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 thecircle 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 wanther. 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.
Chapter 19
Easier on the Soul
I wake up no longer depressive, just… depressed. The normal, boring human way.
I can’t even tell what the point is as I powder and dash my skin into a ghastly white, polish my nails to black. Some part of me wants the stability. Wants her to lightly praise me like I’m not ruined in her eyes.
Wants her to hold me.
She won’t, ever. Not again.
Maybe that radio will sooth my feelings. Perhaps some fluffy romance opera to lift me up? I’m not much in the mood for reading, at least. But I will if I have no other place to drown myself.
Instead of an empty parlour, Piero’s on the circulation desk,sleeping. A man I do not recognize, a bit short with dark robes, rubs his back.
“What happened here?” I ask.
“Hm. Oh, it’s you. You’re Vincenza’s servant?”
