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Chapter Text

Dawn hadn’t broken yet.  Not even the morning star had crowned the horizon.  But Altheia was wide awake.  She’d only been able to sleep lightly, her mind turning over and over everything that had happened on that eventful trip to Port Tremaire.  Julian buying her a rapier, she buying him a spyglass like he’d marked on his map, him seemingly enchanting that spyglass.  And her meeting a man who had apparently been her First Mate, when she’d been a privateer, captain of her own ship, before .

After the merchant ship that had brought them home from Port Tremaire had docked, they’d gone straight to Julian’s house - and though it was certainly feeling homely, it wasn’t quite theirs yet.  Julian had been exhausted, because even though whatever spell he’d cast had been accidental, it was still draining.  Still, he insisted on trying to read through more of his book, the origin story of Hydra, the Cup and the Crow, taking notes of other constellations and stars where the symbols in the circle around them included the inverted triangle sign for water.  His coffee got progressively stronger, until even after the third cup so strong that Altheia wrinkled her nose at it, his forehead dropped to the page of his book.  Only then, when Altheia nudged him awake, did he admit defeat and let her lead him to bed.

And she’d made love to him, because how could she not?  When he, tired though he was, still carried a faint aura of restless, frenetic energy that she could feel as soon as they were laid bare, skin to skin, aura to aura, hearts bonded and limbs entwined.

Now, she lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling.  On a whim, she pointed, and cast a little orb of light, floating up to the ceiling and hovering there, tiny and white in the dark.  Then another, and she narrowed her eyes as she tried to picture it.  She had the fleeting imagining of Julian dramatically throwing out his hand to scatter tiny pinpricks of light across the whole of the ceiling, a night sky indoors, and the thought made her smile.  

Eventually, a passable Hydra constellation shone down at her.  The Knight of Cups in the stars.  The Knight of stars?

Altheia turned her head to look at him.  Julian was sound asleep, facing her, one arm draped over her waist and the other tucked up under his pillow.  The light from her ‘stars’ dimly illuminated his sharp cheek bones and prominent, gently curved nose, the shadows of the lines radiating from the corners of his eyes, the slight tic in his hollow cheek, the bow of his mouth.  It wasn’t enough to show his freckles, but she knew them, could see in her mind’s eye how they scattered over his cheek bones and, fainter, over the bridge of his nose.  The auburn of his hair had an almost plum-coloured hue to it in the dark, but the light could more easily pick out the occasional strands of silver.  A glimmer caught Altheia’s eye and she carefully brushed back his sideburn to find a small silver patch in the underlayer of hair.  

She smoothed the hair back down over his temple and, realising she wasn’t going to be able to sleep, carefully lifted Julian’s arm by the wrist, up off of her waist, and wriggled away from him.  She watched his eyes as she gently lay his hand onto the space on the mattress where she’d just been laying, but his dark lids didn’t flicker.

Their clothes were scattered on the floor, and she found her underwear and then Julian’s shirt.  The shirt was far too big, of course, and with nothing to fasten it closed when it wasn’t tucked into a tight waistband, but Altheia didn’t care much about that, not when she could turn her head just a little and smell him on the oversized collar.  And now, fresh from their trip, she could smell the sea there, too.  She closed her eyes, and for a moment she was in the crow’s nest of their ship, Julian by her side and the sea breeze in their hair.

With a hum and a sigh of mixed feelings, Altheia went downstairs.  Almost without thinking, she cast light spells to light the lamps in the living room and the kitchen, a small flame to light the stove, and then wondered what she’d do with the stove salamander if she moved in with Julian.  It belonged to Asra, really, but if he kept his habit of leaving for days at a time, he wouldn’t be there to care for it.

She stopped herself with a short laugh.  Of all the things that should be occupying her mind, the stove salamander could wait.  She made her tea and went back to the living room, to the desk under the window at the bottom of the stairs.  After a moment’s thought, she went back and fetched the half bottle of rum left from their night at the Rowdy Raven.

She was startled by a tap at the window as she sat down, and pulled back the curtain to see a small, beady eye glinting in the light from her lamp.  She smiled and opened the window, and Korin hopped in.

How was the trip?   the crow’s silent ‘voice’ said into Altheia’s mind.

“It was nice.  Very nice.”

You found something of yourself?

“Not exactly.”

Korin tilted her head to the side, blinking slowly as she waited for more.  Altheia sighed.  

“We had a good time, it was fun.  Took my mind off things for a bit.  Julian bought me a rapier.”

Korin ruffled her feathers in surprise, and hopped back to the edge of the desk as Altheia fetched the weapon from the umbrella stand next to the front door.  She couldn’t help chuckling at how silly it was.  Julian told her he’d bought the stand simply because he thought every house should have one, and somehow it had avoided being looted while he was gone.  He didn’t even own an umbrella.  But as soon as Altheia took her coat off and looked for somewhere to put the rapier, he’d decided it could go there for now.

She lay it out on the desk, running her fingers over the cold steel of the narrow blade, then around the elaborate handguard, ribbons of silver-plated steel curling and entwining.

It’s beautiful.  Red One had coin for this?

Altheia chuckled.  “Not exactly.”

Much is ‘not exactly’.

Altheia sighed and stroked Korin’s breast feathers with the back of her finger.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

You have a crystal focus?  Or ‘not exactly’?

Altheia raised her eyebrows in surprise, but ignored the jibe.  

“You know about the use of magic with rapiers?”

Her familiar’s wings shifted in the corvid equivalent of a shrug.  

A little. 

“Well, no, I didn't get a focus.  Julian wanted to, but I wouldn’t let him.”

Not much use then, is it.

Altheia blinked at her.  “You mean stabbing with the pointy end won’t work?” she said sarcastically.  When Korin didn’t respond with more than a withering stare, Altheia added, “I’m not exactly planning on fighting anybody.  But it’ll look nice with my collection.”

She smiled as she pictured it at the back of the dressing table with her beachcombed collection of shells, feathers, driftwood and pirate treasure.  Then she frowned, as she thought of how it had felt when she held it, as if she had used it for fighting.

“Korin, when I held it I felt something.  Julian and I had a playfight, and it felt like… like I knew exactly what I was doing.  It reminded me of when Asra taught me to dance, the steps came naturally, as if I remembered them.  This was almost a dance too, in a different way.  The positioning, the poise, the pirouette.”  Almost without thinking, she whispered, “A dance of ice and steel.”  

She sighed heavily and pushed the rapier to the back edge of the desk.  Korin made a sound in the back of her throat.  

Soul memory.   Her ‘voice’ was quiet, almost thoughtful.  Your soul remembers what your mind can not.  

“Like muscle memory?”  That made sense to Altheia.  "On the ship, too.  I felt like I could have tied every knot, set every sail, climbed the rigging or manned the wheel.  It felt like… like home ."  She hesitated, before speaking next, part of her not wanting to voice it out loud, as if that would make it more real.  Korin's eyes were unblinking as she tilted her head expectantly.  Eventually, Altheia said, “When we were on our way home, a man at the docks called me ‘Captain’.  Said he was my First Mate.  Asra told me I was a privateer with my own ship, so maybe…"

Altheia slumped back in her chair, turning her face up to the ceiling.  “What does it matter, anyway?”  She smiled then and turned her head to face Korin.  “Julian used magic.  Very accidentally, and he doesn’t really know what he did.”

Sounds like something Red One would do.

“Look.”  She sat up and took the spyglass from the desk drawer, where Julian had stowed it, and lay it out on the desk.  She couldn’t help but enjoy seeing it next to her rapier - gifts bought for each other, the navigator and the privateer.  Except… “He enchanted it somehow.”  She showed Korin the sapphire blue dots and lines of the Hydra constellation, with the Cup and Corvus on its back.  “With this.  And…”  She couldn’t help grinning.  “Now it shows everything upside down.”

Korin tilted her head to the side, puzzled.  Upside down?

“It was fine when I first gave it to him, he said.  Clear lens, good focus, high magnification.  And now it’s still all of those things, except it shows everything upside down.”

The crow threw her head back with a rough caw of her equivalent to laughter.

“I know, it was a very uh, a very me sort of magic.”

Altheia turned and Korin looked up to see Julian, dressed only in his underwear, coming down the stairs, an amused lift to his lips telling that he wasn’t offended.  Korin cawed a greeting, then flew up into the rafters to find a perch.

“Sorry,” Altheia said, feeling heat rise to her cheeks as Julian came to the desk, turned and hopped up to sit on the edge, long legs crossed and hanging down next to her.

He gave a dismissive wave of his hand, then smiled.  “Considering you were working from memory, the position of the stars on the ceiling was very accurate.  I’m impressed.”  His grin turned mischievous.  “Though you did miss two from the serpent, and one from the crow.  But I’ll let you off - we both know how your memory is.”

Feigning offence, Altheia smacked his thigh with the back of her hand.  Julian caught her hand and held it, stroking her knuckles with his thumb.  The smile dropped.

“Are you alright?  It’s not like you to get up in the middle of the night.”

Altheia sighed.  Her instinct was to tell him that yes she was fine, she was just thirsty, and stayed up just to talk to Korin.  But at his pointed look, knowing his answer would be that no one drinks rum to quench their thirst and that her pointing out she also had tea wouldn’t quite cut it, she said,

“I don’t think I am, actually.”

“Tell me.”

She hesitated, not quite sure how to put it into words.  Eventually she said,

“I thought going to Port Tremaire might help.  But instead it made things worse.”

“Help with what?” he prompted when she fell silent.

She pulled her hand away and looked down at the desk, tracing the grain with her index finger.

“Taking a break, relaxing, maybe find out a little more about myself.  That last point wasn’t really Nadia’s intent when she suggested it,” she added wryly.

“Mmm.  I see.”

Hearing his slightly hurt tone, Altheia rushed to reassure him.

“I did have a good time, Julian.  I had a lot of fun, I enjoyed spending time with you.  Really!  I love the gift you bought me, and I love that I could find something from your map.  But it’s just… the rest of it.”

“The man who called you ‘Captain’, you mean?”

“Yes.  It’s just… another name to add to the many that don’t mean anything.”  Suddenly, as if starting to speak it opened a floodgate, it came rushing out, and she began ticking off the epithets on her fingers.  

“Morning star, evening star, the thirteenth star in Valetia, Venera, Queen of Cups, Queen of your heart, goddess of love, Captain, your apprentice - was I a doctor?  Asra’s apprentice - was I ever really a magician?  Shopkeep, Daughter of the Sea, the fucking Fool .  Who am I, Julian?  What am I?”  She gave a backwards wave of her hand towards the rapier, then poured half a glass of rum and shot some of it back, grimacing as it burnt its way down her throat.  “I can’t be a captain without a ship.”  She snorted a bitter laugh.  “I wouldn’t know what to do with one even if I did.  I’m no Queen , that’s for sure.  I’m not Asra’s apprentice anymore - I know more magic than he does, apparently , except I don’t remember any of it.  None of it means anything.”

“Some of it means a lot, actually.”

She ignored his faintly hurt expression.  

“But what I am , Julian, is dead .”  She looked up at his confused, shocked and wide eyes.  “I died .  From the Red Plague.”

“I’m sorry…”

“No, it wasn’t your fault.”  She waved aside his apology impatiently and took another gulp of rum.  “That’s not my point.  My point is that hundreds, maybe thousands of people died.  I was just one of them.  I wasn’t important, nothing special, except to you and to Asra.  Except I made you forget me.  And he clung to some ideal of me.  Resurrected me into a body that wasn’t meant for me.  I’m a ghost,” she said on a mirthless laugh.  “A shade, a wraith.”

“That’s not true.”  Julian took up her hand again, this time kissing the back of it.  

Not true , Korin's voice echoed.

“It is.”  She wiped her eyes with the back of her free hand.  "I'm no Queen or goddess.  Not of Cups or hearts or swords, or wands or pentacles for that matter, or anything else.  When Asra said the Queen of Cups card called to him, it was as a representation, it wasn’t me .   No more than Judgement is.  Do you see the difference?  No more than the Hanged Man, Star and Knight of Cups are you.”

Julian’s brow creased as he nodded thoughtfully.  “I think so.”

Altheia squeezed his hand, as much for her comfort as for his; he gave a squeeze back.

“Asra had me on a pedestal for years,” she told him quietly, “and I don't want that anymore.  I don’t know who I am , but I do know what I’m not .”  

"I didn't mean...  it was just a, a..."

"I know.  But we're the same, you and I.  I don't want to be revered or worshipped.  We're equal, and we walk this path together, side by side."

Julian nodded humbly.  "You're right.  I didn't think.  I'm sorry."  His eyes turned up then, looked at her from under his lashes, and his mouth curled a little as he said, "How about ‘Captain’?  Sometimes?  It is factually accurate, after all."

She couldn't help but smile at his eyebrow waggle even as she rolled her eyes, but remembered when they'd been on the ship in Death's realm and how Julian had enjoyed her in the ostentatious captain's hat.

So she smirked as she said, "Well, if the hat fits..."

Julian grinned, went to the door to fetch her hat, and practically bounded back to drop it onto her head.  "How about that?  Perfect fit."

As Altheia couldn’t help but laugh, she allowed Julian’s distraction to ease the tension.  She hadn’t meant to hurt him.  But she was glad to have it off her chest.  The rest could wait, especially when colour was already rising to his cheeks; even more so when she tilted her head down, tipped her hat and turned her eyes to him from under the brim of it with as sultry a smile as she could manage.

Korin gave a disgruntled caw and left the same way she'd come in.

Julian leaned down, making Altheia laugh again as he angled his head to navigate his way under the brim of the hat, and kissed her cheek.  With his lips close to her ear, he murmured,

“Let me keep Morning Star?  It’s…”  He stroked one of the white locks of hair that framed her face.  “It’s important to me.”

Altheia nodded with a fond smile.  “Yes, you can keep Morning Star.”

“Thank you.”  His kiss moved to her mouth, and she sighed into it.  Long fingers curled around the back of her neck.  And his lips broke from the kiss just enough to barely brush hers as he gave his incorrigible smirk.  “Is there anything I can do for my beloved Captain ?”

Altheia couldn’t repress a giggle.  “Yes, actually.”  She put a hand on his knee, slid up his lean thigh and hooked her fingers into the waistband of his underwear.  “Take these off.  And put your boots on.”

Julian leaned back, looking down at her with a puzzled frown.  “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He blinked, then grinned and gave a mock salute.  “Aye-aye, Captain!”

Altheia laughed, and it melted into a hum as she watched Julian do just as she’d asked, her toes curling and heart rate picking up as he turned back to her, all broad chest and long legs, and the boots , black leather reaching past his knees.  He was already semi-hard, and she could feel that hot coil tightening low between her legs.  

He wasted no time in turning her chair around, kneeling down and parting her thighs.  Altheia bit her lip and watched as Julian’s eyes closed and his lips pressed to her inner thigh, dragging kisses all the way up. He pushed his nose against her underwear, sending a ripple of pleasure running through her.  She felt the heat of his breath through the fabric of her clothing, and then he turned his eyes up to her.

“Could you, er…”  His words disappeared into a hum against her clothed clit, making her shiver, before he looked up again, his cheeks reddening.  “The hat.  Could… could you leave it on?”

Altheia tilted her head coquettishly, hoping her smile seemed sultry rather than shy.  

“You want to do your duty to your Captain, hmm?”  

Julian groaned softly.  “I do, very much.”

Altheia’s response was to tip her hat and offer a half-smile, and when Julian tugged at her underwear with his teeth, she lifted her hips and sighed as he pulled the clothing down her legs.  His hands slid back up to her hips and he gripped them as his lips again travelled up.  But between kisses, he suddenly asked,

“What about Evening star?”

She blinked in surprise at the question.  “What about it?”

“Can I call you Evening star?”

Altheia hummed as she thought, though the continued journey of Julian’s kisses was distracting.  

“Yes, alright.”

“Thank you.”  He nipped lightly at her inner thigh, and turned his eyes up to her again.  “Queen of my heart?”

She laughed lightly, but it became a gasp as Julian nosed his way between her folds, and she leaned back in the chair, pushing her hips forward.

“No, you can’t.  No queens."

“Oh.”  His lips puckered in a pout as he turned pleading eyes up to her, and then he focussed his attentions on sweeping his tongue over her entrance, his pout becoming a purse of plush lips over her clit.  Those lips moved against her, his breath caressing her most sensitive part, as he asked, “I suppose ‘Goddess of love’ is out of the question?”

Altheia laughed again.  “Oh my word… yes, very much so.”  She moaned softly, her eyelids growing heavy as she breathed, “A little to the left... yes there, there, yes! don't move..."

Julian continued peppering little kisses and licks over her clit.  He paused again, and this time his eyes smouldered and his eyebrow arched devilishly.  

“Not even Venera ?”

Another name for the star that was the goddess of love, but he knew full well what he was doing as he rolled the ‘r’ - perhaps more exaggerated than he usually would.  

“Mmm.”  She gripped his hair.  “I’ll allow it.”

“You just like how I say the ‘r’, don’t you?”

Before she could respond that yes, she liked it very much, he rolled his tongue in that trilling, low purr, his eyebrows quirking, and all that escaped her was a breathy ‘Fuck’ .

Julian hummed happily, sweeping over her again with broad strokes of his tongue, and then his tongue was feeling its way inside her and his nose was pressing against her clit, and she arched her back and turned her face up as she closed her eyes, losing herself to him.

And he stopped again , and this time with lips plush and wet he asked,

“ Alteya ?”

“Dammit, Julian!  Can you just…”

He grinned once more, evidently very pleased with himself, and slipped two fingers inside her, crooking them upwards to find just the right spot, and then burying his lips and tongue into her folds again, against her clit.  He didn’t speak again until he’d pushed her over her peak, the tempest rushing through her and pushing his name from her lips as his fingers pressed into her trembling thighs.   

When she’d stilled and caught her breath, Julian sat back on his heels, his hands on his thighs, running his tongue over lips curved in a self-satisfied smile, eyelids dark and heavy.  Altheia laced her fingers into the thick auburn waves of his hair, and pulled him close to kiss him deeply.  As he knelt up, she felt his erection press against her leg, and she sniggered against his mouth.

“Is that a hint?”

“Could be…”

She pulled back, narrowed her eyes just slightly as her mouth curved and she bit her lip, and told him,

“On the desk.”

She’d never seen anyone move so fast as Julian springing to his feet and hopping back onto the desk, drawing his knees up and hooking his boot heels on the edge as Altheia placed her hands on his chest and gently pushed him onto his back.

She stood between his legs, ran her hands down his lean thighs and met his heavy-lidded gaze, and held it as her hand wrapped around his erection and moved up and down with slow, steady, firm strokes.  Without a word, she dipped and took the smooth head in her mouth, and sucked gently on it.  Julian moaned, then whimpered as the brim of her hat hit his stomach, preventing her from taking him fully in her mouth.  After several more slides of her lips, from the tip only halfway to the base, Julian’s very small voice asked,

“Your… the hat, can you…”

“Hmm?”  Altheia withdrew and looked at him with a wide-eyed expression of innocence.  “What about the hat?”

“It, ah… it’s in the way.  A bit.”

“Is it?”  As Altheia’s right hand returned to stroking him base to tip, her left slid down to cup his balls.  “What should I do about it?”

“Take it off?  If… if you want?  Please?”

Altheia straightened with a smile.  “Alright.”  She took off the hat, put it on the chair and shook her hair out.   

“Then you have to do something for me.”

Julian panted.  “Anything!”

“Pull my hair back, so you can see.”

Julian groaned, part despairing, part longing.

“A-alright.  Anything you say.”

“Good.”

She dipped down again, and hummed as she took him in her mouth once more, sliding all the way to the back of her throat and making up the difference with twisting strokes.  The hand cupping his balls opened up, and her fingers pressed onto his perineum.  

She stopped with her lips halfway down his shaft and turned her eyes up to him through the curtain of hair that she’d deliberately allowed to fall around her face.  Julian lifted his head to look at her, a needy slope to his eyebrows, and his blush deepened as he reached down and combed his fingers through her hair, pulling it back.  

“Not so gentle,” she told him, her voice husky.

He whimpered, and his grip tightened enough not quite to pull, but that there was a stinging pressure, and Altheia shivered at the pleasure of it.  With renewed vigour, she took him into her mouth again, taking a deep inhalation through her nose of the smell of his musk and the leather of his boots.  That leather creaked quietly as she ran her hands up both of his thighs, pushing them back slightly.

She withdrew him from her mouth and straightened, meeting his gaze again, as one hand returned to stroking him and the other moved down his perineum to his tight entrance, and he whimpered, pushing his hips towards her.

“Don’t hold back…” he said huskily.  “Please don’t hold back, not this time, please…”

“Alright, my love.  No holding back.”

When he took a breath to speak, she silenced him by sliding two fingers between his lips, over his hot tongue, and he eagerly sucked on them, eyes drooping half closed.  One hand still held her hair, the other stretched to the side to grip the edge of the desk.

Altheia withdrew her fingers, crouched and circled his entrance with her tongue, pressing her upper lip to his perineum and her nose nestling into his balls and the coarse hair there, and she hummed with pleasure as she heard him moan and felt his hips tremble. 

She pressed the tip of one finger to it, waiting for a reaction, and when Julian whimpered she worked her way in. She leaned over him and pressed her body against his, feeling the heavy rise and fall of his chest as she kissed him, the open-mouthed breathy kisses in return.  And when she judged he was relaxed enough, she heard his whine as she teased her second finger in, and his hips pushed against her hand in little thrusts of encouragement. Searching for that sacred spot, she pulled her kiss back so she could watch his eyes and the bite of his lip, listen to his gasps and whimpers, and when his eyes fluttered closed and he tilted his head back with a high-pitched groan, she knew she'd found it.  

Altheia fixed a lovebite to Julian's neck, and he choked out a cry; and then another, higher pitched, as she took his erection in her mouth again.  With a soft whine Julian obediently threaded his long fingers into her hair and tugged just as she'd asked, and Altheia purred with pleasure.  She sucked harder, took him deeper over her tongue to the back of her throat, and her fingers worked that sacred spot with more vigorous circles, and when Julian stuttered a litany in at least five languages one after the other, Altheia didn't stop, savouring the smell of musk and leather, the needy whines and moans, the taste of him .  

Julian's hips raised up off the desk one final time, his knuckles of one fist wedged between his teeth to muffle his cries, and Altheia gagged on his erection before greedily swallowing his seed.

Julian laughed breathily, then sighed as Altheia withdrew her fingers.  He released her hair so that it cascaded around her face again, as she hummed and swirled her tongue around his softening and sensitive cock, delighting in the responding twitch of his hips.  She slowly withdrew so it fell against his stomach, and she ran her tongue up the underside, feeling him squirm, and she asked,

"Again?"

Julian laughed and bit his lip, but shook his head.

"N-no, not this time.  Sorry, thank you, thank you darling, you just…"

Altheia smiled as she cast the spell to clean them up, took hold of his hands and pulled him up to sit on the edge of the desk, his legs hanging down either side of her.  As his arms made their way around her, she rested her hands almost tentatively on his shoulders and looked down, suddenly shy.

“Was it, um…?”

“Hmm?  Was what, what?”  Julian paused, then realised what she was talking about.  “Oh!  Oh darling yes, yes it absolutely was.”  He curled his forefinger under her chin and gently tilted her face up to him, with a smile that was part fond, part bemused.  “Wasn’t it obvious?”  

“I… suppose, yes it was.”

Julian touched his lips against hers, and she felt them curve into a smile.  “Now I know how it feels when I ask you .”

Altheia returned his smile and poked his shoulder.  “Yes, you make me come so hard I see stars and then still ask ‘was that alright, darling?’ ”

She’d deepened her voice and attempted to add the hint of an accent that Julian’s voice carried.  He leaned back and looked wide-eyed at her.

“Is that how I sound?”

She giggled.  “A bit.”

One corner of his mouth lifted.  “But can you roll your ‘r’s?”

She tried, and found - to Julian’s great amusement - that she couldn’t.  

“Er… no, I can’t.”

She laughed, and so did Julian as he pulled her close.  His laughter melted into a hum as he kissed her neck, then murmured,

“Speaking of stars… come back to bed?”

Altheia glanced at the window, where light was beginning to creep under the curtain.

“It’s dawn, the morning star has risen.”  

She spoke light-heartedly and twirled a curl of Julian’s hair around her forefinger.  

Julian sighed.  “True, she has.”

“And you wanted to make an early start, didn’t you?”

Julian smiled when Altheia nipped the tip of his nose.  “That’s also true.  I did.  But…”  He nuzzled her neck, laying kisses under her ear.  “I think I might have some time for a cuddle.”

Altheia found herself blushing and grinning stupidly.

“There’s always time for a cuddle.” 

“Of course there is!”  Julian dropped off the desk, then held Altheia’s waist as he looked into her eyes, his expression serious for a moment.  “You might not know who you are yet, Theia, but I do know one thing - you’re my love, my port in a storm - you’re mine.  And I’m yours.”

Altheia nodded and smiled up at him.  “Yes, I am.  I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

Chapter Text

Altheia stood in the middle of the shop floor, hands on her hips, and looked around.  Everything was in place - at least, as much as it could be.  Her stock of fresh herbs and some of the powders had gone stale and had to be thrown out, but there were plenty of crystals - polished, uncut and powdered - and other non perishables that were still good to sell.  She’d sent word to Barth that she had powdered frostweed at a discount price, and asked him to pass on Julian’s message to any of the pirate surgeons that she had the ingredients needed for their anaesthetics - as he’d discovered when he made one to use during the dreamwalking ritual.

Everything was in place - except Altheia.  It felt… wrong, somehow.  She’d changed into the clothes she’d always worn as shopkeep - a brown skirt, white blouse, and hair tied back in a tight ponytail.  But it wasn’t her.  Her legs practically itched from the way the skin of her thighs touched under the skirt, and she longed for her leggings.  Her shoulders missed the weight of her shirt, and her neck felt cold with her hair lifted above it.  Instead of putting her back into the role and the place she’d assumed for more than three years, it had made her… wrong .

Shifting her shoulders and kicking her skirt out in front of her, she went to the back room.  The cloth was neatly laid out on the table, the crystal ball at its centre, ambient lighting from the lamps around the room, and her tarot deck - the one bought for her by Julian, all with crows instead of the animals of Asra’s deck or the figures she’d seen on others.  That felt the most wrong of all.  A sense of guilt came over her, because it had been a thoughtful gift.  But it wasn’t her anymore.  She wasn’t a fortune teller.  Despite her talent for it, as Asra always told her, it wasn’t what she wanted to do.  

Coming to a decision, Altheia put the deck in a drawer, snuffed out the lamps with a flick of her wrist, and firmly shut the door.  People mostly came for Asra anyway - Altheia had been the cheaper option.

“All set?”

Portia’s voice pulled Altheia from her thoughts, and she looked up to smile at her.  Julian’s sister had offered to help set up the shop and man the counter while Asra was away.  She was also eager to learn anything she could about magic and the ingredients and magical paraphernalia that Altheia stocked.  She wore a similar outfit to Altheia, though her blouse was frillier and lower cut, and her wild red hair was bundled on the top of her head and wrapped in a shimmering gold scarf - a gift from Nadia.

“I think so.”

Portia beamed and picked up the sign, unlocked the front door, and dragged the sign outside.  A few moments later she reappeared, with a flourish not too dissimilar to one that Julian would have made.  

“Ta-da!  I officially declare Fortunes, Cures and Curses open for business!”

Altheia shook her head with a laugh, and leaned on her forearms on the counter.  

“I might change the name, you know.”

“What?  Why?”  Portia bent a little to peer at a large glass jar containing a pearlescent, globulous substance that shimmered when she poked it.  “What’s this?”

“Extract of moon jellies.”  Altheia sighed, resting her chin in her palm and her elbow on the counter as she looked at the shop door.  “When I first… well, when I was resurrected, I suppose, the shop was called Arcane Affinities .  I told Asra it was a boring name.”  She smiled as she remembered how Asra’s violet eyes had widened in surprise, and then he’d laughed heartily.  “So we came up with this name together.  The ‘curses’ part was Asra’s idea of a joke.”

Portia laughed.  “I’m sure it didn’t help Ilya’s idea that Asra cursed him.”

Altheia joined her laughter.  “I can imagine it now.  He turns up at the shop, sees the name, and-”

“He would've said ‘I knew it!’” Portia put in, drawing herself up as tall as she could, with a dramatic flourish and lowering her voice to match Julian’s as she did the most exaggerated impression of him.  “‘Proof!  It was the witch that cursed me!  And now he brazenly sells them!’”

They could laugh about it now, but at the time the idea that Julian could be so convinced that Asra had cursed him, had distressed Altheia greatly.

Then Portia leaned onto the countertop, glanced at the door, and conspiratorially whispered,

“You don’t actually sell curses, do you?”

Altheia snorted a laugh.  “No, I don’t.”  She took up a dustcloth and idly polished a spot on the display next to the counter, and nonchalantly added, “But whether someone uses the moon jellies extract to make a balm for itchy scalp, or a curse of tepid horn, is nobody’s business but theirs.”

She gave a sidelong glance and quirk of her brow, and held back her laughter at Portia’s gaping expression.  But she cracked when Portia screeched with laughter as the realisation of what ‘tepid horn’ meant dawned on her.

As expected, business was slow.  Altheia pulled out a beginner’s spellbook and talked through some simple spells, and it wasn’t long before Portia was able to conjure up the tiniest ball of light, and light a candle.  Her aura prickled with latent magical energy just like her brother’s.  

At midday, Portia went to the market to get them both some lunch, and hawked Altheia’s wares while she was there.  That drew a few more customers in the afternoon.  Barth showed up for his discounted powdered frostweed for ice, and amethyst essence for his hangover remedy.  When Altheia regretfully told him she had no peppermint, he simply shrugged and said he knew that Mazelinka grew it.  And then the formidable pirate queen herself stopped by with a list of ingredients for Altheia to procure.

In between customers, Altheia pulled out a book on the Arcana and had Portia flick through it, and told her to focus on learning about The Star.  But that brought thoughts of Julian to mind - not that he ever was far from her thoughts.

Glancing at the now-closed door to the back room, she remembered the night of their first meeting.  The first meeting either of them remembered, anyway.  Terrified at first of the imposingly tall, dark stranger who’d apparently broken in, puffing himself up with his too-big coat and his plague mask disguise intended to intimidate as much as disguise his face, she’d realised as soon as he’d opened his mouth that it was all theatre.  She’d sensed his aura, and there was not a drop of malice in it.  She'd read his fortune as he'd asked, and her irritation that he wouldn't listen to her interpretation of the Death card quickly gave way as she listened, an eyebrow increasingly raised in baffled amusement at his well-rehearsed speech - he was cursed, an abomination, even Death themself didn't want him.  She was sure that she’d heard such a monologue at the community theatre.  

When she’d met him at the aqueduct, when he’d shown his vulnerability and the metaphorical mask slipped as the plague mask fell into the water, she’d known for sure that it was all an act, an elaborate ruse of self-preservation, one that he discarded as he leaned into his instinctive trust of her.

And she also realised now that his derogatory referring to Asra as a ‘witch’ was a cover, perhaps as much for him to bury whatever feelings remained from himself , as to disguise them from her.

As for Asra…  she thought of when she’d caught Julian breaking out of the shop.  Except, he hadn’t broken in or out at all.  He had a key.  At the time, he’d distracted her with his insistence that she could search him, knowing full well she was attracted to him - and he to her, touch-starved and aching for her hands on him.  But now, she remembered his words.  

Asra had given him the key, years ago.  So he could make ‘after-hours house calls’ he said.  And Altheia, stupid and naive, had wondered if Asra had been so sick as to need the care not just of a doctor, but the palace physician himself.

Now she knew better.  The house calls hadn’t been for medical treatment.  It had been more, much more.  And neither of them had told her, more than Asra’s vague ‘friends, then something more, then something else.’   

She tried to push it from her mind, as she had so many times before.  But this time, being back in the shop that had been part of her identity for so long, with all the memories of all that she’d learnt tied to it, the thought lingered, it festered.

But there was more, too.  That, under the name Arcane Affinities , it had been her shop before .  That Asra had stayed and been mentored by her here before .  That Julian had visited her here before .  It was intrinsically part of her past and she remembered none of it, and neither did Julian.

As the day wore on, Altheia grew more and more agitated.  She didn’t belong here.  It may have been her shop, left to her by an aunt she didn’t remember, but she’d only ever known it as Asra’s.  Everything was wrong .  She was wrong.  And she needed to escape.

“Portia, could you man the shop on your own for a bit?”

Portia’s bright blue eyes widened in surprise as she turned from the crystals she’d been rearranging on a shelf.  “Sure!  Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled.  “Probably not.  I… need to speak to Julian.”

As she made for the door, Portia took hold of her forearm and smiled warmly.

“I know it must be hard for you.  But I’m here, take all the time you need.”

Altheia returned the smile and left.

As soon as she stepped outside she wished she’d changed out of the skirt, and growled in annoyance as she hurried as fast as she could towards the palace.  She did need to see Julian.  But not yet.

“And Beauty is gonna go riiiiiiight here !”   

Theo patted the back right corner of the desk, beaming, and then scurried to the crate that he’d used to carry his things from the tiny room in Selina’s clinic, to the much larger one in Julian’s.

But as the boy lifted out the glass globe containing water and his ‘most best’ leech, Julian set his hands on his hips and turned to the window, then back again to the desk, eyes narrowed slightly.

“No no, she’ll be in direct sunlight for most of the afternoon.  She’d be better in this corner here.”

He tapped the back left corner and smiled at Theo.  But the boy’s face froze, and his jaw slackened slightly.  Clearly he didn’t want the desk layout he was familiar with to be tampered with.

Julian cleared his throat and straightened, looked around again, and then smiled at Theo, pointing one finger upwards.

“ Or !  Or, we could just move the desk.  Let’s see, grab that end will you, please?”

Theo sighed audibly in relief, and set the leech’s bowl carefully back in the crate before rushing to lift one end of the desk.  Together, they set the small desk with one half under the window, the other - with Beauty’s corner - sitting in the darkness just beside it.  

The boy set Beauty in her spot and clapped his hands together, barely able to contain his joy.  Julian smiled fondly, mussed his hair, and then looked around at the rest of the room.  While he and Altheia had been at Port Tremaire, Selina had, with the help of a handful of Julian’s friends from the Rowdy Raven who were easily plied with a round or two, started moving her alchemy lab into Julian’s old clinic, where there was more space.  He’d given Theo the room which, in the past, he’d used for leech treatments, and had already managed to procure a couple of cabinets.  

For a moment, Julian’s mind wandered back to a time, years ago, when he’d been able to treat several patients at a time in this room.  He could remember Selina helping him, and the other apprentices he’d lost to the Red Plague.  But when he tried to remember Altheia, there was that now familiar sense of déjà vu, and then the vertigo and headache.  She was there, just out of reach.

He wanted to give in, to keep trying, to push through the pain to reach what little he could.  But now wasn’t the time, and so he forced his trembling hand to take the tincture from his coat pocket and took a drop.

Once the feeling had faded, Julian sighed and left Theo to put the rest of his things away while he went to the back room, where Selina had nearly finished setting up her lab - glass tubes and distillation flasks along one wall, a complex apparatus consisting of ceramic pots topped with alembics, more glass tubes and flasks, vials and bellows.  She’d started to set out the smaller components - crucibles, pestles and mortars, boxes and baskets of reagents and utensils.  In one box were the materials she needed for her glyphs - crystals, vellum, ink and quills, clay tiles and small squares of canvas.  All of which he’d seen in her clinic, but here they were tidier and more organised.  

Selina was standing in front of an open cabinet as Julian stepped in, arranging glass jars so that their labels faced outwards.  Her customary blonde bun was brushed more neatly than he’d seen it before, and the white apron over her plain green dress was clean.  She turned when she heard him, and smiled.

“There’s not much more to do now,” she told him.  “It should be up and running by tomorrow.”

“Wonderful!”  Julian walked around the room, looking at all the equipment and reagents.  “I’m looking forward to it.”  He peered into the open vent of a bronze alembic, then straightened and whirled around towards the door.  “Ah, I nearly forgot!  I’ve got something for you.”

He’d left a small box by the clinic door, and when he came back with it he put it onto the table in the centre of the room - the one where he taught his apprentices all those years ago, and which Selina now seemed to be planning to be her main work surface.  Now, he opened the box and began to unpack lots of little tealights in decorative glass jars.

“What are they?” Selina asked, tentatively stepping forward.

“Lights!”  Julian lifted two out of the box, one in each hand, with a flourish.  He smiled broadly as he held them out to her.  “Altheia put a little bit of magic into them,” he added as she took them from him, looking at him as if she was doing something wrong.  “They’re like little oil lamps, but they don’t flicker and oil won’t ever need replacing.  Light them with matches like any other lamp, and they won’t go out until you blow them out..  There should be enough here to line the walls, I think.  Yes, look, we can have five along this wall, and another over there…”

He scooped up an armful of the small jars and went around the room, stooping to place them at regular intervals and getting down on his knees to slide one under the table.  He got back up on his feet and put his hands on his hips as he looked at Selina’s bemused expression.  

“I don’t understand,” she said quietly, finding her voice.

“They’re to keep them away.”

Selina’s ice-blue eyes widened in disbelief and shock.  And then shone with tears.  Eventually she whispered,

“Thank you.”

Julian smiled.  He still had no idea what she meant by ‘them’, though it was more than likely that ‘they’ were shadowy figments of a troubled mind, but he’d fill the room with tealights if it made her feel safe.

Selina held the two lights close to her chest, and then set them carefully on the table before reaching out and taking both of Julian’s hands in hers.  As if she wanted to speak, but didn’t have the words, instead she simply squeezed his fingers.  And then she smiled up at him.  

“I’ve got something for you, too.”

Now it was Julian’s turn to be wide-eyed.  “You have?”

She nodded and tugged on his coat sleeve to lead him to the table under the window that overlooked the street.  He saw then that it had a book stand in the centre, quills and ink wells of different colours laid out in a tray next to it, a stack of loose papers, and a leather-bound pocket notebook.  There were two stools tucked under the table.

“I thought you could put your book here so you have more light,” she told him.  “And… and this…” 

She picked up the small notebook and held it towards him.  When she didn’t say anything further, Julian took it from her.  The spine was soft but the binding was tight and neat, and embossed on the front was a golden compass rose with an eight-pointed star.  Julian ran a finger over the star, took a breath to speak, but couldn’t find words.  He turned his eyes back to Selina; she stood with her hands clasped in front of her, suddenly seeming nervous.

“Is, er…”  He cleared his throat.  “Is… is this for me?”

He realised how stupid that sounded, because it obviously was for him, but it made Selina giggle and broke her nervousness. 

“Of course it’s for you, Doctor.  I thought that you could keep your most important spells in here so you can carry it around with you.”

“First of all, you’re not supposed to call me ‘doctor’.  And second of all… My spells ?” Julian spluttered on a laugh, because the idea of him carrying a book of spells - his spells, no less - still seemed an entirely ridiculous concept.  

“I’m sorry, don’t you like it?  I just thought…”

“I do!” Julian said hurriedly, and he smiled.  “I was just surprised.  And, to tell you the truth, I still er…”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “Well, I don’t…  these spells , they…”

Selina stepped closer and peered up at him, smiling.  “Maybe once you write them out, in your own way, they’ll start to feel real.”

Julian blinked in surprise, then looked down at the notebook.  The compass rose was much like the one on the spyglass that Altheia had given him.

“Mm.  Well now, let’s see…”  He opened up his coat and tucked the notebook into the big inside pocket, and grinned at Selina.  “Look at that!  A perfect fit!”  He smiled again, warmly.  That odd feeling of guilt welled up in him, the familiar sense of shame at accepting a gift, as if somehow he was accepting something he shouldn’t, something he didn’t deserve.  But Selina’s eyes were still wide, nervous, expectant, and he pushed those old feelings down, replaced by simple gratitude.  “I love it, it’s beautiful.  Thank you.”

Selina smiled shyly, her ashen cheeks showing a touch of colour for the first time.  

"No, thank you .  For…"  She gestured to all her apparatus.  "All of this."

Julian smiled, and then his gaze wandered to his old office door across the other side of the room.  He pulled at his lip as he thought.  He knew he shouldn't.  He knew what would happen if he went into that office.  But there were so many memories there, so much that he and Altheia had done together over such a long period of time.  If he could endure the onslaught for long enough then maybe, just maybe , something might break through.

"You know, we could, er… the book, all of this…" He held out his arm in an expansive gesture over the table, then pointed to the door and cleared his throat.  "It's a lovely big desk in the office, you know, and that would give you back this table for your work, you could fit an entire distillation…"

His voice trailed off and he flushed under Selina's suddenly stern gaze.  To make her point, she put herself between Julian and the door.

"No," she said.  "It'll just make you ill, and there's no need."

Julian nodded meekly.  The temptation to ignore her and go into the office anyway was great, and it was only the thought of not wanting her to see him like that which stopped him.  Still, it was with a strong reluctance that he turned away.

Chapter Text

Altheia was surprised to find a throng of people in Nadia’s reception room, most holding flutes of champagne and delicate canapes as they talked in a low hum amongst themselves.  Nadia seemed to be holding some kind of drinks reception for what appeared to be mostly nobles, but not all were wearing finery in the Vesuvian style.  She recognised representatives from Prakra and Zadith, but there were many she didn’t recognise, and some that didn’t seem to be wearing a typical noble’s finery - their clothing was nice , but with less silks and shimmers.

As she made her way around the edge of the room, she wished again that she’d changed her clothes.  Her favoured black leggings, boots, shirt and crimson coat weren’t up to the standards of the aristocracy, but would certainly have been slightly less out of place than her shopkeeper’s skirt and blouse.

But as she reached the veranda, she was even more surprised to see, standing behind Nadia’s seat, Consul Valerius.  The last she knew, he’d been locked in his chambers while Nadia decided what to do with him, following his role in… well, everything.  His dark ombre hair was neatly braided and his clothing was the same as he’d worn before, an elegant beige robe with gold trim and a dark shawl, but the golden ram’s head brooch was missing.  So, too, was the wine glass that he’d previously never been without.

He looked up as Altheia approached, eyeing her coolly but a little warily.  His gaze slid down her outfit and then returned to her eyes, the faintest curl of disdain on his mouth.  Nadia looked up from her seat, and her garnet red eyes widened a little in surprise before a warm smile pulled at her maroon painted lips.  She was dressed in an elegant violet and sky blue robe, a golden corset cinching in her waist, and her violet hair was adorned with delicate golden pins and pearls.  Her smile faltered slightly as she caught sight of Altheia’s outfit and, probably, the look in her eyes, but she finished her conversation with the noble sitting before her, thanked them as they left, and then gestured towards the seat they’d vacated.

“I know what you’re going to ask,” she said, eyebrows arched as she took a sip from a champagne flute - which Altheia knew contained simple grape juice.  As she set the glass down, she continued, “I’ve decided to improve the city’s aqueduct system.  To do that, I need engineers and the like, and to pay them I need funds. To acquire funds I need to entertain those who have money.”  A flick of her slender hand indicated the people milling in the room the other side of the glass door, and she gave a long-suffering sigh before the smile returned.  “Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you.  What about…?”  Altheia nodded to the Consul.

“Valerius was once my most trusted advisor,” Nadia said coolly.  “He might have failed at running Vesuvia during my absence…”  At that, Valerius noticeably bristled, but only for a moment.  “...but he knows the city and its people.”

“I see.”  Altheia narrowed her eyes at Valerius.  The other courtiers had all gone, one way or another, but Valerius seemed not to have succumbed to becoming a demon as they had.  But that didn’t mean she trusted him.  Aside from anything else, he was the reason that Julian had fled Vesuvia with a murderer’s brand on his hand.

She turned back to Nadia.  “Can I talk to you?  Privately?”

Nadia seemed surprised, but she nodded and asked Valerius to leave them.  He gave Altheia another disapproving glare before closing the door behind him.

“I’m sorry, Altheia, but I have to ask - why are you dressed like that?”

Altheia sighed.  “I tried to open the shop.  This is what I used to wear as shopkeep.”

“Oh yes, Portia did say she was helping you with the opening today.  I have to say, black and red suits you much better.”

Altheia managed a half smile before taking a deep breath to ask what she’d come here for.

“Nadia, I need to know what happened between Julian and Asra during the Plague.”

The Countess straightened slightly.  “What do you mean?”

“I know they were together somehow.  I know it didn’t end well.  But I need to know more.”

Nadia’s delicate eyebrows came closer together in a slight frown.  “Can’t you ask them?  It’s more their place to say than mine.”

“True.  I could.  But I want to hear it from you.”

Nadia blinked slowly.  “Are you sure?”

Suddenly, Altheia wasn’t sure at all.  But she nodded anyway.

Nadia took a moment to look away, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought.  Then, resting her hands on her knees, she looked back.

“I don’t know everything,” she said, her voice steady.  “I don’t know how or when it started.  I do know that when Julian sent his last apprentice away, and was alone, he… deteriorated. I don’t know everything he did in the dungeons, but I do know how Valdemar was.”  She visibly shuddered.  “And treating Lucio was… difficult to say the least.”

Altheia swallowed thickly, her heart hurting for him.  She nodded for Nadia to continue.

“I barely noticed Asra at first, until he started accompanying Julian to bring me the fruits of their research.  I noticed a closeness between them.  They were good friends, I think, for a while.  Banter, jokes that only they understood, that sort of thing.  They were good for each other.  Asra was hurting, deeply, I knew that much.  He…”  She looked down with a soft sigh.  “He told me he’d lost someone very dear to him.”

“Me.”  Altheia’s voice was a choked whisper.

“Mmm.  So it seems.”  Nadia took a deep breath before her gaze returned to Altheia’s.  “After a while, I could tell Julian’s feelings had changed.  He…  Are you sure you want to know?”

Altheia nodded.  She really didn’t want to at all, but she needed to.

“He was pining.  He told me he was confused, that he hurt, but didn’t know why.  And he felt as if he’d known Asra for years.  For his part, Asra blew hot and cold.  He liked the attention, and he did have feelings for Julian, but Julian was… intense.”

Altheia huffed a laugh - she could well imagine.  Julian was nothing if not intense.

“Julian had a key,” Altheia said, her voice hoarse.  “To the shop.  He told me it was for…”  

She couldn’t continue, but Nadia nodded in understanding.  She poured herself another drink from a crystal decanter, and poured one for Altheia, too.

“Certainly, the relationship became… physical.  I don’t know exactly how or when, but things took a darker turn.  Asra’s research turned to blood magic, and he… well, I don’t know the detail, but let’s just say Julian helped him with that.”

Altheia scrunched her eyes closed.  “I don’t think I need the detail.”

“After that, it gets a bit hazy.  The more Julian wanted, the further Asra pushed him away.  And then Julian distanced himself, spent more and more time in the dungeon, and then Lucio…”  Nadia closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with circular motions of her fingertips.  Altheia recognised it as the start of one of Nadia’s migraines, and shook her head.  She knew the rest.

“It’s alright.  I think I know all I need to.  Thank you.”

She chugged back the glass of champagne like it was a cheap Salty Bitter.  She didn’t know what she’d expected to hear from Nadia, or how she’d expected to feel.  It wasn’t really more than what she already knew.  But it hurt.

Now she was sure of how Asra and Julian had hurt in the past.  Now she needed to see for herself the conclusion that Julian had come to about the present.  She knew, despite sealing it away like a djinn in a bottle, where the only wish it could grant if she released it was the pain of the truth.  It couldn't stay bottled forever.

As Altheia got to her feet, Nadia stood and clasped her hand.  

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”  She took a deep breath, shoving her tears and all her emotion as far down as she could.  But she couldn’t quite seal them up like she had before.  “Is Nazali still here?”

Nadia nodded as she withdrew her hand.  “As far as I know.  The last I saw they were heading to the storeroom.”

Altheia thanked Nadia again and navigated her way through the crowd and back out into the cool silence of the corridor.  She pressed her forehead to a wall and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths and biting back her tears.  Julian hurting, pining and pursuing; Asra grieving and researching blood magic… their friendship becoming more, then something else , something that hurt … it was all too much.

But she held it back.  Crying would do her no good.  Nor would screaming and kicking the wall, nor would confronting Julian or Asra - not that she could confront him even if she wanted to, the master of evasion of difficult emotions.

With one more long draw of the cool, faintly perfumed air, Altheia hurried away, asking servants for directions to the storerooms.  Nazali was still there when she entered, bent over a pestle and mortar on a large table as they ground up some kind of herb, burlap bags and jars and glass vials laid neatly on the table as they glanced at a notebook laying open to the side of them. 

They looked up in surprise as Altheia approached, then smiled broadly.

“Altheia!  What are you doing here?”

“I need a favour.”  Her curiosity got the better of her as she peered at the paraphernalia laid out on the table.  “What’s this?”

“Seeing as the cure to Julian’s ailment seems to be beyond my area of expertise, I’ve been looking for medicines to ease the symptoms.”  They gestured to one of the larger vials.  “I’ve already made some, but with this I should be able to make enough to last several weeks.”

“Good timing,” Altheia said, as she slid onto the stool opposite Nazali. “He’s running low.”

“Is he?”  Nazali looked at Altheia in shock, then tried to temper that reaction by clearing their throat and looking back down at their mortar.  “I mustn’t have made as much as I thought I did.”

“Or he’s been using it more than you thought he would.”

Altheia’s voice was toneless, and she fixed Julian’s former-mentor’s face with a look in her eye and the slightest lift to one eyebrow that commanded honesty.

Nazali hesitated, then gave the slightest nod.  “I made enough for one drop a day.”  They smiled suddenly.  “But this ?  This is more refined.  And more effective, I hope.”

“He shouldn’t need anything more effective though, should he?”

Now it was the doctor’s turn for a stern gaze, but one that Altheia could imagine they turned on a stubborn patient.

“No, he shouldn’t.  But he does.”  

The response surprised Altheia into blinking before looking away with a nod. 

Once they were satisfied that they’d ground a fine enough powder, they spooned it into a glass jar containing some kind of clear liquid, turning it effervescent with tiny saffron-gold bubbles.  Altheia watched in fascination, then looked up as Nazali straightened the rust-coloured scarf around their head, and leaned on both hands on the table.

“So!  While I’m waiting for that to settle, what can I do for you?”

Altheia’s mouth twisted as she thought, one more time, about whether she really wanted to do this.  Resolving herself to it, she turned her eyes back to Julian’s former mentor.

“I need to see his journal.  Julian’s notebook, the one he gave to you, where he recorded his symptoms.”

Nazali leaned back and their smile fell.  

“I don’t think I can,” they said falteringly.  “It was given to me in confidence.”

“But it’s about me, isn’t it?”  When Nazali didn’t answer, Altheia leaned forward onto the table and pressed, “Isn’t it?”

“Partly,” they finally admitted.

“He concluded that it was my fault, didn’t he?”

Altheia’s voice was toneless; it was the only way she could hold herself together.

"Not your fault," Nazali said, clearly choosing their words carefully.  

"How did he word it, then?" Altheia said bitterly.  "I was the cause?"

Nazali reluctantly nodded.

“Yes.  But we know-”

“Not the spell.  I mean… that it was being close to me that made him ill.  First it was just the places of significance from our past.  And then it progressed.  The more like myself from back then I became, the worse he got.  He knew.  And he stayed close to me anyway.”

“Altheia…”

“Every time he put his hand on my heart, and mine over his,” Altheia said, her voice bitter and trembling, “there was our bond, and there was his pain.”

“I don’t think it’s quite like that.”

“It’s exactly like that.”  Altheia held out her hand.  “Please give it to me.  I need to see it, in his own writing.”

“If you can read his writing,” Nazali quipped, but it was half-hearted and their feeble attempt at a smile quickly dropped.  “Altheia, please don’t.”

“Give it to me.”

Nazali looked at her a moment longer, as if hoping she’d change her mind.  Then with a resigned sigh, they reached into their satchel hanging from a hook on the wall behind them, and took out the journal.  They took a breath to speak, perhaps one more attempt to dissuade her, but her eyes were sea-green ice and steel.

“Will you give this to Julian for me, please?”  They handed Altheia the jar, where the liquid had now settled to a cream colour.  “He can refill the small vial he’s got to administer it.”

Altheia nodded and dropped the jar into her bag.

“Thank you.  And thank you for this.”

Altheia tapped the book and turned to leave.  But as soon as she turned away, Nazali seemed to change their mind about giving her the journal, and hurried around the table.

“Altheia, listen, I really don’t think it’s like that, he was experimenting, he-”

Altheia barked a bitter laugh.  “Experimenting?  Like that makes it better!”

She ran.  Nazali picked up pace after her, calling her name, but Altheia was faster, and as she rounded a corner in the corridor outside the storeroom she reached out with her magic, knowing that there must be a hidden servant’s passage here.  She was right - behind a drape between two marble pillars next to the wall, a panel needed only a light touch to swing open, and it closed behind her as she darted in.

Leaning back on the wall, she listened for Nazali’s footsteps hurry past.  With a sigh of relief and something akin to anger, and then a whimper of pain, she cast a small orb of light, and with trembling hands opened the book.

Prognosis: Uncertain

“Birthwort?  Are you sure?”

“Yes!  Look…”

Selina pushed her book of alchemy symbols next to Julian’s book of stars and stories - and spells , apparently - and pointed between a symbol on her page, and one on his, in the circle around the constellation of Valetia.

“See?”

“Oh, yes!  You’re right, it is.  Of course you’re right.  I need my sight testing, I think.”

With a rueful smile, Julian noted the symbol in the notebook that Selina had given him.  He’d decided to write out the symbols and their correspondences, but not the activators.  The last thing he wanted was to accidentally jumble up the words in his book, turn his table topsy turvy or his coat inside out, or anything else like his making the spyglass show everything upside down.  Proof if proof were needed that he was certainly no magician, despite Altheia’s insistence that he could use magic.  Well, she was right to a degree - he could.  He just couldn’t do it properly.  Which was the story of his life, really.

“And this one, look!”  Selina drew his attention back to the page as she excitedly flipped back, to the constellation of Valetia.  “Malachite, here…”  She flipped back again to Scorpius, where the star Antares, the red heart of the scorpion, had been circled.

“Hang on, give me a minute…”  Julian hurriedly scribbled in his notebook, irritably sweeping back the forelock of hair that fell over his right eye.  He sat back, blinking at the page.  “Well that… that’s nearly all of them.”

He couldn't do magic properly - yet.  The story of his life wasn't a fixed course, and he could alter it with symbols and sigils, stars and... and spells, it seemed.

“All the alchemical ones, anyway.”  Selina gently closed her book.  “Would Altheia know the magical ones?”

Julian rubbed the back of his neck; it was sore from bending over the books for so long.  “I don’t think so.  She told me she doesn’t usually use sigils.”

“Asra, maybe?  Or his parents?”

“Hmm.  Maybe.”

Julian didn’t relish the prospect of asking Asra for help - if he ever even came back.  And he’d barely spoken to Aisha or Salim, but Altheia had.  Maybe she could introduce them properly.

The door to the ward was flung open suddenly and Theo barrelled through, dragging someone behind him.  

“It’s Mmmiss, it’s Miss, Miss Theia!” he declared excitedly, a broad smile across his face.

Julian couldn’t help but smile, first at the boy’s excitement, and then at the fact that Altheia was there - and then a little more, when he saw what Altheia was wearing.  He sensed Selina tense beside him, but she said nothing, just rose smoothly beside him.

He went to Altheia, held her shoulders and bent to kiss her cheek before holding her at arm’s length and looking her up and down.

“Well, well, back as the shopkeep I first knew,” he said with a teasing grin.  But he faltered as he noticed the tension in her, the tight-lipped smile.  “Are you, er… are you alright?”

“I’m not a shopkeeper anymore,” she said quietly, her voice tight and devoid of emotion - uncharacteristically so.  “I wanted to speak to Selina, actually.”

“Oh!”  Julian’s voice registered surprise, but didn’t betray the slight pang of hurt.  “I see.  Of course.  Well then, let me just ah, I’ll um, I’ll get out of your way.”

As he spoke, he turned to reach for his coat, slung over the back of the chair.  He half expected Altheia to say that actually he didn’t need to go, he could stay, she’d talk to Selina with him there or perhaps in the other room with Theo.  But she didn’t, instead regarding him with a gaze that carried just the faintest hint of… of something under the shimmering surface of their sea-green depths.  Sorrow, maybe?  But it vanished with a blink.

He cleared his throat and forced a smile.  “I’ll get us some dinner, hmm?  What do you fancy?”

She might have made a joke about how she fancied him , or fancied something she’d like to do with him - even if just in innuendo, or silently implied behind a smirk and that delicious quirk of her eyebrow he loved so much.  But all she said was,

“I don’t mind.  You can choose.”

He stared at her a moment longer, then with a suddenly worried slope to his brow, he asked,

“I’ll see you at… at home?”

“Your place.”

Not home.  His place.

Julian walked past her, thought about kissing her, then thought better of it.  Instead, he smiled at Theo and gestured with a tilt of his head towards the door.

“Come on, trouble.  You must be hungry after all that work with the leeches.”

With one last look at Altheia, he left.

Altheia nearly dropped onto Julian’s chair at the desk after he’d gone, breathing heavily to hold back her tears and leaning forward onto the desk, her head hanging low.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Selina pull back the other chair and tentatively perch on the edge of it, facing her.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

"I don't know.  I really don't."

Altheia gave a wry smile and turned her head to face Selina.  The woman who had once been a close friend was dainty, delicate, and haunted, and sat now with a straight back and hands in her lap, tense as if she would rather be hiding, and might flee at any moment.

“You know, you remind me of a bird,” Altheia said quietly.  

“I do?”  Selina sat back slightly, surprised.

“Mmm.  A nightingale, I think.  Do you sing?”

“I… I used to.”  She squirmed as if embarrassed.  “A little.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Well, I… I had no one to sing for.”

Altheia bit her lip and looked away.  “The Plague took your family, didn’t it?  I’m sorry.”

“It took Julian, too.”  Hesitantly, bravely , Selina reached along the desk and touched the back of Altheia’s hand with dainty fingertips.  “And you.”

Altheia nodded, swallowing back more tears.  She looked at Selina’s hand, more bone and sinew than flesh, and skin so pale it was almost translucent, and then took her fingers in her own hand, curling her own fingers around Selina’s.  

Selina tensed, made the slightest squeak of surprise behind her closed lips, but then relaxed.

“What did you want to talk about?”

Before she had chance to think, to change her mind, Altheia launched into her question.  “What was I like?  Before , I mean.  When we worked together.”

Selina didn’t seem surprised at the question - she’d likely been expecting it for some time.  A ghost of a smile touched her pale pink lips.

“Wonderful,” she said.  “Just… wonderful.  You were kind, and thoughtful, you always had time for anyone who had a problem to talk about.”  Her smile grew.  “And funny!  You had the most wicked sense of humour and sarcastic wit.  Not everyone understood it, mind, but I loved you for it.  So did… so did Julian.”

Her gaze, part sorrowful, part uncertain that she could speak about Julian, met Altheia’s.  Receiving only a smile in response, she continued.

“And you were strong, too.  Not physically, but you could bear the burden of others.  You were there for me when… when my parents died.  You helped with my workload when I was overburdened.  And Julian’s, too, even after he…”

Her voice trailed off but her mouth remained slightly open, as if the words were stuck.  Altheia frowned slightly.

“Even after he what?”

But even as she spoke, she knew.  The dismissal paper in her file in Julian’s office.

“After he…”  Selina’s voice was little more than a whisper over dry leaves.  “He sent you away.”

She’d known it was coming, but to hear it was like a punch to the gut.  It hurt and took her breath.

“But you came back!” Selina hurried on.  “For Heartsong.  You came back and he couldn't let you go again, and you spent the night.  And, well…”

A dusky pink of embarrassment touched her cheeks, and Altheia smiled that she didn’t have to go on.  But the ache of the gut punch became a flutter that rose to her chest, to her heart, to that place where her bond to Julian was tethered by their vows.

“We made a promise, didn’t we?”

“You did!”  Selina brightened, seeming relieved.  “Written on the back of a piece of note paper and tied with a used ribbon.”  They both laughed at that.  They both sniffed back tears.  “But it was as good as a marriage contract.”

Altheia took back her hand to wipe her eyes before the tears caught in her bottom lashes could spill.

“We found it,” she said quietly.  “That’s how we knew for sure…”  She took a deep, shuddering breath.  “But he was sent to the Lazaret, wasn’t he?”

Selina nodded, her face falling.  “Yes, for a while.  Once a week he’d come back for a night’s rest, and you’d always be there at the dock to meet him.  And then the Quaestor called him to the research facility at the palace.  When it was in the library, you were with him.  But Julian wouldn’t let you into the dungeon.”

“So I made a secret portal in his office.”  Altheia smiled, almost fondly, at the thought of her own stubbornness and refusal to stay away.

“He needed you,” Selina said softly.  “Not just then, but always.  When you first arrived at the clinic, it was like… you just… you just fit.  I’d seen him with other people before, but with you it wasn’t just… you got him to trust you, you saw him, not just his looks and charm, but more, the parts that he hid, and he trusted you and he opened up to you.  I’d never seen that.”

She paused with a hiccup; Altheia wiped her eyes.  It wasn’t surprising, considering Julian’s past and all that he’d been through, how he’d never settled.  What was it he’d said?  I’ve never shared my life with someone before.  I’ve never had a life to share .  

“I saw how he changed,” Selina continued after gathering herself.  “You bounced ideas and workload between each other as easily as you bounced banter and… and visible love, and… and you were so, so good together.  You held him up, you kept his head above water… no, it was more, you kept him safe, you… he gave you stability and all of himself, he was brighter and you…"

She broke off with a sob, but before Altheia could speak Selina reached over and held both her hands, speaking almost with an urgency.

“I loved you, Theia.  And I loved Julian.  Not in that way, but he… he was a mentor, and almost… almost a father, especially after I lost mine, and you were… my best friend, a big sister, the both of you were all I had…”

Altheia pulled her head into her shoulder as she broke down and wept, rested her cheek on feather-soft hair, and scrunched her eyes closed.  She almost wanted to apologise, but it was futile, it meant nothing.

“We’re here now, little nightingale,” she said as soothingly as she could manage.  “I’m here.”

Selina made a sound into Altheia’s shoulder that was part-sob, part-laugh.

“You are.  You are.  And you’re you, not one of them .”

Altheia took her shoulders and gently held her back far enough so she could look into her ice blue eyes, at the fear and pain and hope .  She gently tucked a feathery wisp of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Who did you think I was?”

A shiver ran through Selina's whole body.  She glanced furtively around the room, to the corners and the edges, as if someone could be hiding there.  Tracking her darting eyes, Altheia noticed the little tealights she'd helped Julian to make, set apart at such little distance that there was not the slightest shadow.  

Eventually, Selina turned back, her eyes wide and verging on frightened.

"I don't know what they are," she said, her voice not much more than a hiss.  "They're just… they're shadows.  I made a talisman, with a crystal, and it sends them away."

"And that's what you pressed to my neck?"

Selina nodded.  "Yes.  I didn't know if it would work.  I've never tried it on one that was fully manifested."  She smiled faintly.  "But I should have just spoken to you.  Then I would have known."

Altheia took a deep breath.  She had no idea what to make of any of this.  As if she needed anymore confusion to add to her missing identity.

"What made you think I was one?  Because I'd died?"

"No, no.  They told me to be careful."

Altheia looked down thoughtfully.  It was yet another thing that was infuriatingly vague.  But when all was said and done, it was Selina's problem.  Altheia wasn't one of them.  And whatever they were could wait.  She'd help Selina as much as she could, but… not yet.

She sat back and managed a smile.  Selina blinked and then returned the smile with a sigh of relief.

"I'll help you," she said.  "I'm sure Julian will, too.  But I need to help him first."

"Of course!  And I'll do what I can, too."

"I see you already are."  Altheia nodded to Julian's book and then back behind her, to all the apparatus that Selina had set up. 

"Oh yes!"  Selina seemed relieved to move the subject along, and she smiled brightly.  "We've managed to cross-reference a lot of the symbols for the spell circles."

She held out a notebook towards Altheia, the first two pages already covered in Julian's scrawl.  But one in particular caught her eye.

Malachite, the crystal that he had given her because it was the colour of her eyes, thinking it was only sea glass, written under the heading 'Antares'.

"I think we should be near to finding the solution.  Julian’s put almost all the pieces together," she said, but even as she spoke she had no idea how she felt about that.  Julian was making so much progress, so many discoveries. Did he even need her?

“Oh?”

Selina looked at her with interest bright in her eyes.  Altheia didn’t know how much Selina knew, but to be able to talk about it to someone else felt like a relief.

“There’s a constellation,” she said eventually.  “Called Valetia.  Julian showed me it once, and told me the story.  Valetia was a healer, and she watched over sailors.”  She glanced at Selina’s expression; seeing nothing but interest, she continued, looking away awkwardly but smiling faintly.  “There’s two stars in the ‘belt’ - one he named after me, and the other I named after him.”

Selina gave a fond smile.  “That does sound like something you’d both do.  Go on.”

“So, in this myth, there was a storm at night.  And there was a ship caught up in it.  Valetia couldn’t find the ship in the darkness, until the morning, when she found it dashed upon the rocks.  One hundred sailors had drowned, and Valetia cried a hundred tears, one for each of them.  The Queen of Cups rose up from the sea, gathered the tears and made a pearl, and the pearl became a beacon.  Valetia hooked it to her belt and took her place once more among the stars, and now she’d be better able to see the ships that needed her protection, the brightest star in the constellation, and sailors use it as a guide.”

Selina tilted her head to the side a little, curiosity now clear in her expression.  “But what does this have to do with Julian and his memories?”

“You remember how the spell can only be broken by me, and only at my gate?”  She looked up to see Selina’s nod.  “Well, Julian thinks that maybe the gate is in the Star’s realm.  It’s linked to that story.”  She began ticking things off on her fingers.  “There’s the sea, and stars of course.  The guiding beacon is the lighthouse.  I’m supposed to find the Queen of Cups, and Asra told me that the minor Arcana realms are… are just everywhere .”  She shook her head to dispel her annoyance that everything was so vague .  “So the Cups realm, and the Queen, could be there, too… somewhere.  Julian made all these connections to his book, to water, to the sea and stars, to our bond, to us .  The Star told him to seek and learn and grow, and he is , and he has , and he will .”  She gestured with a wave of her hand to Julian’s book, still open on the desk.  “He has an affinity to The Star, and he’ll get there, I know he will.  And I… I’ve done nothing.”

“That’s not true,” Selina said gently, reaching across the table to squeeze Altheia’s hand.  But Altheia pulled away with a bitter laugh.

“No, you’re right.  I did do something.  I caused this in the first place.”

“No you didn’t.  You did what you had to do, you took his pain.”

“Did I?  Or did I just delay it?”

Selina huffed a laugh.  “How could you possibly have known you’d be resurrected and find him again?”

“He should have been allowed to grieve,” Altheia said, barely above a whisper.  “He and Asra both.”  She wiped her eyes, sniffing.  “All I have to do is find the Queen of Cups.  The realm is everywhere, Asra said, everywhere , and somehow I still can’t find it!”  

“Didn’t you say it’s in the Star’s realm?”

“Yes, but even if it is, I can’t get there.  I tried, and I needed Julian and you, and Korin and Malak and Salim and Aisha, to fucking rescue me!”

“That’s really not-”

Altheia stood up so fast the chair scraped the floor and nearly toppled.  

“There's another way, there must be.  I need to go.”

“Where?”  Selina stood up in alarm, reached out for Altheia but she pulled away.  “Let me come with you.”

Altheia felt the edge of Julian’s journal digging into her ribs through her coat pocket.  She glanced at the office door.

“When he was here,” she began quietly, “did Julian go into the office?”

Selina hesitated before shaking her head.  “No.”  She shrank back under Altheia’s stare and raised eyebrow.  “He… he wanted to.  I stopped him.”  Then she added in a rush, “But it was only to use the desk, he said!  There’s more space there, it’s a bigger desk, and…”

“Then why did you stop him?”

Selina’s gaze dropped to the floor.  She didn’t need to answer.  They both knew.  

“You were like this back then, too,” she said, her voice a breath over dry leaves.  “You could read us.  You always knew.”

Altheia took a deep breath, steeling herself.

“I’ll be alright,” she said, her voice tight.  “I just… need to work through this.  I need some space.”

“Will you talk to Julian?”

Altheia’s lips twisted, trembling.  But before she could answer, there was a knock at the door and Julian’s head, auburn curls tousled by the breeze outside, poked through.

“Sorry, I er… Theo forgot his coat.”

He pointed to the coat hooks behind the door, where Theo’s small coat, in the style of a doctor’s apprentice, hung next to Selina’s cloak.  Then he looked back at Altheia, a hint of panic in his mercury eyes.  “Did you ah… did you need to speak to me?  Because that was impeccable timing, if I do say so myself.”

His words were breezy but did nothing to disguise his worried tone, as he stepped further into the room.

“I’ll take the coat,” Selina said hastily, rushing forwards to snatch her cloak and Theo’s coat from the hooks.  Her gaze flitted from Altheia to Julian and back again.  “You, um.  Yes.  Talk.”

Like a songbird flitting into a bush to escape a cat, Selina darted out of the door.

Julian stood frozen in place, eyes wide to show the white and the crimson surrounding the tempest-greys.  He took a short speaking breath but exhaled it in a rush.  

Altheia couldn’t find her voice.  There was a tear in her heart, and every thought of his pain tore it a little more.  She cleared her throat and reached into her bag - not for the journal, she didn’t yet know what to do with that.  But she took the medicine that Nazali had given her, and held it out. 

“From Nazali,” she said by way of explanation.  “They said it should be more effective than the one you’ve got.”

She resisted saying “the one you’ve almost finished.”

Julian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and stretched out to take the small bottle.  His gloved forefinger brushed hers but she didn’t react.

“You went to the palace?  I thought you were at the shop all day.”

“I was for most of the day,” Altheia said.  She crossed her arms over her chest as if to hug herself, and looked away.  “It felt wrong.  It wasn’t me.  I just don’t know…”  Her eyes shot up again and she blurted out, “I need a little bit of time alone.”

Julian took a half step back, hurt and confusion taking turns to cast shadow over his eyes and pull at his mouth.  

“Wha… what do you… alone?  You mean with… without me?”

Altheia bit her lip hard and nodded.  The crack in his voice tugged at that tear in her heart a little more.

“Not for long.  I just think…  I need to find the Queen of Cups, don’t I?  And you need to do as the Star asked - study and learn and grow.  Don’t you?”

“But that doesn’t mean…”

“It does.  I think it does.”  

“I don’t understand.”  Julian’s voice was hoarse.  “Only this morning, you… we…”

“It’s not forever, it’s not the end,” Altheia said hastily, stepping forward at last and taking up his hands.  Julian gave a sigh of relief but his hands trembled.  “I just need some time.”  I need to know I’m not going to hurt you anymore .

“Alright.  Alright, I… alright.”

Julian nodded, again and again, red curls bouncing over his crimson eye, looking down at Altheia’s hands and squeezing so tight it hurt.  He lifted them to his lips, kissed her knuckles, met her eyes and forced a smile.

“Take as much time as you need.”

His face became tear-blurred.  Blinking rapidly, Altheia stepped toe-to-toe with him, and put her hand over his heart.  He returned the gesture and their bond flared.  The magic that their vows in the Arcana realm had forged, that bound them irrevocably, warm and surging and eddying between them.  She braced herself for his flinch, for his pain, and when it came she held his other hand tightly with hers, until the sigh of relief came.  His forehead pressed against hers, his lips parted and his breath caressed her cheek.

“It might only be one night,” she said, sniffing.  “I don’t know.”

She stepped back; Julian’s hand only lowered reluctantly from her chest.  Both of them blinked as the intensity of their bond faded.

“I’ll walk you home?” he suggested tentatively.  “To… the shop, I mean.  Your home.”

Her home.  That hurt.

She shook her head.  “No.  No, I’ll be fine.”  She looked pointedly at the office door, then back at him.  “Selina told me.  Don’t do it, Julian.”

Before Julian could say anything more, Altheia stretched up on her toes and planted a kiss to the corner of his mouth.  

And then she left.

Chapter Text

The long, dark corridor of the clinic outside of Julian’s office stretched out before her.  At the end, on the left, the back door cracked open.  As she started towards it, a feeling of dread came over her.  The draft was cold, creeping around the back of her neck like an icy tendril, carrying the sounds of voices and screams.  Halfway along the corridor, she changed her mind, decided to go back to the office, to Julian.  She turned.

The back room of the shop stretched out before her, shrouded in inky darkness.  On the other side of the room, past the table, the back door cracked open.  As she started towards it, a feeling of dread overcame her.  The draft was cold, creeping around the back of her neck like an icy tendril, carrying the sounds of voices and screams.  Halfway across the room, just past the table, she changed her mind, decided to go back into the shop, to Asra.  She turned again.

She was on the beach, dark ash stretching out before her, illuminated only by the full moon. She could hear screams, shouts carried on the sea breeze, but the beach was deserted, except for two dark figures, both with their backs to her, both at the edge of the surf, sea foam lapping at their boots.

Julian, his black cloak billowing around him and his auburn curls flailing wildly in the wind. 

Asra, his colourful coat swirling around him and the feather in his hat whipping in the cold gusts of wind.

“Julian!  Asra!”

Her call was swallowed by the wind and her voice was silent.  They started to walk away from her, into the sea.

She tried to run but the sand was like mud, every step was a struggle, she couldn’t get closer.

“Stop!”

It seemed as if they heard her, because they did stop, and they started to turn.  But her foot caught in the sand and she fell; only, it wasn’t sand, and as she struggled to push herself back up, the coarse grains of grey ash scratched her fingers and palms.  On her knees, she looked up. Julian was gone, leaving only his beaked plague mask in the sea foam.  Asra was gone, leaving only his tarot cards whirling and tumbling in the wind.

She scrambled on hands and knees to the mask, and turned it over.  The red, glass discs of eyes stared back up at her.  And then they blinked, and suddenly they weren’t made of glass, but they were his, Julian’s grey eyes with no whites…

The cards fell into the sea foam, all face down except one, and Altheia reached for it.  It was the Magician, except instead of the cunning fox’s head, it was Asra, and as the tide dragged the cards below the surface, Altheia screamed with no voice…

The wind whipped harder, stinging her cheeks and burning her eyes, a tempest snatched her from the ash and foam and pulled her out to sea, the sea, the open sea…

With a gasp, her eyes snapped open.  Under her palms and knees was cold, damp wood, splinters in her fingertips.  A jetty, and as she looked up, across the inky sea, the black silhouette of the Lazaret.  Julian had gone, he’d left her alone and confused.   

But there was Asra, a tiny white-haired figure on the beach, digging into the ash with bloody fingers.  Charred bone and ash.  He scooped it into his hands, waded as far out into the sea as he could, up to his shoulders, holding the ash above the waves.  And then he released it, and the wind picked it up, a swirling, tumbling cloud scattered into the sea.  

It was her.  She knew.  He gave what remained of her body to the sea.

A flash of lightning in the distance drew her gaze, and there was a ship, her ship, and its sails were alight with blue flame and its hull was ice.  It broke up into three parts, the mast toppled but the blaze wasn’t put out by the water, and first sank the bow, then the stern, and there were people climbing onto  the keel as the ship capsized, a hundred sailors who waved and called for help until they, too, slid below the waves and were drowned.

She tried to get to her feet but couldn’t find purchase on the wet wood and she slipped.  But instead of hitting the ground, she was caught on a thick mist rolling in from the bay.  When it settled her gently down, the wood of the jetty was smooth and warm, sunlight kissed her cheeks, the bay was azure and clear.  No, it wasn’t the jetty - it was the deck of a ship.  Her ship, and she was set down on the end of the bowsprit, looking down into the gently lapping waves.  Looking down at her reflection in the clear water, she saw pearls and abalone shells in her hair, and hanging from a necklace between her breasts was her favourite shell, a cream-coloured conch shell with opalescent blue swirls.

She lifted the shell, and a ripple passed over her reflection.  In its wake, the Queen of Cups appeared, ochre eyes watching her with a serenity that warmed her heart, brought her peace.  Sapphire and lavender undulated across her body and back and forth in waves along each of her eight arms, moving languidly in the azure waters, the pearls of her diadem glinting like stars across her bulbous head.  

The voice that came to her was warm, maternal, rich and full.

“When the stars cry,” she said, “the sea replies.  Ice will cut all ties.  In the light of your Sun, listen, listen, hear the sea.”

Altheia reached down, her fingertips skimmed the surface of the water, and the Queen was gone.

Altheia’s eyes came open gently, bringing her out of her dream in peace.  It was still dark.  She was cold.  And her bed was half empty.

When she’d first got back to her flat above the shop, seen Julian’s old coat - the one she’d given him, years ago - hanging on the hook by the door, she’d held it to her face, closed her eyes drawn in a breath and the scent of him, coffee and rum and the sea, a hint of hemp and pine tar.

She’d gone for a bath, taken a breath of the fresh fragrance of his bath salts and shampoo, then firmly sealed the jar and the bottle and used her own.  

A coffee mug and a plate he’d used for breakfast were still in the sink - she washed them.  She plumped up the cushions on the couch, still imprinted with the vague shapes of his arms or back.  

She’d gone to the bedroom, steeled herself against any emotion, and did it well, holding it back as she surveyed the bed - unmade, but neater on her side; the bedspread on Julian’s side was rumpled and half off the bed, his pillow crooked and a quarter down the mattress.  At first she straightened it, put it back where it should be.  After a moment’s thought, she picked it up and held it to her face, pressing her nose deep into it, again drawing in his scent.  

And she’d put it in the bottom of her wardrobe.  Straightened the bedspread, put her pillow in the middle of the bed, where it had always been.

But as she sat on the edge of the bed, on what had been Julian’s side of her bed, her eyes were drawn to the bedside table.  A book he’d picked up from the market and started reading, the corner turned down five pages in.  He’d been telling her about it as they dressed.  It was a romance, she remembered that much.  But she couldn’t remember everything he’d said.  And next to the book was a plate, the remains of biscuits he’d brought for her, a bite taken out of one and put back because it was too sweet, he said.  Crumbs remaining of the shortbread he had eaten, four in the time it took for her to eat just one.  A coffee cup left half full, because it went cold as he made love to her.

And that broke her.  The remains of a moment of domesticity, one that had passed her by, unremarked upon.  

She’d sat there, on the edge of his side of her bed, and she’d wept.  Korin had come, had tried to comfort her.  It hadn’t helped.

You don’t have to do this , she’d said.  Red One is your one.  

He was, she knew.  The one she was bonded to inextricably, and always would be.  He was hers, and she was his, by virtue of vows made on paper before , and by words and touch in the realms, bonded by love and by what amounted to a deal with her in the body of a Major Arcana.

But she was also his pain.  The manifestation of their bond in their magic, their hands over each others hearts, always hurt him before it brought him peace and warmth.  And that was why she lay now, in the centre of her bed, alone but for Korin in the rafters above.

She thought about her dream.  Still too groggy from sleep, the one thing that stood out about above all else was the words “ In the light of your Sun .”  It was Julian, she knew.  Her rising sun, and she his morning star.  But she didn’t deserve his light.  

But in that moment, his light and his warmth were all she could think about, all she craved.  It was selfish, she knew, as she got out of bed and silently dressed.  She heard the rustle of Korin’s feathers and told her she’d be back soon.  

It was selfish, she knew, as she hurried through the silent streets.  To look up at the sky, beautiful this night, to see the stars whose names she'd never know, and to wish for nothing more than to hear his stories of them.  And she found herself at Julian’s house, fumbling in her pocket with trembling hands for her key.

Julian couldn’t sleep.  He’d paced, he’d beaten his wings against the walls, as Mazelinka used to say.  He’d started down the street towards Centre City, decided better of it and went back home again.  He’d gone to the clinic, started to the office, to find the shade of Theia there.  But she’d told him not to.  So instead he’d taken his book and laid it out on his kitchen table, open on the page for Valetia, tracing a fingertip back and forth along the belt between the stars Theia and Ilya.  What a whimsy that had been, how important and cherished it seemed now.  

He was so close to the answers they needed.  But not close enough.  ‘Seek and learn and grow’, The Star had said.  He was, he knew he was.  But something held him back, slowed him down.

Don’t linger at the gates of Temperance for too long.

Yes, that was it.  The Star had warned him, and he hadn't listened.  He didn’t really know what Temperance meant, but he knew he lingered, denied himself his truth.  Refused to accept that Altheia and Asra had been right all along.  That whatever his magic was, he needed to learn it, embrace it, not push it away.

But he’d taken too long, just like he’d taken too long finding a cure for the Plague.  And Altheia suffered, just as she had then.

Now he lay, on his side of his bed.  Her side was exactly as she’d left it, with the dent in the pillow where her head had been, with the fragrance of bergamot, vanilla and sea salt lingering on the bedspread.  He looked up at the ceiling, where her attempt at painting Hydra and Corvus with her magic still lingered, albeit faintly.  

Julian held his hand out, fingers curved as if holding a marble, and looked through the loop of his fingers towards where one of the missing stars should be, at the tail of the water serpent.  He pictured the ceiling in the darkness as the night sky, the missing star as an orb of light between his fingers.  Feeling faintly ridiculous at first, he was about to give up until he felt that stir within his heart, the effervescence that swirled and leapt.  He narrowed his eyes, focussed on it, found himself whispering “ Malen'kaya zvezda, shining bright, light the skies and sea tonight.”  Just as he’d done when Altheia had shown him how to light a lamp.

And there it was, stuttering to life like a tiny supernova.  Getting over his surprise, he focussed, watched the orb grow slightly bigger, and then blew on it like a bubble.  Again, and again.  And then it settled on the ceiling, completing Altheia’s attempt at the constellation.

Julian found himself grinning, delighted with himself.  Seek and learn and grow.   He was, and he had.

But his joy faded quickly, because Altheia wasn’t there to share it with him.  He could only imagine her smile, her praise, her delight.

His ears pricked up at the sound of the key turning in the lock of the front door.  His heart pounded so hard in his chest he could hardly hear above it, as one boot heel, then another, crossed the threshold, as the door clicked quietly shut.  Only one person had his door key.

He didn’t know what he should do.  He wanted to run down the stairs, pull her into his arms and not let her go.  But Altheia was there for a reason, and Julian lay perfectly still and listened.  She must have left something and come back to fetch it.

Then the stairs creaked faintly, so quietly under her careful footsteps that in the day they would have been silent, but in the dead of the night they were just barely audible as Julian held his breath.

The bedroom door was open, and her figure appeared in its frame, a shadow in the dark.  She crept around the bed, to her side.  Julian lay completely still, thoughts rushing through his mind - should he speak?  Pretend to be asleep?  Ask what she was doing there?  Pull her into the bed and beg her to stay?

Moving only his eyes, he looked at her as best as he could.  In the barely-there light from the conjured stars, he watched her undress.  She slipped under the bedspread, the one that she’d bought, the one that was perfect for him, for them.  She lay on her side, facing him.

He dared to turn his head then.  He could barely see her in the darkness.  But the prickle of his own magic, still unsettled from conjuring that orb of light, met with her aura and was soothed.  He didn’t need to see her when he could feel her, her magic, her warmth, her body as she shifted closer.

Julian turned onto his side, facing her.  She just barely touched him, skin to skin the length of their bodies.  Tentatively, her hand came to rest over his heart.  With a grateful whimper, he returned the gesture.  He closed his eyes tight and bit his lip to disguise the pain when it came.  And when it faded, he sighed into her.

They lay for some time like that, palms over hearts and breaths caressing skin.  Eventually, Altheia hummed and withdrew her hand.  When Julian did the same, she slipped her arm around his waist, and he cautiously did the same.  When her reaction was to nuzzle into his chest, he held her tight.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep.  He wanted to savour every moment with her.  But he had two nightmares that night.  He didn’t remember them, but he knew that each time, he’d woken to her soothing coos, strokes of his hair, the gentle scrape of short fingernails up and down his back, grounding him.

The third time he woke, it was morning.  And his star had gone.

Chapter Text

Julian had stirred as Altheia slipped out of bed, just as the sun's halo touched the horizon.  She'd whispered him back to sleep.  Silently she'd dressed and went home.  

She wasn't really sure why she opened the shop, except she had nothing better to do.  And there was no connection to Julian here, at least nothing substantial.  Not like the beach, her favourite sanctuary.

Besides which, Portia seemed to be enjoying herself.  She was a natural saleswoman, picking up from Altheia what each herb, ingredient or crystal could be used for, and using sales patter the likes of which Altheia had heard from the most experienced market traders.

But every time the door opened, Altheia looked up, hoping the fluffy white hair or ostentatious travelling hat of Asra's would poke through, with smiling violet eyes and a broad grin.  She needed her friend.  But then, how could she face him, knowing how she'd hurt him?  So it was probably just as well that the door never did reveal him.

But late in the afternoon, the door opened slowly, hesitantly.  A long leg crossed the threshold, a tall, slender frame stooped, and an eye grey like a sea storm looked warily at her, the other hidden behind a black patch and burnished copper curls.

Altheia took a sharp intake of breath.  Portia, oblivious, smiled at her brother.

"Ilya!  What are you doing here?  Oooh, did you bring lunch?"

She looked at Julian's hands as he sidled in, as if she expected to see him carrying bags of food.

"Ah no, sorry Pasha, I didn't think."  His ears burned red, as if he should have thought to bring lunch.

Portia clicked her tongue and sighed heavily as she got to her feet.

"Fine, I'll go and get something."

"Here, let me pay."

Julian fished around in his coin purse and placed a number of coins in Portia's palm.  She glanced down at them, then raised her eyebrows dubiously at him.

"Doubloons?  Really?"

"Any trader in the South End market will take them," Julian said, as he put his purse back in his pocket.  "Trust me."

"I'm not going all the way to South End for lunch!" Portia said, aghast.

"Please?"

She blustered, then rolled her eyes.  "Oh, I see how it is.  You want me out of the way."

She looked from Julian to Altheia, then picked up her bag and left, calling back over her shoulder, "Make sure you lock the door first!  No one needs to see you going at it."

Altheia couldn't help but smile.  But the smile dropped as she turned back to Julian.

"She doesn't know."

"I see.  I see."  Julian pressed a gloved finger to the counter top as he took a step closer.  "So, um… how are you?"

"I'm fine.  Did you want something?"

Julian blinked at her, then bit his lip, looking away.

"I er, I do, as it happens.  Selina needs some amethyst for something or other."  

"The crystals are over there."

Altheia's voice was as toneless as she could make it.  Julian looked in the direction she pointed, to an open-fronted cabinet on the wall opposite the counter.

"Ah yes!  So I see.  Amethyst is purple, isn't it?"

He took a step forward, then whirled back around.

"Theia, please, I…"

But as his palms lay flat on the counter, he gave a choked cry, eyes scrunched closed, mouth contorted in pain.  Altheia dashed around the counter just in time to catch him as he fell, and she lowered him to the floor. 

She knew what it was.  As he mumbled, grunted in pain and spoke her name, she held his head on her lap as she knelt with him, stroking his hair, rubbing his back.  Sobbing between her soothing coos, her promises that he'd be okay.

When it passed, he straightened, and as he blinked the daze from his eyes it was replaced with fear as he looked at her, touched her face, wiped her tears with a thumb.

"No," she choked out, taking his wrist and moving his hand back.  "I'm sorry, Julian, I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," he said, "it's alright, I'm fine I promise."

Altheia shook her head, got to her feet, took Julian's hands and pulled him up.  

"Go home," she said, her voice hoarse.  "You need rest.  I'll take some amethyst to Selina."

She couldn't bear the look in his eyes, pain and sorrow.  She turned away.  She heard the door close.  And then she spun round and locked it, slamming the bolt home.

Altheia ran up the stairs.  She remembered when she’d got back after Julian had broken up with her, how she’d told Asra, and how, far from offering comfort, he’d bitterly spoken about Julian’s faults as if he knew him, as if he’d been hurt by him.

And he had.  They’d hurt each other.  Because of her.

And Julian was hurting now, again.  Because of her.

And Asra was hiding, hurting, again.  Because of her.

Her room was a watery blur through her tears as she hurried to dress.  Black leggings, white shirt, red sash, black thighboots, crimson coat.  She pulled the ribbon out of her hair and shook it out over her shoulders.  And she breathed a sigh of relief before stuffing her shopkeeper’s garb into the corner at the bottom of her wardrobe.  

And then she went to her dressing table, to her collection there, the things she’d found on the beach.  Some of these things she knew now hadn’t been found by chance.  They were meant for her to find.  The silver chalice was the Queen of Cups.  The elephant figurine was her patron, Judgement.  So was the ivory pendant, and she absently ran her fingertip over its smooth surface where it sat in the hollow of her neck.  The feathers were Korin.  The driftwood, which Julian had identified as being from a ship’s mast, was her ship.  Perhaps literally .  

She picked up the rapier, a gift from Julian, bought because he liked how it looked but maybe, somehow, because something in his subconscious, peeking through the net of the spell she’d trapped his memories behind, knew that she’d carried one before .  

Before she’d died.  Before she’d been resurrected.  Before Asra had deceived everyone and hurt Julian in pursuit of that resurrection.  Before Julian and Asra had hurt each other as Julian sought to fill the gap in his heart he didn’t know had been left behind by Altheia, and as Asra sought to fight his grief.  

After she'd cast the net around Julian's memories.

But as she picked up the rapier, something else caught her eye, and she set it down again.  The conch shell that was her favourite.  Creamy-coloured with a pearlescent blue swirl pattern, she hadn’t seen anything like it before or since.  It couldn’t be coincidence that she'd seen it in her dream with the Queen of Cups.

Julian had told her a story of mermaids dragging men beneath the waves and giving them conch shells that they could use to breathe.  It was just one of his many stories, wasn’t it?  But, looking at the shell now, something about it seemed to ring true.  

She held it to her ear, and a smile touched her lips as she fancied she could hear the sea.  And she hummed,

“ The sea, the sea, the open sea .”

These things were all, in some way or another, her .

And yet she barely understood them.

Altheia put the shell in her inside pocket.  As she reached for the rapier again, her eyes rested on the sea glass that Julian had given her, taking pride of place on the tray of her favourite shells and crystals.  But it wasn’t just sea glass.  It was malachite.  Just as he’d been drawn to the malachite in the shop, so had he been drawn to this, perhaps just because it matched the sea-green of her eyes, perhaps something more.  She couldn’t tell.  But as she held it to the socket beneath the handguard of the rapier, she took a sharp intake of breath as she realised it was an exact fit.  

Holding the rapier handle in her left hand and the malachite in the palm of the other, her thumb shook as she slid back the silver catch over the socket.  She pressed the crystal into the socket with a click, and slid the catch back into place.

Suddenly she was standing on the deck of a ship in the dead of night, the wind so strong it sucked her breath from her lungs.  Something frigid, deadly cold, ice in her blood, surged from the forefront of her brain where all those headaches had started, down her arm, her hand, her fingertips, into the handle of the rapier and turning the elaborate handguard sapphire blue, before coalescing in the malachite.

Altheia blinked her eyes open and she was back in her room, on the floor, the rapier icy cold in her hand, and she dropped it so it hit the floor with a metallic clatter.  She scrambled backwards on hands and heels, staring wide-eyed at the fallen rapier as if it might jump up and cut her throat with shards of ice.  

A kind of white fog hung around the malachite like wisps of clouds over a snowy mountaintop.  Altheia’s hands felt like she’d buried them in ice, and she reached into her coat pockets for her gloves and pulled them on.  It didn’t help much, but it was enough that she could get onto her knees and lean forward, cautiously sliding her hand into the silvery-blue handguard and curling her fingers around the handle.  

It welled up in her, that feeling of her magic, the orbs of water she used in her game with Asra, and she called it forth, tentatively at first, cautiously.  Coalescing droplets of water in the air into liquid orbs that swelled and eddied at her fingertips, impatient for command.  She narrowed her eyes, waiting for her intuition to guide her.  And as the tarot cards had once spoken to her, so now did something else, something from the sea , through the shell in her pocket, to her heart, to the bond she shared with Julian, to the rapier and malachite he’d gifted her.  

The silver loops and swirls of the rapier’s handguard became fluid, reminding her of the way the Star’s water had danced as she’d poured it, as the memories she’d shown to Julian flowed from her jar.  But when she held the blade straight upwards, the water didn’t fall.  Two thin, ribbon-like streams entwined around the narrow blade like twin snakes around a caduceus.  They wound tighter and tighter around the blade, until it seemed to sing to Altheia, to her heart.  

Careful!

A rush of air shifted Altheia’s hair around her neck, and Korin landed on the floor in front of her knees.  

“What’s happening?” Altheia whispered, watching the water and mist that swirled around the blade.

You’re finding your magic, that’s what.

“I’m not doing anything!”

My One, listen to me.   Korin’s voice and stern gaze were that of a patient but long-suffering headmistress.  The sea calls but you’re not ready to answer.  

Altheia tore her gaze from the sword to blink in confusion at Korin.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Focus .

“On what ?”

What do you think?

Altheia huffed her irritation, but turned back to the sword.  And suddenly, clarity came to her.  

A dance of ice and steel.

Listen, listen, hear the sea.

Korin's voice echoed the words of the Queen in Altheia's dream.

She drew in a deep breath, felt the hum of the shell against her chest, the water from her hand, the cold steel of the rapier, the thrumming deep within her, the song of the sea.  She felt Korin, too, a tether, a guide, keeping her steady.  And the ribbons suddenly snapped rigid, became ice, and the blade glowed as it absorbed them like a full moon reflecting on a still ocean.

And it was just a sword.  A well-crafted rapier with a pretty handguard and an embedded malachite.  Except it wasn't just a sword.  Now it was forged with her magic.  Steel and ice.

“Shit.”

Indeed.

Korin ruffled her feathers and then almost seemed to deflate.  She preened one wing, then with a toss of her head looked at Altheia.

You’ll have to name it now.

Altheia frowned.  “Name what?”

The sword.

She huffed a laugh as she got to her feet and pointed the sword out ahead of her, looking along its slender blade with narrowed eyes.

“I’m not naming a sword.”

All the best swords have names.

Altheia gave the crow a sidelong glance as she adjusted the asymmetric sash at her hip.

“Have you been talking to Julian?”

Why would I do that?

“He said the exact same thing.”  

She slipped the rapier back into its scabbard and through her belt hook, and with some tweaking and adjusting she managed to tuck it underneath the sash and against her thigh, keeping it from moving too much as she wore it at her hip.

Red One can be right, sometimes.

“Mmm.  And sometimes, not.”

Altheia’s heart hurt for what she had to do.  But suddenly, it was clear.  The rapier would focus the magic she needed to break the spell - her spell - holding back Julian’s memories.  She just needed to find her gate.  She needed a portal, and where there was a connection to her past, there was a chance.  The portal in the dungeon?  No, she'd tried that one.  Port Tremaire, a place she'd lived?  The Lazaret, the place she'd died?  

But whichever it was, it all led to Valetia's myth, all the ties to the realms of The Star, and now she saw the missing piece.

The ship was her gate.  And she was a hundred drowned sailors.

She couldn't put Julian at risk anymore.

Chapter Text

Julian knew he needed to rest.  His head pounded and the vertigo and nausea didn't want to fade.  But all he could think about was Altheia, the pain in her sea glass eyes as he'd fallen, as she'd held him, and he'd tried not to, he'd tried to fight it.  But it had overpowered him, the deja vu, the almost-memories, of somewhere they'd been intimate, he knew.

He thought about getting some rum.  It was a terrible idea, he knew, like most of his ideas, but it would numb the hurt, at least for a little while.

But just as he got to his feet to go and get it, there was a knock at the door.

It was Altheia.  Julian barely had time to register surprise before she rushed past him, resplendent in crimson and black and gold.  She strode to the floor in front of the fireplace, where once there'd been a rug, and she spun to face him, her red coat swirling and bouncing off her booted calves.

"Theia, wha-"

"It's over," she said, her voice unwavering but her bottom lip trembling.

"What is?"  Julian's heart froze, his mind grew numb with dread.  She couldn't be, she couldn't.

"I can't keep letting you do this!"

Julian tried to swallow the lump in his throat, held his hands up as high as his chest, took a deep breath to keep his voice steady.

"I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have come to the shop, you need space.  I'll send Theo next time, I-"

"If it hadn't happened then, it would have been some other time.  Unless you plan on never visiting the shop."

"I could, I…"

"You need to stop."  Altheia was trying to keep her voice firm but it wavered.  "It's all my fault, all of it."

"No, no…"

"Not just you, not just this, not just now.  The pain you went through back then, you and Asra, both of you.  Using each other, hurting each other, and for what?  Because you had a space in your heart where I had been, and sought Asra to fill it.  You know you wouldn’t have done that if you’d remembered me, if you knew the connection I had with him.  And he never processed his grief properly, because he couldn’t, because he was alone with his guilt.”  

His gut was wrenched. She knows .  

“H-how?”  He could barely get the word out, barely a whisper.

“How do I know?  All the signs were there, Julian!  I just never saw them, or pushed them aside, hoping they’d go away, that it would all go away, or I could seal it away and never think about it, about you and him, and…”

She stopped to choke back tears, to stop herself breaking down.  The anger came back, bitter disappointment, betrayal.

“You never told me.  Neither of you told me.”

It was an effort to raise his voice to be audible, past the racing of his blood in his ears and the twist of nausea in the pit of his stomach.

“I thought… I thought Asra did…”

Altheia snorted a bitter laugh.  “Well, he didn’t!  Even after you broke up with me, and I confided in him, and he warned me away from you… oh but he was wrong about you, so wrong… he never knew you like I do.”  Her voice fell to a quiet whine.  “But even then, even then he never said.  And I never questioned it.”

“He had his reasons, I’m sure…”

“Doesn’t he always,” she spat, snapping back to hurt anger.  “Not that I ever know what they are, not that I ever know anything about him, or his reasons or his feelings, or my self !  And you! ”  She laughed a bitter, mirthless laugh.  “Letting yourself into my shop with the key that Asra gave you for ‘after hours house calls’.”  She turned her face up to the ceiling with an open-mouthed twist of lips.  “Stupid, stupid me didn’t question it.  Stupid, stupid me didn’t push Asra further when he said you were something more , and then something else .  And stupid, stupid me didn’t question your apology to him, what things had you assumed, what did you do wrong?   God I’m such an idiot! ”

Julian’s heart fractured, his arms ached with the effort of holding himself back from pulling her close.

“You’re not an idiot!  We… we were wrong, I’m sorry, I…”

Her eyes shot to his again, suddenly piercing, suddenly angry.  “When he came back you spoke about it, didn’t you?  You must have done.  You agreed not to tell me, didn’t you?  Didn’t you? ”

He had no voice.  He couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat.  He nodded.

But the anger, he suddenly realised then, wasn’t directed at him, or at Asra.  Altheia was angry at herself.

“I don’t blame you,” she continued before he could speak.  “What right do I have to demand honesty when I…”  She put her hands on the top of her head, curled her fingers so they pulled on her hair, face contorted in anguish and despair, and every single one of Julian’s muscles and synapses stung from the need to take her in his arms.  “It was my fault.  Mine.  If you’d remembered, if I hadn’t done what I did, maybe you could have helped each other, comforted each other.  Hell, maybe you would have ended up together in a normal relationship without…”  

“Stop it!  You don’t know what would have happened, and it doesn’t matter, what’s past is past.”

“But it isn’t !  It’s around us, all the time.”

“What are you talking about?”

She looked at him again, eyes tempestuous.

“Why did you throw out the rug?”

Her change in tack surprised him, caught him off balance.  He looked down at the bare patch of floor where the rug had been.

“It was dusty,” he said eventually, airily.  “Too much to clean.  I thought we could go together to-”

“It made you ill, didn’t it?  Every time you stepped on it, that déjà vu and vertigo.”  She fixed her steely gaze on his.  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

He took a breath to speak, to deny it.  Then let the breath out as a soundless sigh, and looked down.  

“You’re not wrong.  But it’s okay now, it’s gone.  I feel fine!”

“Mmm.  Apart from when you’re near me.”

He blinked in surprise, leaning back again.  “What do you mean?”

“Everything is new.  The furniture, the paint on the walls, the utensils in the kitchen.  The bedding.  But I've seen how often you needed your tincture.”

Julian’s jaw slackened, and again he seemed as if he might deny it.  Again, her raised eyebrow stopped him.  “Only a little.”

“You can’t even walk into your own fucking house with me,” Altheia said through gritted teeth and tears.  “Without feeling ill.”

“It’s not like that…”

“Then what is it like?  Tell me.  Tell me, Julian!”

“I don’t care,” he said, his voice wavering.  

“Well I do!  And I’m not letting you do this anymore.”

“What…”

“Hurting yourself.  Chasing the almost-memories.  Fragments of me, of our past.”

“I’m not!”

Altheia got up and strode to her bag.  Julian got to his feet but didn’t move, as Altheia pulled out his journal with a trembling hand.  Clearing her throat, fighting tears, she flipped to the last page he’d written in.

“Here,” she said bitterly, pointing at Julian’s scrawl.  “Here it is.  The result of your experiments .  That it was me all along.”

Julian stuttered as if he would try to deny it, but what could he say with his own words in front of them.  Words that were blurred through his tear-filled eyes.

“I’m so close,” he told her desperately.  “You’re there, I can feel it.  Like I’m underwater, and you’re above the surface, and all I have to do is break through it.”

“But you can’t,” Altheia said, her jaw clenched.  “You can’t, because my spell is holding you back.  “And you’re putting yourself through it on purpose, when you could just swim away.”

“It’s the only piece of us that I have,” he whispered, his eyes glistening.  “Our past.  The thing we had that we sealed with a written promise.”

“Oh?  This written promise?”

She turned, dropped the journal onto the desk and pulled the scroll from the drawer.  She unrolled it and looked at it like she was reading it, though she knew it word for word.

“Theia, don’t.”

“Side by side, always.”  Her voice wavered and cracked.  She turned her eyes up to him again.  “Not ‘chasing our past for pain’.”

Julian’s eyes widened in horror as Altheia’s hands moved to the top edge of the paper, as it started to tear beneath her fingers, and he rushed forward to grab her wrists.  She dropped the paper, and as it fluttered to the floor, she broke.

“I can’t keep seeing you like this!” she sobbed.  “And it’s my fault!  You have a spell, a web, holding your memories back, and it’s hurting you, and it’s my spell but I can’t break it !”

“It won’t be forever!” he insisted.  “We’ll figure this out together.  You and me, together, always!  We’re so close!  The connections are right there, we just have to-”

“No.”  She couldn’t look him in the eye as she wrenched her hands away and stepped back.  “Every time I think we’re a step closer, we fall two steps back. The only way is… I can’t, I have to…”

She couldn’t catch her breath, great gasping heaving of her lungs seemed to take no air, but this was the only way.

Julian felt numb, sick, the room span around him.  He kept waiting to wake up, it must be a nightmare, he’d wake up to her soothing voice, arms around him, hands in his hair.

But he didn’t, and her voice was cracked and her arms were pulled back and her hands were in tightly clenched fists to disguise their trembling.  

His love, his Morning Star, his guide, his Venera , she was… No, she couldn’t, she couldn’t…

“Please.”  His voice was a choked whisper, as he took a step towards her and she responded with a step back.  “Don’t.  You don’t have to.  I’ve got Nazali’s medicine, I can endure it, I can…”

“You shouldn’t have to endure anything!”  She strode to the door, twisting away from the hand he reached towards her.  “I can’t be near you,” she choked out.  “Not until I’ve found my gate and can break the spell that’s hurting you.  And if I can’t…”  Finally, one hand on the door handle, she met his gaze, dark and tear-filled, mouth stricken and twisted, glistening streaks on his cheeks.  “Then I can’t.”

Julian dashed forward as Altheia put her hand on the door handle, tried to hook his hand around the back of her neck, then her shoulders, but she pushed him away.  

“You need me!”  One last gasp, one desperate effort.  “I’ll do as The Star said, I’ll get us there, we’ll find your gate together, together , I promise I promise, I just need time, just a little more…”

For a moment, it seemed that she considered it.  Shuddering breaths wracked her body, were all that broke the silence, broke him , that she wept and she hurt and he couldn’t hold her.  

“No,” she said eventually.  “It shouldn’t have to be you.  I did this.  I need to fix it.  You have your own gate to find."

“Theia don’t, please don’t do this, I love you!  You’re everything to me.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice heavy and trembling with bitter grief.  “Including your pain.”

She opened the door.  Her mind was numb, her chest ached.  She took a deep breath, held it, steeled her resolve, closed herself off from his pleas.  

“Come by the shop tomorrow.”  She could barely speak.  “I’ll leave your things by the back door.  You can leave the key on the table.” 

Julian whined a protest.  “Alteya, please, I’m begging you…”

He took a step closer.  For a moment, looking at his strong arms, long neck and bowed mouth with wet, trembling lips, Altheia imagined holding him, kissing his neck and those lips one last time in goodbye.  But she knew that if she did that, they’d never let each other go.

Instead she turned, choked back a sob as she stepped out into the street, and closed the door on his cries.  A shot of ice from her hand to the lock of the door sealed it shut, not for long, but enough that she could get away before he could open it.

She ran, ran to the only place she knew felt like home , not the shop, not the flat above, none of the places where she felt wrong , the places that had never really been hers.

The beach, the sea.  She waded out until the waves lapped at her knees, at the point of the rapier hanging from her hip.

She screamed.  Fists clenched, eyes closed, she screamed all her pain and despair out into the void, the inky sea.

A breath of wind announced Korin's arrival, and the crow landed gently on her shoulder, running a white lock of Altheia's hair through her beak.

I'm here, my One.

Altheia sobbed, and she wailed.

The sea listened, as it always did, silent and endless, enduring and comforting.  But it wasn't home, not anymore, not without him.  Her ship, her gate, somewhere far below, broken into pieces, nothing remaining but a single piece of driftwood sitting on her dressing table.  

Her tears became one with the same salty water and no Queen rose up to make a pearl of them.  Korin nudged her head affectionately, comfortingly, against her cheek.

She looked up at the waning crescent of the moon, at the millions of stars, recognising merely a handful.  They were Julian's, the navigator, her sun, her guide.  The sea was hers.  Theirs, together.

There was Valetia, her belt, her beacon, the stars to the east and west, Theia and Ilya.  

The wind grew colder, whipped Altheia's white-streaked hair back over her shoulders, picked up the lapels of her coat.  The waves rose slightly higher, white peaks caught the moonlight further out.  Somewhere, a tempest was brewing.

Her hand closed around the hilt of her sword, the leather of her glove creaking.

"Rising Tide," Altheia whispered, more to herself than to her familiar.  "I'll name it Rising Tide."

And she, her real body burnt to ashes and thrown into the Lazaret’s sea, was Valetia's hundred drowned sailors.