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The blue shirt she’s wearing today has no sleeves, and her well-defined arms are on display. I picture those arms wrapped around me last night, carrying me to her room. There is so much strength in that woman.
Her legs are stretched before her, bare except for a small pair of shorts made from breezy linen. Her feet are naked, and a pair of white sneakers are cast off to the side. What would she be like if she had spent her childhood here, in Ytopie, without the pressures of the Race weighing her down daily?
I hope when the Gods return, all of Krillium can be like Ytopie. Maybe that will be the first step to healing the trauma people like Viola have experienced their entire lives.
She looks up and catches my eye as I approach her. A smile laced with trepidation crosses her face. She may never fully trust me, but we are closer than we were the night of the gala. The thought of never having her whole heart fills me with a sadness I cannot define.
But I will be happy with whatever she can give me.
Silently, she pats the grass beside her. I lower myself to the ground, maneuvering my long legs into a comfortable position with my knees bent. I don’t think I’ve sat on the grass since childhood.
I break the silence. “I saw Plume and got healed up. Thank you for your assistance last night.”
“Oh, did you? I couldn’t tell a difference.” She fights a smile at her own joke but loses that battle, and a laugh escapes her lips.
Throughout the Race, she didn’t laugh much, but when she did, it drew my attention. It was a bark of a laugh, with no regard for being perceived as dainty or small. She laughed with no fear, as if everyone should feel lucky to listen to her.
I certainly did.
I close my eyes to the sunlight, tilting my face to the sky and letting her laugh wrap around me. Since Viola came to Ytopie, I have finally felt I can slow down. Every moment used to be scheduled and crammed, but lately, I find myself wanting to just be. A movement across my finger startles my eyes open, and I look down to find that she has rested her pinky over my own.
She’s still deeply engrossed with her book, but that small amount of contact and what it could mean makes my heart soar. Fear of losing it causes me not to acknowledge it. “Is that Damaris Forekeeper’s journal?” I ask.
“Yeah, it is truly fascinating. But I still can’t find anything out anything about this.” She holds up her right arm to show the shadow-snake tightly coiled in its usual place. “I don’t think I can make him go away even if I try. And I know this sounds crazy, but I feel like he’s becoming progressively more aware.”
I wrack my brain for any information of magic acting like this. “I can’t think of anything I’ve heard like it, honestly. It’s almost like the shadow has become a true, living familiar of sorts.” She turns her arm over, looking at it from all angles. “I have an idea,” I say, turning to look at her head on. “Can you will him into a solid state? Right now, he’s shadow and air, right?”
“I can’t pet him or anything if that’s what you mean. And I feel him there, but it’s like I would feel the wind whipping around me, if that makes sense.”
My excitement bubbles up, my head nodding quickly at her words. “Absolutely, that makes sense. Okay, see if you can will him into being a three-dimensional form.” Her brow furrows, her nose wrinkles, and the overwhelming need to kiss her rises in my chest. I push it down, not wanting to ruin the tentative peace we have found in one another. I watch her eyes slowly close, then focus my attention on her arm.
Before my eyes, the shadow-snake thickens, its soft edges firming into iridescent black overlapping scales. I watch its face take shape, and suddenly, I’m staring into bright yellow eyes.
Viola opens her eyes, looks down, and yelps loudly. “It’s a fucking snake!” She shakes her arm, but the snake holds firm, flicking its tongue at her.
My laugh fills the courtyard as she jumps to her feet, trying her hardest to dislodge the snake. “This not funny, Mace! I’ve got a fucking snake on my arm!”
“You put the snake on your arm!” I call over her sounds of fear.
Her screams of fear weave with my laughter, and we draw the attention of others in the courtyard, and for once, I do not care what anyone thinks. When I am with her, I do not feel like Mace, the head of the Patricians. I feel like a long-gone version of myself before the death of my parents, and the weight of responsibility crushed me. I rise to my feet and run to her, wrapping an arm around her waist to still her movements.
The snake eventually unwinds from her arm and moves to the ground, where it sits up and looks at her.
It is unlike any snake I’ve seen before, the glistening iridescent scales creating an intricate pattern all down its body. Its body is easily four feet long, the end of its tail a smooth point. It watches Viola with curiosity as she calms herself and eventually lowers to the ground in front of it.
“Shadow?” she asks, so quiet I can barely hear her. The snake flicks its blue tongue and slides closer to her, touching the back of her hand with its head.
“It seems you have just created a familiar, Miss Mistflow.” She shoots me a death glare at the honorific. At this point, I’m doing it just to get a reaction out of her.
“What does that even mean?” she asks, holding her arm out tentatively. The snake coils itself back into its regular place. If snakes could purr, I bet it would. She straightens to a stand and turns to me, and I hope she can see the pride I have for her at her success.
“A familiar is a spirit that is there to protect, assist, and obey you. I have never heard of someone creating a familiar with their own magic. They’re exceedingly rare as is. I’ve never heard of anyone outside the Spring Seasonale having them.”
Over and over, Viola is proving herself to be so much more than I have given her credit for. When she arrived, my only concern was gaining her trust before using her as the vessel. Now, her power seems to be so much more.
We sprawl out together on the grass again, Viola blissfully happy with the reveal of her new familiar.
“Viola, I think…”
