20. Romeo
Romeo
“Ihope you don’t mind,” Aria said, stopping in front of an unmarked door at the top of a coiling staircase.
Her tone was casual, but the unhinged glint in her eye betrayed her anticipation.
Flora was out of breath after nearly running across the castle grounds, but Aria’s energy had only snowballed.
“I have him waiting for you in my lab.” Aria twisted the handle, and the door creaked open.
Flora hesitated before following, with an uncertainty that she couldn’t quite place. The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the pale glow of alchemical lamps. As her eyes adjusted, the sight before her stopped her cold.
The vibrant accents of bronze had dulled to a dreary silver.
The vivid emerald green had faded to a pale emptiness.
Before her, in a blackened metal cage, a scythe laid coiled around itself, its white eyes blinking slowly, awoken by the sound of their entry. Flora’s breath caught in her throat, dread coursing through her.
“Isn’t he handsome?” Aria said with an unsettling adoration, tilting her head as though it were a masterpiece.
“Noec... ?” Flora trembled, her tongue barely able to speak his name. The creature huffed, lowering its head once again.
“Pixie?” A voice came from around the corner, gentle and familiar. “Flora, is that you?” Flora’s heart fluttered in her chest. His vivid green and gold eyes widened with joy as he rounded the corner and stepped into view. Before he could say another word, she tackled him with a tight hug.
“Oh!” he said, startled. “Hey, I’m so glad you made it safely.” He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and looking down. “Hey, are you okay?”
Flora smiled up at him with a subtle wetness in her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m great,” she said.
“Awh, how lovely,” Aria cooed, clasping her hands together with exaggerated affection. Then, her tone shifted, giddy with pride. “Now,” she said with a mischievous cackle, “I’m absolutely delighted to hear the blood medicine worked.”
Flora stiffened, her gaze darting to the scythe in the cage. Her voice wavered as she asked, “Isn’t that how... How did you get him?” She pointed hesitantly toward the coiled creature as its ears twitched, dread creeping into her tone.
“Oh, Romeo?” Aria said, gesturing dramatically toward the cage as if she had been waiting for someone to ask.
“Romeo was captured by some of the King’s Hunters.
” Her chest swelled with pride as she patted the side of the cage and continued, “This sweet boy here is the original donor of the blood used to make my injections!”
Flora’s eyes widened. The creature was riddled with scars.
“Are you... Florabelle?” the creature said suddenly, in a low, venomous rumble. It tilted its head curiously, its pale eyes seeming to brighten with a dim light.
Aria gasped with delight, clapping her hands together. “Romeo! My goodness, he must like you. Not much of a talker, this one. It usually takes much more than that,” she said gleefully, her energy entirely unfazed.
“Are you the Sleepwalker?” the creature repeated, its voice like a volatile warning cutting through the room.
“Have some manners, Romeo,” Aria scolded, clicking her tongue with one hand on her hip.
Flora tilted her head back at the creature, her curiosity momentarily getting the best of her. “Yes, that would be m?—”
“Ah-ah-ah,” Aria interrupted sharply, smothering her hand over Flora’s mouth with a startling swiftness. Her playful grin didn’t quite mask the steel in her eyes. “We don’t speak so freely around here, dear."
The creature lowered its head, its lips trembling into a slight, shaky grin as if stifling a giggle. It filled its lungs with a deliberate breath, then released a deep, guttural yell:
“ASILIA. ASILI?—”
A sharp yelp cut the cry short as Aria drove a many-pronged spear into its side.
The scythe wailed and writhed violently, until she twisted the spear and drove it deeper.
With one last trailing cry, the creature slumped lifelessly to the floor, and it was as if the white light behind its eyes flickered out.
“Aw, pity. Romeo, you were such a good boy,” Aria said, shaking her head with a sigh of disappointment.
She glanced at the still body as if mourning a spilled drink.
“Oh, but not to fret, he did have plenty of useful information. I have some theories to refine, perhaps. We’ll never forget your contribution, Romeo. ”
Flora gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
“It was trying to start an echo,” Noec explained, his voice steady despite the disgust etched across his face. He turned to Flora, noting the sheer horror in her expression.
This Aria woman was a different breed from Sona—capturing and interrogating scythes as if they were enemies at war. With a sing-song voice and a too-wide smile, the cleric of Marketh Castle was a ladybug with a scorpion’s touch.
“Which was quite silly of him,” Aria chimed, dabbing at the blood on the spear’s prongs with a tissue. “Given that the enemy already knows where you are.”
Flora’s head snapped toward her, alarm igniting in her eyes. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “How?”
Aria shrugged. “Because you answered Romeo’s question, and now his keeper knows.” She sighed, carefully laying the spear on her workbench. Her bubbling tone shifted, her voice dropping into something colder, sharper, as she turned to face them.
“Their white eyes are merely a lens through which their leader observes the world, though they themselves cannot see,” she explained.
“Think of it as a hive mind, with the power of the Moon’s Shadow as its core.
” A wide, nostalgic grin spread across her face as she added, “You can thank Sona for that theory—confirmed by our late Romeo.” She nodded lovingly at the limp creature behind bars.
Her grin faltered slightly with a tinge of nervousness. “Now, we may have just a teensy problem.” Aria pivoted and began leading them briskly toward the staircase. The sharp tap of her boots echoed louder with each hurried step as they rushed to follow.
“Noec, you said Florabelle was being hunted?” she asked without looking back as she descended the stairs. “And that they started an echo in her name?”
“Yes,” Noec replied steadily, though there was tension in his jaw. “And they’ve sent more than one scythe to the village searching for her.”
Aria quickened her pace. “Then, darling,” she called over her shoulder, “we’d best hope my defenses hold. Because if the Shadowkeeper finally knows where she is, he won’t be wasting time.”
“Wait, Aria..." Flora called after her, a tremor of urgency in her voice. “What about Noec? Is it possible that he might become one of them?”
Aria paused abruptly, with Noec nearly running into her.
“No.” She turned to them with a look of dissatisfaction.
“The scythe Noec saw by the spring was not Perri, but a true scythe in disguise,” she said.
Flora and Noec exchanged a relieved glance.
“I would consider Noec safe for the time being,” she added.
Aria chuckled to herself. “Though a human-scythe hybrid was an outcome beyond even my wildest imagination,” she stated, studying Noec’s flickering eyes as though he were an exhibit.
“My medicine was meant to be just that—medicine, and nothing more. I never intended to disrupt the laws of nature.” She sighed, with almost a flash of guilt on her face as she assessed him.
“But, WOW!” she beamed, her thoughts overwhelmed by an inquisitive exhilaration. “The applications are endless!”
Not long after, a meeting was convened with a handful of generals and heads of state.
Upon invitation, Flora and Noec entered the chamber together, with Davy trailing cautiously behind.
Outside the tall windows, the hum of the city seemed subdued, as though Asilia itself held its breath on this cloudy afternoon.
The room was imposing—its high walls adorned with gold accents and the seal of Asilia, while the massive oval table of polished black wood seemed to stretch endlessly.
Seats were quickly filled with murmuring figures in gaudy clothes, each carrying a palpable sense of unease.
Rumors had already begun to circulate, it seemed.
Toward the farthest end of the table sat Heron, who watched Noec take his seat, a rush of relief softening his face as he did.
He met Flora’s gaze and offered a nod, breathing for what must have felt like the first time since last night.
Opposite of Heron was a woman whose cat-like intensity was challenged only by that of her daughter, Aonia.
Queen Levora tapped her ruby fingertips to the table, her stone cold eyes deep in silent calculation.
Flora had met her once before, at Aonia’s coming-of-age ceremony.
The queen didn’t need to speak to silence a crowd, and she needed no more than a sharp glance to make your blood run cold.
Levora was frigid, brilliant, and decisive—but above all else, she was terrifying.
Then came the sound of heavy footsteps, echoing from the hallway. All rose to their feet, and a hush fell over the room. An aide rushed to open the door with a stumbling bow.
The shadow that darkened the doorway was that of a burly man.
His disposition was famously unshakable—he walked with a jolly charisma unlike anyone Flora had ever known.
He carried himself with utmost confidence and, despite the absence of a crown on his shiny bald head, anyone would know that it was him: King Velo Marketh.
He entered the room, strolling with bravado to the empty chair. He found his place at his wife’s side, taking his seat and, with a sweep of his gaze, he motioned for the others to follow suit.