Unaskable Questions
I stare between my room and the stairwell.
The day’s not half over, and Mistress Vincenza’s locked into her room. The woman I seek for answers is the very one I can’t ask this to.
I open my hands and shut them. Is it real? Can I access the Ring? What would it feel like?
I hide into my bathroom, unwinding Hanna’s hasty bandaging and cleaning off residual salve. My veins have darkened, the skin having gone scaly. I was gonna ask Mistress Vincenza to take me to a doctor of necromancy to heal it, before I broke down crying.
And she comforted me.
No hesitation. I cried; she took me close and gave me solace. First with a meal, then a hug.
My chest flutters with something warm—just like when I held her hand. There’s a potential in that feeling, one she asked me to pull out for summoning the specter.
As I run out into the parlour, Piero sighs, “finally. Can I go now?”
“No time!”
“What?”
I search for the non-book shelf and pull out the case of ‘YOUTH NECROMANCER TRAINING FLASHCARDS.’ There’s a small tinge of disgust at how a youth would have access to necromancy—short of becoming the second ever lich and skipping patronization—but I move on.
“Wait. My boyfriend’s taking me on a date. I can’t stay here! Catarina!”
Back in my bathroom, I frantically search the cards.
Heal wounds? No. That’s… not even necromancy. Why is that… Oh, it’s a ritual that heals wounds by suturing animal skin to the lesion. Useful, but not for disease.
Create plague? Maybe later.
Yes! Cure grave bite. Good.
I flip over the card to the chant and ritual section. The ritual requires fresh hide of bunny and the chanting of ‘devlir lakdet lakdediv ve. Tirit lavdexi.’
“Wait! Stop! You’re not leaving this time.” Piero steps on my trailing skirt as I try to run through the front door to get to the markets. “Where’s my sister?”
“In her room. I think you should talk to her. But I have to go—heal this.” I display the back of my hand.
“Shit, Catarina. That’s fine—go heal yourself.” He steps off of my dress. “Is she upset? I thought you were.”
I smack my lips together, thinking for something to say that won’t get him as upset as she currently is. “...We were talking about Nascia.”
“Oh.” He grabs his shoulder. “Yeah, that makes sense. I’m glad she felt comfortable telling you. It’s hard on her when she keeps it to herself.”
I readjust my gaze downwards.
“I miss her a lot, but not half as much as Vincenza does. I’ll go talk to her.” He pulls out a set of keys and walks to the back door.
“Is—is that a key for her room? It’s a different shape than the other doors.”
“No, her office. But I have her room too… She gave it to me the night before she recruited you.”
The night before? Was she worried about something?
Well, necromancer. Of course she’s worried about death. But why? Apprentices seeking her education wouldn’t be threatening, even if they did already have access to the Ring.
“I’ll call my boyfriend to let him know the date’s delayed. You stay safe.” He looks around the parlour. “Flip the sign to ‘CLOSED’ and lock the door.”
“Yes, Mistre—Mister? Master?”
He laughs, but his eyes aren’t in it. “It must make her days easier on the soul to have you in them.”
Easier on the soul.
I throw the words inside my mouth as I place an order at the exotic pets store. There’s a taste to them, an echo that resonates perfectly inside my head.
I keep letting the word repeat and repeat as I drift back to my room, parchment wrapped cure in hand.
The fit of my hand into it is uncomfortable, but it’s as the spell requires.
Easier on the soul.
Nothing I’m doing here should be easy, reasonable. It should be difficult. But in some part of my mind, it feels like I’m doing something that will make Mistress Vincenza proud.
She’ll hear me recount this and smile. And even if she can’t bring herself to, she’ll let me know that I deserve it.
I want her to praise me with a hug.
“Devlir lakdet lakdediv ve. Tirit lavdexi.”
I want to kiss her.
Light erupts in my chest and spills out from my lungs.
The air feels beautiful to taste. The Great Ring feels close.
I’m surrounded in a pressure just like Mistress Vincenza’s hug, making me giddy as harps sound in the circle of her touch around me, like someone’s plucking the orbital lines of the Ring.
I want her to hold me. Caress my hair. Fix my dress. Hold my face. And lean in for a kiss.
My own thoughts. My own—No. No.
Dammit.
No.
I pull out my hand, frantically washing it under water to find it healed. The music notes all turn sour, and I drop to the floor, body shivering.
That’s how I managed to steal her patronization. That’s why I couldn’t get myself to even kiss Hanna or Lucia.
I want her. I’m… I’m crushing on her, hard.
And she knew that. She hates me for it.
I’m barely an adult by two years, and she’s older than the Immortal Queens. She has all her beautiful life and personality, and I’m the scandal who needs her help to keep my ponytail in order.
She wouldn’t entertain my affections if it was possible.
I’m just Catarina, the woman who hangs onto the smallest parcel of arcane power only by the grace of her generosity.
I’m not lovable.