24 - Iona #3
“I should have gone with your mother and father. I was too… selfish. Foolish. It was my choice to stay behind, and now…” Her face creases with shame.
“They offered to take us with them, and we should have gone, should have put an ocean between us and them, your grandparents. Then Elise may have been like you, not driven to such destruction for the sake of… vainglorious greed.”
Violet angrily wipes away her tears before they fall, then reaches out to cup Ariadne’s cheek. “Keep hold of your joy. It is so fleeting… in this cruel world.”
The moment Violet steps out of the room, she unleashes her sobs and runs up the stairs, slamming a door behind her.
“I…” Samuel shakes his head, unsure of what to say.
Ariadne leaves the room, walking right out the door and into the street. Iona takes a step.
Don’t, Ariadne begs. Please, I… I need a moment.
“Should we go after her?” Samuel asks.
Iona sighs heavily, then shakes her head. “No.”
He gives a short nod, then clears his throat, searching for something to say.
“I heard your solstice ritual went exceptionally well,” Samuel says.
Iona forces a small smile. “Yes, it did.”
“I regret my absence but… I could not leave her here. Not like this,” he says. “My sabbatical this semester may extend for the entire year at this rate. I haven’t yet decided.”
He takes heavy steps to the chaise and slumps down, putting his head in his hands. Iona sits beside him and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“You needn’t worry about me,” Iona says. “I only wish there was something more I could do.”
He pats her hand. “I’ve also heard Xiomara has taken you under her wing. I’m glad for it… That you were not left alone.”
“She’s become an unexpected ally,” she says. “I find most Zerynthos witches to be misunderstood, flawed creatures, not the awful bedlams they are often made out to be.”
“Most?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Moira and Cintia live up to their hostile reputations… And Sebastian has grown to hate me,” she says. “Though perhaps I deserve it.”
“Whatever could you have done to deserve that?” he asks.
“I…” Iona averts her eyes. “I made a mistake.”
He regards her with concern. “What sort of mistake?”
“Nothing dire,” she says, and though it pains her to lie, she feels it would be selfish to burden him with her troubles, even if she could be truthful, “We merely had… differing priorities and it led to a clash. It is nothing to worry about.”
“I see,” Samuel says. “I trust Xiomara will pacify him. I’ve always found her to be a decent, even-tempered woman. I am glad it’s her who shall preside over Elise’s trial.”
Iona hesitates, then asks, “Where is Elise now?”
“The other council members have her,” Samuel says. “They will not tell me where and a part of me is glad for it.”
She wonders if Elise has been trapped in an illusion all this time, or if she’s imprisoned somewhere deep in the earth, or locked up high in a tower. “Why are the proceedings so delayed?”
Samuel conjures a flask and pours a drop of whiskey into his tea.
“Most maleficians are killed for their crimes, often by witches avenging their fallen loved ones, or by those deft enough to discover their identity and ambush them. In this case, the malefician is still alive, but powerless. She is a witch no longer, which is an entirely unprecedented turn of events. It will be the trial of the century.”
Iona frowns. Surely Elise’s crimes cannot go unpunished, but if she has no magic, there would be no use in taking her wand or restricting her power. To some she is considered a human now, entirely irrelevant.
“I imagine it’s proved difficult to determine how to progress with all these malefician attacks ravaging the world…” Samuel muses. “It is not normal, this resurgence of darkness. Not since-”
“Before Katrin?” Iona asks.
Samuel glances at her, then nods, “Yes.”
Iona gazes at her pendant, holding the opal gingerly in the palm of her hand.
“My only consolation is knowing how you thrive. Your benefaction of magic has caused quite a stir. Some are wondering if, due to your intervention, the disparity of power will not be so vastly divided as it has been.” Samuel admires the opal with reverence.
“Your father would be exceedingly proud of who you’ve become. ”
Something breaks inside of her, but she hasn’t been able to cry since yesterday. Even when she thinks she might, no tears form. It seems she’s finally run out. She swallows hard and schools her features.
“If there comes a time when you can spare an evening, might you attend one of my rituals?” Iona asks. “It would be a great comfort to me if you were there, but only if you are able-”
“Of course,” Samuel promises. “Perhaps for Yule. I shall speak with Violet. If Ariadne would be so kind as to send a portal-”
The front door closes, and Ariadne reenters the sitting room with Aster. “I can send a portal.”
“I would be most grateful,” Samuel says. “Now if you would excuse me, I must see to my wife a moment.”
“Of course.” Ariadne’s smile is tight, the tip of her nose slightly reddened.
Samuel leaves, and Iona slumps back in her chair. When she beckons Aster over to her, he jumps up on the chaise and rests his head in her lap. Wisp sniffs at him, then goes back to sleep.
Are you well? Iona asks. You weren’t gone long.
I was gone for nearly an hour, Ariadne says, lifting her staff.
An hour? Iona gasps.
I’m getting the knack of it, I think. The magic is a bit temperamental.
She admires the labradorite stone. I tried to stop time again once it had started, but the staff wouldn’t allow me.
It seems to only work once or twice a day, but perhaps I only need practice for it to work at will, like with the portals.
Iona becomes lost in the memory of their Yule holiday, and her wish that they could stay there forever and leave everything behind. Her heart aches for that time, when all was peaceful for just a moment. If only they’d had the staff with them then.
“I miss that time, too,” Ariadne says softly.
Gently, Iona moves Aster’s head from her lap and runs into Ariadne’s arms, burrowing into her neck and breathing in her scent.
“I never planted the gardenia you gifted me on Yule,” Iona realizes.
“Oh….” Ariadne says. “I suppose there’s been nowhere to plant it, but someday... One day, I will grow you a luscious garden as far as the eye can see. You can plant it there, for you cannot relocate it once it’s taken root, and its flowers will never wilt.”
“Ever?” Iona pulls away just enough to look up into her red eyes.
When Ariadne nods solemnly, Iona is reminded of Moira comment made the previous night that had resonated deeply with her.
She has no home. Neither of them does. They’ve been nomads for months now, with no end to their peripatetic lifestyle in sight.
She cannot imagine settling anywhere when so much is still uncertain.