Chapter Text
Rosie startled awake as a flock of birds took off from the window ledge. She sat up, rubbing the remainder of foggy dreams from her eyes. She had been slumped over a desk in the Palace library, books and papers scattered all around her. Pippin sleepily opened one of his eyes, watching her from where he’d curled up inside one of the desk’s many cubbies.
‘Oh, that’s right,’ she thought. ‘Portia said I’d have the day to myself. Something about the Countess’ headaches…’
She ran a hand through her hair, staring at the desks' contents scattered around her. With the day promised free of the Countess’ prying eyes, she had begun to dig through it further, having hoped to find anything, anything she could use. But despite her efforts and the sizable mess that had built up around her, she had found nothing. Nothing to prove Julian was innocent or if he had actually killed the Count three years prior. Nothing she could use to protect him.
“Oh, come on, I really need to get in there!”
Rosie’s head snapped up as she heard Portia’s voice drifting through the open window. She sounded frustrated, as if she were arguing with someone, although Rosie couldn’t quite hear another voice. She stretched and got to her feet, holding her hand out to Pippin.
“You comin’?”
The squirrel just grunted and rolled over, evidently too comfortable to be bothered. Rosie shrugged and shouldered her bag, still yawning as she made her way outside to the gardens.
“Please? You’re really trying my patience here.”
“How dare you? Don’t you know who I am?!”
The voice that answered Portia was harsh and vicious; a shriek that pierced through the heavy foliage that still blocked Rosie’s view. She could feel volatile magic already crackling over her knuckles as she balled her hands into fists.
“Is this guy botherin’ you, Portia?” She asked as she burst into the clearing. But there was no one else to be seen, it was just Portia and a large white bird, which screeched angrily at them both.
“Oh, Rosie!” Portia seemed surprised to see her there, and let out a small laugh. Before them sat a small, cozy looking cottage, surrounded by a lush garden. The bird squawked out an expletive from where it perched above the door to an adjacent shed. “Rosie, this is Camio. Resident pain in the ass,” Portia said, gesturing to the bird, which lunged at her hand as she did.
“I can take care of him,” Rosie offered, already reaching for her dagger. Portia laughed and shook her head. She clicked her tongue and a small cat came running out of the garden and leapt onto her shoulder.
“That’s it Pepi, get him!”
The cat yowled excitedly as she swiped at the cockatoo. The bird shrieked, beating the air with its wings. One well aimed swipe sent it teetering, and it only just managed to take to the air before hitting the ground. It hissed a string of swears as it made a hasty retreat.
“They’ll never forget me! They’ll never survive without me! Bastards, bastards, BASTARDS!” The bird screeched one last time as it vanished over the trees.
“Ooh, that awful bird!” Portia said as she picked a feather off her shirt.
“He certainly had a colorful vocabulary,” Rosie said.
“Oh, you should have heard him the time I caught him trying to steal my apples,” Portia laughed as she petted the cat, still perched on her shoulder. “I’m surprised you managed to find this place,” she said, gesturing to the cottage. “It’s a little off the beaten path.”
“Well I heard you yelling at the bird and thought someone was hasslin’ you,'' Rosie said as she fluffed her hair, her cheeks a light pink. “Where are we, anyway?”
“Oh! How rude of me,” Portia cleared her throat and spread her arms out to show off the cottage. “Welcome to Casa de Portia, my own little oasis on the Palace grounds. Just watch out for the graspgourds, they’re feisty today.”
“You have graspgourds?” Rosie excitedly asked, oblivious to the vine winding around her ankle. “I can never get any to grow!”
“These ones sure seem to like you,” Portia laughed as she stepped on the vine, making it unravel and retreat from Rosie’s leg. “Why don’t you stay a while? It must have been a good walk to get here.” She gestured to a bench carved out of a log that rested in the shade of the cottage. Rosie made her way slowly through the garden, fawning over all the plants along the way. As she settled onto the bench, Portia shot her a wry smile as she picked up a rake.
“You don’t mind me working a little while we talk, do you? I’ve got a lot to do in the garden today.”
“Not at all! Would you like me to help?” Rosie asked, starting to get back up. Portia laughed and waved for her to sit back down.
“Rosie, you’re my guest! I can’t have you getting all sweaty in the garden. Not on your first visit, anyway. You just sit and look pretty,” Portia said with a wink.
“Well, if you’re sure,” Rosie sank back onto the bench, her gaze drifting over the garden and the trees surrounding it. Now that she had stopped to think, questions were beginning to peck at her mind. She remembered what had happened at the shop the day before, how Portia must have followed her, and how upset she had been to see Julian there.
“So…Julian’s your brother, isn’t he?” The familial resemblance had been obvious once they were together. She was starting to worry if it was enough for Portia herself to be in danger.
The shock and hurt that suddenly overcame Portia’s features was enough of an answer. “Yes,” Portia said, staring down at the ground. “I’m sorry about that scene at your shop, you know, I was just…surprised to see him there.”
“I was too,” Rosie said. He wasn’t unwelcome, but she’d have preferred if he had just asked instead of breaking in again.
“He’s got a real flair for the dramatic,” Portia said, her voice slightly less somber. “I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.”
“How long has it been since you’d last seen him?” Rosie asked. She remembered what Julian had said—that Portia had grown up strong.
Portia sighed and leaned against her rake. “Oh, fifteen years? Maybe more. He left Nevivon—that’s where we grew up, when I was still little…” Portia’s gaze was far away, trying to remember.
“You didn’t know he was here?” Rosie asked, thinking to herself that if she had a younger sister, she’d be sure to tell her when she was in town.
“Not until I saw him yesterday. What he thinks he’s doing here…” Portia said worriedly before she shook her head. “I’m only sorry I didn’t smack him a little harder for the trouble, honestly. He could be in huge trouble,” she sighed again before she squared her shoulders and managed to give her a halfhearted smile. “I didn’t know you two knew each other. That happen before or after milady hired you?”
Rosie fluffed the back of her hair. Why was Portia looking at her like that?
“I met him the night the Countess came to the shop. Just after her, in fact,” Rosie said as she remembered the glassy eyes of Julian’s mask. That piercing red; she’d been ready to kill him, she had been so frightened. She couldn’t imagine feeling that way now. “Funny, that was.”
“Hm, that sure sounds like my brother. Why didn’t you tell milady?” Portia asked. Her expression was genuine, and Rosie could tell she would understand her, no matter what she said.
“It weren’t any of her business. Well, it were, I guess,” Rosie said. “But I did na’ trust her.”
“And you still don’t?” Portia asked, as if reading her mind.
“No,” Rosie almost laughed. “I know that must sound so ungrateful, seen as how she’s been so good to me since I been here.”
“No it’s alright, I understand,” Portia said. “You know, milady’s convinced he’s the culprit, but I can tell you’re not. To be honest, I’m relieved. I want to help milady’s worries, but…”
“But he’s your brother ,” Rosie said gently.
“Exactly.”
“Look,” Rosie said as she got to her feet and made her way over. “I’m not convinced he didn’t kill the Count, but I’m not convinced he did, either. Even if he did, he doesn’t deserve to hang. Lucio, from what I know, was as much a plague on the city as the actual plague,” she paused, taking Portia’s hands. “I’m tryin’, but I dunnae know what to do. I dunnae know if I’m smart enough to figure this out.”
Portia smiled warmly and squeezed Rosie’s hands. “I’m sure you are, and there’s only one thing we can do: keep working at it. Things are messy now, but they can’t stay that way forever, right?”
“Right,” Rosie said, feeling surprisingly encouraged.
“Oh my,” Portia glanced up at the sky. “It’s getting kinda late, huh?”
It was already well past noon. Golden, late afternoon sun dappled the garden and danced across the women’s faces. “I’d better get back to work. But I’m glad you came to talk to me. I knew we’d be friends.”
Rosie grinned and hugged Portia, so tightly that the shorter woman let out a surprised squeak. The two laughed and waved goodbye as Rosie headed back into the foliage.
The late sun shining through the trees was warm on her back and the air was full of bird song, but Rosie was too ensnared in her own thoughts to care. She wanted to keep Julian out of the hangman’s noose, but how hard would that be with all of the Countess’ guards trying to sniff him out? She was but one woman, and they were many. She sighed and leaned against a tree, twisting the cord of her amulet in her fingers. Despite it all, she did feel better after speaking with Portia. Somehow, whatever trials that lay ahead seemed just a little less insurmountable. Still, she wasn’t keen to return to the Palace. She turned off of the path and allowed herself to wander aimlessly through the forest. The further she got from Portia’s cottage and the Palace, the darker it grew. She stopped and stared up at the sky; it couldn’t be nightfall yet; perhaps a storm was starting to roll through. She shook her head as dread began to grow in the pit of her stomach. She turned hastily and pressed through the darkness.
Eventually, the soaring spires of the Palace emerged above the treetops, with the rest of the shining building following into view. Rosie stopped at the treeline, staring out at the rolling fields before her. A creek serpentined through the grass, babbling quietly. At first she paid it no mind, before her attention suddenly snapped back to it. What she saw made a shiver run down her spine: the water was running red. She tried to tell herself that it was a trick of the setting sun, but there could be no mistaking it. Crimson flowed slowly and seeped into the banks. She dug her nails into the tree next to her, trying to keep herself steady as her heart raced. Terrified, she followed the water’s path with her eyes; it was seeping out of a small, shadowed corner of the Palace. Poison . It would have been easy to miss, the creek was small and out of the way, the guards would have little reason to patrol the area. She let out a strangled noise and shut her eyes, turning back towards the gardens. But, to her horror, she was greeted by rot and decay. The trees all along the field were dying, and seemed to have been drained of all their color. She gulped, clutching her amulet with shaking hands. On one side of her was a decaying forest, and on the other, a river full of poison. She was trapped.
‘ I have no choice, I have to follow it to its end. ’
With feet made of stone, she started to follow the water, making sure to keep an ample distance from the bank.
Soon, the vast fields gave way to a rocky cliffside, the stream being funneled into limestone structures. The aqueducts; dozens and dozens of them that flowed into the city to provide the citizens with water. She stood on the edge of the strange, twisting path, high enough that she could see the entirety of Vesuvia. The city sprawl was chaotic and vibrant, swirls of smoke left chimneys to dance in the air, twining together like lovers. A raspy caw from above alerted her to a raven that circled overhead. It swooped low as she walked along the aqueduct, at times seeming to fly alongside her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the bird was somehow familiar. Regardless, she appreciated its company.
“Oh, hello,” Rosie said as the raven landed heavily on her shoulder. “Are you friendly?”
The raven tilted its head and gently nibbled on a strand of her hair.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said. The bird’s eyes were wary, but it remained still as she carefully brushed its cheek. A sudden noise startled both of them, and the bird vanished back into the darkened sky. Rosie sighed as she was left alone once again.
‘Sure hope Pippin enjoyed his nap,’ she thought as she continued walking.
Eventually, the aqueducts lowered and joined another water line, forming one of the many canals that led deeper into the city. Rosie could see the beginnings of urban life as she reached the city’s outskirts. Tall, old buildings rose up against the horizon, almost blocking out the skyline. She stopped, staring at the canal. The water wasn’t the same bright red as it was in the fields, but she could tell the poison was still there, hidden in the depths.
‘Crimson poison leaking from the Palace to poison the city’s water, ’ Rosie thought, her lips pursed. ‘ How poetic. ’
“Rosie?”
A quiet voice made her jump. A tall figure slowly emerged under the dim light of a street lantern. Standing with half his face cast in shadow, was Julian.