13 - Iona
S he startles awake when she notices how rested she feels.
“Ari,” Iona shakes her shoulder.
“What? What is it?” Ariadne’s eyes pop open in surprise, and a protective shield encapsulates them. When she sees there is no danger, she slumps against the pillow and her grip on her staff goes slack.
“We slept too long.” Iona yawns and stretches her deliciously sore muscles.
Then she freezes in place when she marks the sun’s position through the window. It is still rising, just as it had been when they fell asleep.
“But…” Iona says.
Ariadne stretches and groans. She puts her arms behind her head and gazes at her with appreciation, then bolts upright. “Your chemise.”
Iona glances down at her nakedness, then up at Ariadne who has both her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide.
“It’s still in the solarium?” Iona squeaks.
Ariadne laughs through her fingers and Iona shoves her shoulder.
“We must find it before someone else does!” She leaps out of bed and quickly conjures on clothes.
“Don’t fret,” Ariadne says through her laughter. “They’ll convene in the dining room for breakfast. We can go and fetch it before anyone should notice.”
There’s a knock on the door and Moira calls, “Happy Solstice! Cease whatever lurid act you’re in the midst of and get dressed.”
“Leave us be, Moira.” Ariadne throws a pillow at the door.
“Do not go back to sleep or Mother will be cross,” Moira says. “We are all gathering in the solarium for coffee and cakes.”
Iona smacks her hand against her forehead, and Ariadne snorts with laughter.
“Your grandmother and cousin arrived unannounced this morning,” Moira says, in a less enthused tone.
Ariadne stops laughing abruptly, then jumps out of bed and runs to the door, pulling it open to say, “Nonna and Frankie are here?”
“Yes, so look alive! It’s rude to keep them waiting,” Moira says, appearing regal as ever in her coral pink dress. She turns on her heels and saunters down the hall without another word.
“Nonna and Frankie, your father’s mother and nephew?” Iona says, trying to keep track.
“Wear blue,” Ariadne suggests. “It is Nonna’s favorite color. And leave your hair down. Or… No, pin it up that way you do.”
Iona racks her brain, then conjures pins and fixes her hair in place so a few stray pieces frame her face, then changes her dress from white to sky blue.
“Yes, perfect,” Ariadne smiles, then pecks her on the cheek before rushing to the looking glass hung on her wall.
“Should I be nervous?” Iona asks.
“No! Or… Um…” Ariadne deliberates. “Nonna can be quite discerning, but I do not know anyone worthwhile who hasn’t adored you.”
Iona flushes with pleasure and smiles wide. “That is very sweet of you to say.”
“Oh…” Ariadne wipes her hands down her face. “That blasted chemise. We cannot let them see it. Perhaps they won’t…”
Iona worries at her bottom lip. “We shall find some way to hide it. Or if I can see it, I might be able to make it disappear before anyone should notice.”
“Good day,” Marina says as she passes by their open door.
“Good day,” Iona and Ariadne say far too loudly to be casual.
Marina doesn’t seem to notice as she hums to herself and glides away.
We mustn’t look so guilty. Ariadne fusses with her hair and conjures a midnight blue dress, pinning a delphinium into her braided bun.
The longer we wait, the more difficult it will be to- Iona begins, but Ariadne takes her hand and pulls her out the door and down the hall.
They burst into the solarium where they find Moira, Marina, Petro, and two newcomers all sitting by the windows drinking coffee and admiring the sunrise.
They are not far from the pianoforte, but when Iona quickly scans the floor for any sign of the chemise, she cannot see even the slightest hint of the white fabric anywhere.
She gasps when Aster collides into the back of her legs and nearly topples her over in his haste to get around her.
“Aster,” Ariadne chides.
The wolf bounds over to a very old woman with white hair and weathered skin. She waves a leg of mutton in the air in front of her, and there on her forearm is a witch’s mark of a wolf that looks remarkably like Aster. He sits obediently and waits for his treat.
“Good dog.” The old woman rewards him with the treat and scratches behind his ears.
Wisp approaches with her ears slightly pulled back in hesitance until the old woman notices.
“Bellissima.” The old woman smiles, conjuring a leg of rabbit and offering it to the gentle fox.
Wisp takes it within her jowl and skitters away to sit and eat beside Aster.
“Why do you linger there in the threshold?” The old woman eyes them with disapproval.
“Nonna,” Ariadne smiles as she approaches and leans down to embrace her where she sits. “I wasn’t aware you would be visiting-”
“This is my family’s estate. I need not announce my comings and goings to anyone,” Nonna says.
“Of course,” Ariadne clears her throat.
“Have you finally learned to eat?” Nonna asks, looking her up and down.
“Uh…” Ariadne’s smile falls.
“Good,” Nonna says, “I was beginning to worry.”
Iona quickly interjects. “How do you do? My name is-”
“I know who you are,” Nonna says. “I have eyes, girl. You needn’t introduce yourself when Morgan Le Fay’s pendant hangs from your neck.”
“Oh.” Iona looks down at the pendant. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course, I am,” Nonna says brusquely, but there is a twinkle in her umber eyes. “I hear it is you I should thank for the absence of my infernal daughter-in-law.”
Iona lowers her eyes shyly, but her blush doesn’t fully manifest until she hears what the old woman says next.
“Well done, my dear. With spirit like that and a bosom like yours, I shan’t be astounded by my granddaughter’s sudden undying devotion to you.”
“Nonna!” Ariadne protests.
“Mother, please,” Petro sighs.
“Oh hush, I’m only joking,” Nonna grins. “Sit.”
She pats the space beside her on the chaise, and they quickly do as they’re told. Ariadne conjures a cup of clove tea and takes a nervous sip.
Please tell me you see it. Ariadne cuts her an imploring look. I do not know if I’d survive Nonna’s scathing remarks should she discover it before we do.
Neither could I. Iona struggles to keep a straight face. But I cannot see it anywhere.
Where did you throw it? Ariadne’s impatience is palpable.
Against the wall by the pianoforte. Iona cranes her neck to try and get a better look.
The sound of a throat clearing makes her refocus on the group of witches and warlocks who are all staring at her expectantly.
“Pardon?” Iona asks.
“What are you looking at?” Nonna asks.
“Apologies, I… I thought I saw a lark through the window,” Iona says.
“If you are quite done admiring the morning’s splendor,” Nonna says dryly. “Please allow me to introduce my grandson, Francesco Mitriora.”
She gestures to a young man sitting on an adjacent chaise.
“Please, call me Frankie,” he says with an exceedingly kind smile that puts Iona at ease. He has short, dark curls that bounce with his every movement, and the same umber eyes as his grandmother.
“Now tell me, how does this oddity work?” Nonna asks, gesturing to the staff.
As Ariadne explains the staff’s capabilities, it is clear how proud of it she is, and it’s quite endearing. Everyone is so often preoccupied with the pendant, but the staff is just as much of a marvel, especially given how mysteriously it had presented itself.
However, as Ariadne tells the story of how she’d found the staff, and how time had stopped all around her as she’d claimed it, Iona fiddles with her amethyst ring absentmindedly.
She already knows the story well and the mention of Elise always dampens her spirits.
On a sudden impulse, she covertly slides off her ring.
Ariadne’s words morph until her speech turns from English to Italian, and Iona schools her features as she finds herself enraptured.
To hear such a beautiful language spoken by the voice she loves most in the world is a distinct pleasure.
It matters not that she can only decipher a word or two.
Otherwise, mundane expressions sound like poetry to her ears.
It reminds her that she should continue her study of the language when next she has a spare moment, so she might hear Ariadne speak to her this way all the time.
Then Ariadne says something, and looks to her in question, so she quickly slides the ring back on.
“Pardon?” Iona asks.
Ariadne glances down at her hands as she secures her ring back into place, a small smile reaching her lips. “Did you see another bird, nymph?”
Iona smiles shyly at the tease and the endearment. “I was merely swept away by your talent at storytelling.”
“Ah,” Ariadne says, mirroring her smile. “I asked if Merlin alluded to the location of the staff when you spoke with him on his island.”
“No. He only explained how a blood bond could counteract Elise’s blood magic,” Iona says.
Nonna spits on the floor in disgust and Petro grimaces.
“It was Merlin’s suggestion to bond with one another?” Moira asks.
“Yes, though Samuel later told me he suspected it was the only option, but did not wish to encourage it,” Iona says.
“I can understand his hesitance,” Petro says. “To bond so quickly...”
“We needn’t discuss this again,” Ariadne says sharply.
Petro nods in reluctant acquiescence and does not continue. There is a brief moment of awkward silence.
Then Frankie sets his coffee down. “Ariadne, I have a sudden desire for music. Would you be so kind?”
Her eyebrows raise slightly at the request, but she sets her tea down on a nearby table and stands. “Certainly.”
As Ariadne makes her way to the pianoforte, Iona’s anxiety subsides. Perhaps she can find the chemise and discard of it so they might continue their breakfast in peace.
“Iona.” Frankie stands and offers his hand to her.
Surprised, Iona takes it, and he guides her toward the pianoforte. Ariadne begins playing a lively sonata and glances at them briefly before looking back down at her hands.