me up herself instead of making a demand, which places a strangely fluffy feeling in my heart.
“No. Uh, and th-thanks, Mistress.”
She cleans up a final hair strand and steps back. “It’s your own preference, but I’d recommend learning to tie your hair. It will only ever be mandatory during ritual casting, though.”
I run a hand through it. “I don’t know how.”
The gentle tones of her voice finally lift away, giving precedence to her foundational authority. “You’ll be shown how.”
“When?”
“Unless you want it now, then it’ll be when you need a ritual done.”
“I choose now?”
“Great Ring’s mercy on this woman,” Mistress Vincenza mumbles. “Sit down in the armchair. I’ll grab some string for you.”
The moment demands I hug her, but in lue of that, I instead give her a grand smile as I submit to her request. “Thanks, Mistress!”
Armchair’s still as comfortable as it’s always been. Even nicer after a half hour of walking. Could be nicer with waffles. Maybe I’ll have some for dinner.
Mistress Vincenza worldlessly enters the circle of bookshelves and steps behind me. Her fingers slowly run over my scalp and through my hair—finding several knots that I apparently missed.
“C-could you be slow?” I beg.
“I will. You’ll have plenty of time for your own routine once you replace makeup with magic.”
“I was hoping I could just keep that extra time for myself.”
“It never works like that,” she states bluntly.
I sigh, not actually in disappointment though. This feels nice, like a massage.
“This is a lesson, not a massage.” She digs a brush through my hair, holding onto the side of my head to keep it still. “Grab the mirror on the table to study what I’m doing.”
“What mirror?” The table looks empty.
“Right th—“ She inhales. “I’ll make Piero grab us one when he comes in.”
“Won’t we be finished by then?”
“Not with your hair.”
I, slightly less than intentionally, lean into her hand. “Is he your only sibling?”
Her brushing hesitates. “He told you that?”
“Was I not supposed to know?”
“You didn’t need to know. My family life doesn’t need your perspective.”
“Does that mean I won’t get an answer… M-mistress?”
“He’ll happily tell you if you ask him anyway, so yes, he’s my only sibling.” She adds, “and don’t ask anything else unrelated to your studies.”
My ability to attract a patron is very much related to my studies, so it is therefore relevant and good for me to ask: “do I appear homosexual to you?”
“Aren’t you bisexual?”
“I’m not asking that! Do—do… do I have the appearance that I’m gay?”
“I asked Stella to give you a gown in the style of the Vampire Queen, but heterosexual women also emulate her appearance. I don’t think you appear any way in particular.”
“Okay. Piero assumed I was homosexual, and I was wondering if… uh. I don’t know.”
“Piero thought that?” She leans her head over mine to peer at my face. “He always had a better sight for that than me. So trust his perspective.”
“Why is he better able to tell?”
She turns her head, staring off while reciting, “we were both there when the Immortal Queens took their throne. They, and their soldiers, completely turned around the relationship rights of women overnight. Men were complicated.
“It wasn’t illegal, but besides Field Marshal Onisko, there were no prominent homosexual men—not compared to the Queens, certainly. He had to learn to identify other homosexuals while I… This conversation has gone beyond the scope of your studies.”
I droop my eyes. “About my studies, will you ever give me lectures? Is it only just books and spells?”
“There’s mathematics too. How’s your calculus?”
“I think I can do U-substitution?”
“Vectors?”
“Never touched them.”
“Then tomorrow night, I’ll assess you to create a lesson plan.
While my focus is on turning you into a necromancer, every profession benefits from mathematics.
Sciences too. We are a subsection thereof.
“ She places down the brush and starts collecting my hair. “I know there’s no mirror; you’ll get your full lesson next time. What style do you want this in?”
“Like yours? It looks nice on you.”
She parts out my hair to leave loose strands in front of my face, barely grazing my cheeks with her fingers. “It’s a traditional take on the Vampire Queen’s bun. This is aesthetic, so I’ll let you keep the loose strands, but those have to go for actual spellcasting.”
I nod to impress the idea that I understand what she means.
“Stop quivering,” she demands.
The front door opens, letting in a font of cold air.
She sighs under her breath but keeps working on my hair.
“Vincenza?” Piero walks around the floor, until he investigates our corner and breaks into laughter.
“You’re typically here sooner,” Mistress Vincenza disdainfully comments.
“Don’t worry, I’m here now. Just keep going while I watch,” he snickers.
She grumbles but keeps working.
“Hi, Piero.” I wave to him.
“Hi back, Vincenza’s apprentice.” He covers his mouth. “Is she treating you well?”
“Okay.”
“Do not indulge him,” she interrupts.
“Don’t listen to her. Indulge me,” he requests.
“I am your mistress; he is not. Do you want to test me?”
“M-maybe a little? Mistress?” I offer.
“Fuck, you two are terrible.” Piero leans against the shelf, cackling. “It reminds me so much of… It’s so nice to see you smile, Vincenza.”
“Is she smiling?” I turn my head up to look, but she grabs my skull and keeps it still.
“Radiantly,“ he replies.
“You talk to her too often, and with far too little academic value,” Mistress Vincenza complains.
I perk my ears. She does sound a bit like she’s smiling, slightly—unwillingly.
“I’m finished. Catarina, could you tend the desk while me and Piero have a discussion in the back?”
“Uh, sure, yeah. Of course, Mistress.”
“Such a wonderful apprentice.” Without turning around to reveal her face, she steps forward, grabs Piero by the scruff of his neck, and drags him away.
I did promise to work, but I’m burning to find out what I look like. So I run up to my room and—Oh, never mind. She left the hand mirror on the circulation desk.
Wow, it’s nice. Maybe I should try something different from hers for variety; but on its own, it really fits the necromancer look. My brown hair isn’t particularly the white or black that’s common for them, but I can dye it if I want to. I don’t. But if I want to.
A man in dark robes enters the parlour. “Hey, is Vincenza here?”
I flail to hide away the mirror and my vane preening. “She’s in the back. What do you need?”
“I wanted to know if she was hosting an event here soon.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing planned.”
“Shame. I thought it would be a fun date.” He leaves.
I blink and pick back up the mirror.