Chapter 37 River
River
A shiny silver obelisk glistened against the cloudless afternoon sky. It stretched over one hundred irons high, with a dozen
smaller obelisks in a semicircle around it, framing the glittering entrance to the Lightwing, Vermillion Vale’s premier performance
inn.
“And these”—the docent waved a hand toward the obelisks—“these are meant to replicate the great Pillars of Askavere.”
“From Old Mythria?” River asked. She didn’t know much about her homeland’s earliest history, but she was pretty sure that
the real Pillars of Askavere were much less . . . glossy.
“Precisely,” said the docent. His lip quivered as he pushed his spectacles higher up the bridge of his nose.
Since returning to Mythria with great fanfare—yet another Mythrian winner of a Vestriyan talent show—River had been on a celebratory
tour across her homeland, and this docent had been asked to provide River with a personalized walkthrough of Mythria’s prolific
Vale, explaining the meaning behind all the historical replicas that had been built throughout the nightlife-loving city.
Their time together was almost up, and the docent still had not made peace with the fact that River was an actual assassin.
“A retired assassin,” she’d reminded him the first three times he’d flinched at her every movement.
“It seems some creative liberties have been taken here in the Vale,” Celine murmured. She scribbled something in her notebook while the docent gave a long-winded speech on how hand magicians had spent years recreating the pillars to painstaking effect.
Celine nudged River’s shoulder, pointing to where she’d drawn a few of the obelisks in a way that looked rather phallic, with
the words Shiny and foreboding. What are they overcompensating for? written underneath.
River burst out laughing.
“That’s enough outside,” the docent said, eyes darting around nervously. “Let’s continue on, then, shall we? Right this way.”
Inside the glinting silver walls of the Lightwing, River was greeted by the sight of her own face.
COMING SOON!
FEARLESS FLYER AND THE BANDITS:
A KILLER ACROBATIC ACT
The gigantic hand-painted poster depicted River in her white bodysuit with a smatter of blood across her chest as she swung
from silks, high above a group of indistinguishable fellow performers.
This was her prize for winning Vestriya Now—a touring show throughout Vestriya, and then a residency at the Lightwing in Mythria,
where she’d perform her acrobatic act for the remainder of the year. It was also where she’d rehearse.
Celine squeezed her hand. “Look at you,” she said in wonder, gazing at the poster.
But River was already looking at Celine. It didn’t matter what sights she’d yet to see, or any of the places she could travel
to with her magic. This was the best view in all the realms. Her curly-haired scribe, brave and determined and deliciously beautiful.
“Come on, then,” said the docent. “This way.”
He led them through rows of gambling tables until they reached doors labeled main stage. Portraits of the Brethren, last year’s Vestriya Now winners, still hung in frames outside the entrance.
“Your posters will be going up soon,” the docent told her. “The singing brothers haven’t finished their residency yet.”
“Makes sense,” said River. “Let those boys sing until the Ghosts carry us to the gates. Their voices are the real magic in
this realm.”
“Okay,” said the docent.
River knew some people would only ever see her as deadly. That was no bother. What was stranger was the way some others celebrated
her for what she’d done. Her Vestriya Now win would always be tied to the death of Tabitha and the downfall of the Deathrose
Guild. As would all her life. She could never erase her past, and for all its faults and complexities, she didn’t want to.
Still, she’d worried that the Vestriya Now creators would revoke her title over it.
But the creators had thought the assassin aspect was brilliant. Who wouldn’t want to see a deadly acrobat perform? they’d mused. The blood on your costume? Electric!
As River sat in long, exhausting meetings during which they’d discussed what the precise nature of her show should be, chiseling
out the most appealing angle—Vestriya Now was very committed to finding the right performance package—inspiration struck.
River knew how to make her show stand out. It was yet another puzzle she could solve before anyone else could make sense of
the pieces.
The docent opened the stage door. The theater was not as ornate as the Vestriyan one had been. It was very “of the Vale,”
as Mythrians were fond of saying, because it was sleek and dark and completely void of all sense of time and place. This was
a place to get lost inside, enjoying drink and entertainment without another care in the realm.
The theater was not empty, as River had expected. Instead, scattered throughout the orchestra seats were former Deathrose Guild members.
“Well, then, that concludes my time with you. I’ll leave you to it,” said the docent, skittering out.
“You’re all here early,” River said, stunned.
This was her troupe. Her bandits. Assassins, really, but the Vestriya Now creators found that word too off-putting. Not the
blood, though. They were funny like that. They didn’t want guests to believe they might be killed while watching River’s show,
but they wanted to maintain a sense of danger. They loved the idea of River gathering up a group of former assassins and turning
them into acrobats alongside her.
River sought out the guild members who’d believed in the original honor code, the ones who stood for the true principles of
the guild. At first, most were reluctant to sign on to this endeavor. It wasn’t every day someone asked a layperson to join
a traveling circus of sorts. But River sold them on the promise of a new life, and the guarantee that their unique skills
would be put to good use. Even though the former Deathrose Guild members had never been considered outlaws, they were all
willing to roll with their new title of bandits.
With their inclusion in this show, they were getting the same second chance River had gotten. The second chance they all deserved.
After River had spent sufficient time catching up with her troupe, Celine tugged on her blouse. “I have something for you,”
she said, handing River a letter.
River recognized the quillmanship right away. Long, dramatic cursive, with an abundance of swirling flourishes.
Vandra.
River had mailed Vandra a letter on her last day in Vestriya, finally apologizing for failing to understand why Vandra had left the guild, and for not showing up for her in the aftermath.
She hadn’t been a good friend, and she knew it.
Because they were friends. River had been wrong to dismiss that, too.
The Vestriyans were very fond of sending one another mail. River had come to appreciate that about their culture. It took
patience and time to sit down and scribe a letter—two things River never had enough of, but she’d wanted to try it all the
same. She felt Vandra deserved that much.
“It came in just before we left for the Vale, but I wanted to wait until we got here to give it to you,” Celine explained.
River had provided Celine’s address for return, partly because she didn’t have one of her own, but mostly because she thought
Vandra might not reply at all, and River couldn’t miss a letter she wasn’t checking for.
Riv,
I want to say I never thought I’d get a letter from the likes of someone such as you, but that would be a disservice to the
generosity you have shown by writing me, and a discredit to all the work you’ve done to get here.
I accept your apology, and in turn, I want to offer you one of my own.
I am sorry for not helping you sooner. This excludes my dashing, daring rescue of you, of course, because I was paid well,
and I looked fantastic doing it. But when you came to me the night you’d been given the assignment to kill Galwell, I turned
you away. I was too stubborn, still set in my beliefs. I wanted you to learn the lesson for yourself.
I see now that you have. And I am very proud of you for that, but also, I should have known better. I was judging you for your circumstances, and you didn’t deserve that. No one does.
You said in your letter that you miss me. I miss you right back. And I would very much like to reconnect.
But no, I will not join your traveling show.
At least not permanently . . .
I’d like to book myself for one night in Vermillion Vale, near the end of your residency. It must be a big, splashy affair.
Tell the pubtenders to concoct special drinks in my honor. I want a portrait of me the size of one of those obelisks.
Vandra Ravenfall, featuring Fearless Flyer and the Bandits. Sounds nice, no?
It won’t be like old times, but neither of us wants that.
It will be like new times. Something yet to be defined. I think we’re both eager to discover what exactly that is.
Your friend,
Vandra
P.S. Tell your lover that if she’s going to interview me for her book, I want at least one full chapter dedicated to me. Maybe
even two.
“What a lovely note,” Celine said. “Sorry, I read it over your shoulder.”
River’s chest flooded with the kind of warm, gooey hope she used to mock in others. She understood now how precious love was,
how fragile and rare. And how you could feel it in so many different forms. She had so much of it now, it overflowed. For
Celine. But also for Vandra. Her friend.
Celine had that look in her eye River recognized—the scribely determination one.
“If Vandra’s agreeing to two chapters in my book about the rise and fall of the Deathrose Guild, does that mean I can get you to commit to an official interview with me, too?
” she asked, tilting her chin down to bat her long lashes.
“Come here.” River grabbed Celine’s hand and ran, dashing down the center aisle, then leaping up onto the stage so they could
gaze out into the audience together.
“One day soon, you’ll be the main attraction here,” Celine said.
River almost said something cheesy about Celine being the real main attraction anywhere, but one of the guild members interrupted
before she could, shouting out, “When do I learn how to do a back flip?”
This got the whole group laughing.
“Soon, Frank. Very soon,” River said. “I have something else I have to do first.”
She turned her focus to Celine, clasping her hands and squeezing tight. “When we saw each other again, it felt like no time
had passed between us. And a lot of that was because you remembered the good in me. Good I hadn’t had anyone recognize in
a very long time. Maybe ever.”
“What are you doing?” Celine interrupted, her eyes already wet with tears.
“Shh,” River said. “Let me continue, love. I’ve spent a long time practicing this.”
Celine nodded.
“You remembered my true passion for performance, and all you wanted was to see me realize it. It was so generous, and so very
like you, always pushing everyone around you to be the best version of themselves that they can be. Now I have my very own
show, the kind of show only I can do. The show of my dreams. Because of you.”
“You did this,” Celine protested.
“Love,” River said in a hushed tone. “Please.” She took a deep breath, trying to remember where she’d left off. “The stage is my
happy place, but it isn’t my home. I’ve never had one. Until you. You’re my home, Celine Hazelton. And I wanted to know if
you would come with me and the bandits on our Vestriyan tour, so I can have that home with me wherever I go? The quill just
isn’t enough. I need the real thing.”
Celine said nothing, staring at River with a perplexed expression that made River’s blood run cold, afraid that somehow, some
way, she’d misunderstood what was between them.
River rushed to explain. “I thought you could use the tour to interview the other guild members for your book. I figured it
was perfect. And since you’re done at the Mythria Spectator, too, you’ll have the time. But if you’d rather stay in Mythria, I understand.”
She was failing in front of her troupe. Maybe that was good. They needed to see it was okay to fall on your face. They’d all
be doing quite a lot of that as they learned their routine.
“Well?” River finally prompted. “Don’t leave me hanging. Even an acrobat can’t do that forever.”
“Yes. Yes, of course I will come with you,” Celine said softly. She let her answer linger before she added, “On one condition.”
“Anything,” River said, not quite ready to let out a breath of relief or embrace the excitement she wanted to feel about this.
“You let me interview you about your time in the guild,” Celine said, her grin made of pure satisfaction.
River couldn’t help but smile in return. Yes, this was her Celine, all right. The woman she loved with all her heart, and
if she had one, her soul, too.
“You drive a hard bargain. But fine,” River agreed with a playful nudge. “We will discuss the specifics of that later. For now, I should probably make the most of my troupe being here early and start teaching them the ropes.” She moved to step off the stage, but Celine seized her wrist.
“Not so fast,” Celine said. “I’d like to ask my first question.”
“Love, I just told you, we have to negotiate some of my terms. There are things I don’t want to discuss, no matter what, and
I know if—”
“Will you marry me?” Celine blurted, dropping to one knee.
River lost her train of thought. Her sense of place. Her composure.
She lowered herself to the ground with Celine, staring blankly into the limitless pool of Celine’s brown eyes.
“I thought that’s what you were going to ask me, and I was so upset,” Celine continued. “I wanted to be the one to ask it
first. You know how much I love the hard-hitting questions.”
Even through the fog of shock, River did not struggle to answer. It was as easy as breathing.
“Yes,” she said. “Of course I will marry you.”
The bandits erupted in whistles and applause.
“Let’s do it right now,” River yelled over the noise. “Here in the Vale!”
This got Celine to crack, her face awash with the same shock that had just taken hold of River. River suspected the two of
them would never stop surprising each other. It wasn’t possible.
“No,” Celine said evenly, kissing River as she spoke. “We need to negotiate our terms first.”
River laughed against Celine’s soft mouth. “Fine, but soon,” she said.
“Very soon,” Celine promised.
Oh how River loved her soon-to-be wife.
With Celine, life was always interesting.
With Celine, River was never alone.