Page 17 of Violet Thistlewaite Is Not a Villain Anymore
“Perhaps,” Violet said finally, holding back her tears. She selected the biggest bouquet left in her basket, thrusting it at (Regular) Guy. “For the cake,” she choked out. “Thank you.”
And then with a shaky smile at the two merchants, Violet turned tail and fled.
Legacy
The A-frame signboard caught on the cobblestones as Nathaniel dragged it inside. As he shut the curtains in the front windows, he watched from the corner of his eye as the last of the market stalls packed up their wares.
Pru slipped in through the door just before he closed for the night, her violin tucked beneath one arm.
“Hello, brother mine,” she said, singsong, as she removed her hairpins and shook out her mane of black hair, dropping the pins all over his clean counter. “How goes life at the apothecary?”
Nathaniel grunted and turned back to counting money in the strongbox. A busy day like today helped, and with Violet’s rent money it would go a long way toward their bank payment, but he’d have to find a way to boost business if they wanted to restock their supply of burnroot, whose wholesale price had tripled since the last time they needed to purchase it.
“I saw Violet at the market today,” Pru continued, ignoring his bad mood as usual.Pretty things, he thought darkly.Sharp edges.
“I introduced her to a few people—can you believe the cold welcome she’s had? I thought better of everyone.”
He ignored the pointed barb, knowing she included him in that sentiment. “We’ve got every right to be careful,” he said, his eyes still on his work.
“Pah!” Pru tutted, sounding so like their mother for a moment that the invisible band around Nathaniel’s chest tightened a notch. “Quinn said she had a bit of an episode, poor thing—apparently she’s not used to crowds.”
“Quinn’s a busybody,” he muttered. The beekeeper meant well, but part of him would never forget the way everyone already seemed to know his business before he’d even moved home and how she seemed to be at the heart of it. “Why are you listening to her gossip?”
Pru ignored him as though he’d never spoken. “She had a basket of the most gorgeous flowers she was giving away.”
“That’s no way to run a business.”
“I’d call it advertising, I think.”
“And when she uses up everyone’s goodwill and interest before even opening her doors?”
“You really think that will be the case? Besides, it sounds like her problem, not ours.”
“It’s our problem when we’re collecting her rent money.”
Pru tutted again. “I think it’s nice what she’s doing. Dragon’s Rest could use a little brightness. A little hope.”
“Hope doesn’t pay the mortgage.”
His sister leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “When did you get so boring andold, Nat? Listen to yourself!”
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t disparage me for speaking sense when you won’t. I have a right to be concerned and so do our neighbors. I know nothing about her! Is she fit to run a business? Where did she even come from?”And what could she do with that peculiar magic of hers?
“Should have thought of all that before you let me handle leasing the shop,” she quipped.
“Don’t think that thought hasn’t crossed my mind.” Nathaniel threw his hands up. “Why don’t you seem at all worried about this?”
“Nathaniel.” Pru’s tone shifted. She wasn’t playing anymore. “You’ve barely been back a year, and you were gone a long time before that. You’ve seen the shuttered windows of shops and homes, yes, but you weren’t here to watch the people flee. You weren’t here when Harriston’s closed their doors or when practically the entire elven population up and left Dragon’s Rest in the dead of night.”
“You’re forgetting I served with the Queen’s alchemists. I saw—”
“Iknow.” Something in Pru’s voice snapped his head up to look at her. Her playfulness was gone, her eyes as serious as he’d ever seen them. “I know,” she repeated, gently this time. “It hasn’t been easy for you, and you haven’t escaped this life unscathed, even aside from what happened to Mum and Da.”
She put up a hand, stopping him before he could even open his mouth to interrupt.
“But it’s different here. Your experience counts; I would never try to tell you it doesn’t. But ours does too, here in Dragon’s Rest—and it’sallowedto be different from yours. It’s alright if other people deal with it differently.”
Nathaniel pressed his lips together, trying to force the emotions away. This conversation did not fall under his usual confines of neat and tidy, and therein was his problem. He couldn’t organize his grief or guilt in one of his ledgers. He couldn’t make it fit into a formula or balance it with alchemy. Even if he could, he didn’t want to.
