4 - Ariadne #2
I shall not dignify that with a response , Iona retorts, her thoughts immediately going to Ksenia.
Ariadne grimaces and reluctantly accepts that she has no room to criticize.
She’s glad when Iona does not follow her onto the street, but her relief is short-lived when she hears the sound of footsteps behind her.
Glancing over her shoulder, she grunts angrily when Crescentia runs to catch up to her.
She quickens her pace until they reach a small square with a tiered fountain at its center.
“Ariadne, wait!” Crescentia calls.
“You need not apologize for your idiotic comment.”
“I did not come to apologize.”
“What then?” Ariadne snaps as she whirls around to face her.
Crescentia looks down at her hands, hesitating as she gathers her thoughts.
“Cat got your tongue?” Ariadne asks, unable to stop herself.
Crescentia scowls. “Clever.”
“Thank you,” Ariadne smirks.
“Can I expect snide remarks like those throughout your visit?”
“I tend to express my discontent to a person’s face, if that is what you are asking.”
“Oh, come off it.” Crescentia rolls her eyes. “As if I were the first witch to speak ill of the Zerynthos family.”
“You did not speak of my family. You spoke of my character and my supposed propensity for violence,” Ariadne reminds her.
“Shall we be at odds forever as a result?”
At first the question is accusatory but as the seconds tick by, Crescentia’s expression grows increasingly contrite.
“Forgive me,” she says softly. “I deeply misjudged you. After what you did for Iona, and for me…”
Crescentia runs her fingers over her new witch’s mark. The laurel is starkly green against the pale skin of her wrist. “I owe you my life.”
Ariadne is not unaffected by her apology but finds it quite convenient. She had years to say this before and chose to do so now that Ariadne is bonded to her new, powerful friend.
“I thought you were not apologizing,” Ariadne says.
“Not for what I said in there,” Crescentia says, gesturing behind her.
“And why is that?”
“I meant it. Iona has much less to fear with you at her side. Your name and reputation far precede you.”
“As a damaged, impetuous rake?” Ariadne scoffs. “I am sure her association with me will only prove to be a hindrance.”
She squeezes her eyes shut as regret fills her. She’d not meant to speak so candidly, and now Crescentia will run off and repeat it to Iona.
“You are Iona’s protector,” Crescentia says. “Fated. Or so she tells me.”
“She trusts you far more than you deserve,” Ariadne says.
“I would rather die than betray her confidence,” Crescentia says with such fervency that her face goes red with passion. “I’ve learned from my mistakes. As have you, I presume.”
Ariadne hates the accusation in her words, and the flush that creeps up her neck at the mention of her feud with Iona.
Crescentia’s expression softens. “Allow me to help-”
“I do not require your help in protecting my woman,” Ariadne says.
“Your temper still runs hot,” she observes. “You cannot run the moment a conversation turns ugly or stay to rage at whoever provokes you.”
Ariadne frowns at the far too accurate description of her impulsivity, and mutters, “This is perhaps the finest apology I’ve ever witnessed.”
“I know how to play this game far better than you do,” Crescentia says. “I know how to win the covens’ affection, gain their trust, without possessing a drop of sempiterna blood.”
Ariadne examines her expression and finds nothing to indicate duplicity. Crescentia takes a step closer.
“I should not be the only witch to benefit from Iona’s generosity. I will stand with her,” she says. “Will you let me?”
Ariadne sighs and pushes stray hairs from her eyes. “Iona does not require my permission to ally herself with you. I am not her keeper. I am her partner.”
“I am not implying otherwise,” Crescentia says. “However, if you are against me, it will make matters much more complicated. Needlessly so.”
She stares into Crescentia’s expectant amber eyes and decides that she does respect her decision to speak plainly with her, without pretense, or so it would seem.
Ariadne had once thought of Crescentia first when the malefician’s identity was still unknown, but in that she had made her own misjudgment. Perhaps this quarrel is as impractical as it is counterproductive.
“Navigating high society will not be Iona’s only obstacle,” Ariadne says.
“What do you mean?” Crescentia asks.
Ariadne hesitates. She and Iona hadn’t discussed what they should say about Goncalo’s murder.
She does not wish to cause a panic, or to spread rumors at the expense of Iona’s grieving family, but word will inevitably spread as it always does.
Perhaps this could be a preliminary test of Crescentia’s supposed loyalty.
“I shall tell you, but you must promise not to tell a soul,” Ariadne says.
“I swear,” Crescentia says, and upon seeing Ariadne’s persisting hesitance, she says again, “I swear on my life.”
Ariadne tells her of the maleficium ritual site, of Goncalo’s heart being stolen from his chest.
Crescentia’s face goes pale with fear. “But… we’ve only just narrowly survived Elise. Is this what we should come to expect from now on? Are we to be overrun…”
“It is either horrid luck, or something far more sinister,” Ariadne says. “It is too soon to tell.”
Crescentia worries at her bottom lip as she becomes lost in thought. “What would you have me do?”
“There is nothing you can do. You are not a champion,” Ariadne says. “Or a soldier for that matter.”
“Neither is Iona,” Crescentia points out. “Champion or no, she is peaceful by nature, unless provoked.”
“She has no need to fight. I have protected her before and if I must, I shall do so again.” Ariadne leans against her staff, studying Crescentia for a moment more, before making her decision. “Iona is more than capable of choosing her friends and allies. If she accepts you, I will respect that.”
Crescentia nods, relief evident in her expression. “Thank you.”
Then Ariadne takes a step forward, closing the distance between them, and glares down at her.
“But if you give me reason to doubt, if I see any sign of duplicity or self-serving behavior, I will…” Ariadne thinks for a moment, her eyes resting on the laurel mark. “I will take back what was given to you.”
Crescentia takes a step back, “But… you cannot do that.”
“Can’t I?” Ariadne asks, raising an eyebrow. “Do not tempt me to give it a try.”
Crescentia gulps and puts her hand over her mark, as if doing so would protect it.
“I already told you that I would never hurt her,” Crescentia says, her voice trembling.
“Perfect. Then we have nothing to fear from one another,” Ariadne says. “Let us return before we should be missed.”
Crescentia nods quickly and turns to walk back to her family’s home.
“And Crescentia?”
Crescentia looks back and regards her with caution.
“I accept your apology,” Ariadne says. “You have always been a true friend to Iona and for that I thank you. My judgement of you at college proved just as erroneous, and I am glad to have been wrong.”
Crescentia’s expression softens again, and she opens her arms for an embrace.
“No, no.” Ariadne cringes and holds out a hand to stop her. “None of that.”
Crescentia rolls her eyes and snorts. “I know not how Iona can stand your mercurial nature. You’re mad as an adder.”
“I am perfectly sane, thank you,” Ariadne says with indignance.
Crescentia’s chuckles persist as they walk in stride with each other.
“If I did not know better, I’d say your patron goddess was Lyssa, not Hecate,” Crescentia jokes.
“Do not jest about that,” Ariadne snaps, looking around nervously.
Crescentia’s smile fades as she follows Ariadne’s gaze. They wait in tense silence, but nothing happens. After waiting a moment longer, Ariadne motions for Crescentia to continue on and soon they can see the house from around the corner.
“You should know better than to provoke a Goddess,” Ariadne whispers.
“I meant nothing by it,” Crescentia says, peering at her with morbid curiosity. “What have you told Iona of your family’s dealings with Hecate?”
“I have mentioned it… just not in detail,” Ariadne says. “And it shall remain so until I decide to discuss it.”
“And when will that be?” Crescentia asks.
“Soon,” Ariadne says, noncommittally.
“How precisely does that work? I thought a blood bond left your memories and thoughts exposed. Certainly, Iona should have seen every one of your secrets by now,” Crescentia says.
“She would need to willfully attune to my mind to discover specific memories. Our perception of feelings can at times be involuntary but only when they are at the forefront, too strong a thought to ignore. Beyond those flashes of compulsory insight, our minds are our own,” Ariadne says, lifting her chin a fraction.
“Besides, my mind is far too vast for her to find anything without first knowing what she searches for.”
Crescentia snorts. “Humility still escapes you, I see?”
“My intelligence is renowned,” Ariadne says.
“Embellished,” Crescentia corrects her. “Anyhow, I’d search my lover’s brain back to front within a day. I couldn’t resist the temptation.”
“And that is precisely why you shall never convince a respectable man to bond with you,” Ariadne retorts.
“Perhaps she has already surveyed your tumescent mind and is too polite to inquire on what she found,” Crescentia says.
The prospect horrifies Ariadne to her core, but she shakes her head. “Not so. I would have noticed if she had. She would have… Her countenance would have changed when addressing me.”
“But she could look if she desired it?” Crescentia asks.
“She wouldn’t,” Ariadne insists. “This is Iona we are speaking of. She would never.”
“I know,” Crescentia agrees.
“Then why are you harping on it?” Ariadne snaps.
“Whether Iona sees it in your mind or not, she will learn of your past,” Crescentia warns. “Better to address it now before another meddling witch alludes to it first, and Iona has reason to search.”