"Welcome back!" Clelia chirped, stopping in front of Damian with a little bounce.
Behind her big smile, she was trying to hide all the anxiety that had been building up within her since when Rosalba had left. She hoped she'd be able to pull off smoothly what the two of them had been discussing. It was go time, no way to take back what she was going to say from now on, nor any safety measure to give herself more time if she was unsure of what to do next. In other words, she was on her own.
"Someone is in a good mood," Damian commented with a neutral expression. "Did something happen while I was away?"
Clelia shrugged, making a point to still smile wide. "I'm just happy to see you, is that strange?"
She wanted to just sink into the ground and disappear. How was she supposed to keep up this level of conversation while still trying to look him in the eyes? Rosalba had told her to just play it cool, but, now that it was time for her to do so, she had realised she didn't actually know how to do that. Plus, how could she tell if her words were having an effect? She was so focused on what she had just said and what she needed to say next that she wasn't able to focus on reading his expressions at all, like Rosalba had told her to do.
"The house is quieter than usual, today." He pointed out.
Well, can't have three small chaotic balls of energy running around the house when trying to get closer to one another, can we?
"Well, you can't expect the lutin to spend all day with us every day: they still have their own little lives to live."
How did she plan to bring up the next point again? Wait, what even was the next point again? It had seemed like a very simple plan, but now that she had to enact it while actually holding a conversation that went in places she hadn't predicted she couldn't keep it straight in her head, let alone carry it out.
He hung his coat to the coat hanger. "In any case, nice to see you too. I'm going to go and…"
She grabbed his hand with both of hers. She had to stop him from just locking himself into his study again, so, her mind being in a panic, her body acted on its own. His hand was big, at least compared to hers, its shape well defined, and it was smoother than she had imagined it would be.
Her action had successfully stopped him. Now would be a great time for her to say what she needed to say next. Yes, a very nice time to say it. Any moment now, she should just go ahead and say it. Come on, please, she just needed to remember what she was going to say next.
"Can't we…" she hesitantly tried to get out of her mouth, "spend some time together instead?"
"H-huh?" mumbled him, unable to move.
She took a deep breath, looking down at her feet. "For the foreseeable future, this is going to be my home now. I never even met your kind before you and your brother came to visit me at my mother's castle for the first time, and now I'm expected to lead a normal existence among humans, just like that."
She finally mustered the strength needed to meet his gaze, which required her to look way up. "Could you imagine how you would feel if our roles were reversed? If you had to come live with my kind in my family's castle? And if, while you're trying to get used to everything, I just up and ignored you most of the time?"
Those words had not been planned, but saying them caused a twinge of anger to blink into her chest, which caused her to send a "tide" ripple without meaning it. She saw him stagger backwards a little, hit by the emotional wave. For a moment, she felt the need to apologise, but then, even if the anger had already come and gone, she opted for taking a firm stance instead.
"As your new wife," she declared while crossing her arms, "I think it's only reasonable to demand your attention for the rest of the day. What do you say?"
He stared back at her, eyes wide open with… surprise? Fear? Something else entirely? She wasn't quite sure.
"Uuuh, I suppose you're right," he eventually started, softly. "My apologies for my rudeness. Do you have something specific in mind?"
She had to suppress a gasp. It actually worked. "Yes, I do."
***
Without her hat, Damian's wife really did look like any normal girl he'd ever met. Her dress was unusual, in that it was both very elegant and outdated by about half a millennium, but her demeanour lacked the grace needed for her to project the authority that one might expect from such an aristocratic look. The huge round glasses did not help either, nor did the shoulder-length wild head of strawberry-blond hair.
And yet there were moments when she managed to surprise him. The first, of course, had been on the day of their wedding, when she managed to cut short the interaction with Aunt Lucia with just one word. And, more recently, a few minutes prior, when he had felt that same pressure once again, this time strong enough to almost make him lose balance. He found it difficult to reconcile the image of the goofy girl slouching on the armchair in front of him with the intensity that her eyes showed during those brief displays of power.
A glass jug containing some purple-pink concoction, together with two tall glasses filled with the same liquid, sat on the coffee table in between them. He wondered if he was going to have to drink it and, if so, if it was safe. It had to be, considering that she took the content of both glasses from the same source right in front of him, right?
"This," she proudly adjusted her glasses, "is a game that is pretty popular among faerie youth, especially when meeting for the first time. Its purpose is to break the ice, share some things about you with others while they share some things about them in return."
He pointed at the jug with a vague gesture of the hand. "And what does that do?"
"In a tasty meal, there is the substance and there are the spices," she explained. "The things we share with each other are the substance, but this little potion provides the spice. Before I can explain what it does, I'll tell you a little more about how exactly the game works."
"Sure," he nodded, "go ahead."
She sat more upright all of a sudden, almost as if she just remembered to do so. "It's quite simple, really. First, I will ask you a question about yourself, then, after you answer, you'll ask the same question back at me or, if the same question isn't relevant when asked to me, you can ask another question that is similar in nature. For example, if I ask you something about how you're thinking of growing a beard in the future you might ask me about me growing my hair. After that's done, you'll be the one to ask a new question, to which I'll respond and then ask the same or a similar question. And so on and so forth, for as long as we feel like it."
He crossed his leg. "It really is quite simple. One question: what if one asks something the other doesn't want to respond to?"
She joined her hands together, emoting a little with the movement of her thumbs as she spoke. "Actually, a bigger risk is getting so caught up in your questions that you end up asking something you don't want to answer when they return it to you. In any case, you may give a vague or even untruthful answer, but that's where the potion comes in. Before a new question is asked, both take a sip, but it will only take effect after one gives an answer to a question. It will affect the remaining potion within the jar rather than yourself, so you can rest easy. Basically, it will change colour depending on what you're feeling as you answer, the brighter the colour the happier you feel about the answer, and usually it's also a somewhat reliable indicator of your honesty. Depending on other factors, such as if maybe you're joking or are not being entirely honest, the potion might act in unpredictable but harmless and fun ways."
Something about the way she looked back at him felt a little off, but he was unable to pinpoint what exactly. "Alright, sounds pretty fun. Shall we start?"
She grabbed one of the glasses on the table. "Gladly."
He followed her suit. This was a chance, Damian thought. He imagined the first few questions would be on the frivolous side, made to break the ice, but maybe he'd be able to get to learn more about how fairy magic worked as the game moved on. He had to be careful, he didn't want her to think he had ulterior motives after all. His heart sunk at that thought. He did have ulterior motives though. As much as the image of the spider trying to catch him, painted by that strange cat, was still fresh in his mind, the slightly inelegant ways in which she conducted herself, plus the big smiles she gave him, made her seem less like a spider and more like… well, more like just a regular girl. That mere thought caused icy fingers of guilt to tighten their grasp around his chest.
When she sipped from her glass, he did so as well, and the potion tasted a little sweet, almost like a glass of water with a few drops of fresh-squeezed fruit juice. That is to say, for something with that colour, it tasted surprisingly neutral.
"I'm going to ask the first question," Clelia announced, "just to set the tone. What does your favourite book talk about?"
A few different titles flashed in his mind, including The Frenzy of Renald, but he settled on a different one. "My favourite book is about a young man being offered a deal with the devil to save someone precious to him, but he finds a way to outsmart the devil through the study of Alchemy."
The potion turned of a bright red and it swirled inside the jug quickly enough to form a tiny vortex.
She clapped her hands together. "Ah, wonderful reaction: it seems like you truly feel strongly about that book, both because of the bright colour and the strong movement it stirred in the potion. Now you ask me."
He tilted his body and rested his chin on the back of his hand. "Very well. What is your favourite book about?"
She leaned forward, sitting closer to the edge of the armchair. "It's actually a human-written book, if you can believe it. It's about a journey through fantastic distant lands, making all sorts of strange encounters with different people, and how those encounters end up changing the protagonist who, after coming back to his homeland, doesn't fit in anymore."
An almost radiant golden hue took over the potion, and its surface started bubbling up as if it was boiling.
"Let me guess," he pointed at the jug, "that means you too feel very strongly about that book, right?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, it does. And yes, I do. Now we can either discuss a little about our answers, or we can go to the next question. This time, it would be your turn to start asking a new question."
The way her eyes squinted as she almost clapped at him indulging her little game showed a level of delight that was almost contagious.
"I think I'm getting the hang of this," he declared, trying to move on with the game. "I'd like to go to the next question, if that's alright with you."
She took her glass again. "Then, we need to take a new sip."
As they did so, the bubbling on the surface of the potion died down, but the colour didn't change. This time, the taste was a lot stronger, like wild-berries and honey.
He gently placed the glass back on the table, wiping a few rogue droplets off of his upper lip with a finger. "Here I go. Do fairies have to study growing up and, if so, what's your favourite subject?"
It was a mostly innocent question, but, with a weight on his heart, he knew that he asked it in the hopes of opening up chances for later questions about fairy magic.
She leaned back against the armchair again. "That would be two questions, but I guess I can answer. Noble fairies, such as I, usually have a tutor growing up, who takes care of their education. My favourite subject was music, especially ensemble music. I would have wanted to play a flute, but they made me play the harp instead. I never got very good with it, but I still loved making music."
As she spoke, the potion turned sky blue, but tiny bubbles of dark red raised from the bottom of it. Damian didn't pay it too much attention, focused on trying to understand why the feeling of something being off with Clelia's demeanour persisted.
"So," she continued, "did you have to study and, if so, what was your favourite subject?"
"We humans go to school." His back straightened up almost imperceptibly, with a little pride. "My grandfather, who founded this village and the factory at its centre, wanted to make sure that the children of all his workers had an opportunity to be as educated as his own, so even my family goes to that school." His posture lowered perceptibly again, before completing his answer. "My favourite subject was modern sciences, especially Alchemy."
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The blue of the potion turned bright green, but the dark red bubbles burst, creating a swirling mix of the two colours.
"Ooh, those," she pointed at the jug, "are some conflicting feelings. I think you're being truthful, but there's something more to it. Want to talk about it?"
He shrugged, trying to pretend that he didn't feel called out. Still, there was no harm in going over some of it without getting bogged in the details. "It's nothing big. You know how you just told me they didn't want you to play the flute? My family isn't that big on the idea of me studying Alchemy, that's really all there is to it."
"But why, though?" She wondered. "Isn't Alchemy one of the forms of magic that humans have developed to make up for their general lack of innate powers? Wouldn't that make alchemists pretty powerful humans?"
His eyes lit up.
"Yes, you're right in a way, but my family doesn't see it like that. They think that the vast majority of alchemists are dead weights on society, they only recognise the value of the achievements of a very select few of them, and even then they only respect the results of their research, they don't really respect the process. I'm quite sure that, in their mind, those great alchemists stumbled upon something useful by sheer luck while playing with beakers and test tubes. In fact, my older brother once told that the cini system has been made possible more due to the ingenuity of engineers than the alchemist who accidentally discovered the process that makes it possible."
She tilted her head, but the way she did it was a little awkward and, once again, he could only think that something was off with her. "What's the cini system?"
He had to force himself not to get up on his feet when answering. "It's the most brilliant and revolutionary invention to have ever come from a human mind. In the past few decades, our society has seen some very important changes, some brought about from discoveries in the fields of mechanics and engineering, but some others came straight from Alchemy. The cini system is one such invention. Cini is short for Fiumicini, which is the last name of Sandra Fiumicini, the alchemist who discovered the principles behind its working, and also ideated a few different ways to apply such discovery. To explain exactly how it works, I'd need to get technical, but the gist of what it does is as follows: it makes it possible to have books that can change their contents at will."
She furrowed her brows, still not convinced. "Like at random, or…?"
"No, far from it. Each cini book is, how do I say it, connected to a central library of information, called a cini archive. For example, I own the cini book of the Official Alchemical Gazzette, which is connected with an archive that has all kinds of textbooks on the subject, allowing me to read on my cini book anything that is present in the archive. In addition to that, some of the most reputable periodic publications on the subject are also regularly added to the same archive, making it possible for me to keep up with all of them by just owning this one book. Well, to have unlimited, unrestricted access to them I do need to pay an annual fee too."
"So… you can read all books in existence by just owning one?"
"Eh, yes and no. Theoretically, that's how it could work, but in practice there are many different archives that are owned by different entities. You'd need a cini book for each individual archive to access everything on the cini system. Some archives are huge and professionally kept, some others are way smaller and kept by enthusiasts. Some are used to store and share knowledge, some are for local or national news, some are made to share novels and novelettes of a particular genre…"
Clelia chuckled. "You're really passionate about this. You've been very… reserved, since we met. Now, it looks like someone lit a fire in your eyes."
He deflated a little. "Ah, sorry."
"No no," she hurriedly encouraged him, "don't apologise!"
She fiddled with a lock of her wild hair. "It's… nice to see you like this, finally. I was starting to worry that you didn't have feelings. It's great to see you show some at last."
The soft smile on her as she said that last phrase gave him a funny feeling in his stomach. She was… cute. Exactly the same thought he already had about her a few times in the past. She wasn't beautiful, she wasn't alluring, she wasn't seductive. Nothing in her expression, in the little movements of her body, in the light of her chestnut brown eyes seemed to have any intention of coming off as attractive. And yet, that word, "cute", the one he used in his head to describe her… what it meant to him was slowly shifting.
He fake coughed to have an excuse to partially cover his face with his hand.
***
Clelia considered what to ask next, since it was now her turn to set the new question for the both of them. Seeing Damian so enthusiastic about something had been refreshing in a way she hadn't predicted. Her goal, from the start, had been to get to know him a little and close down the distance between the two of them, given that they were going to live together at least for a while. She had set out to build a bridge, but unwittingly found gold in the river. She wondered if she could strike twice. She wondered what question would allow her to do so.
She drank from her glass. A powerful aroma assaulted her throat and the back of her nose before the liquid even touched her tongue. It stung, but it also carried a sweet and full flavour of various fruits and herbs. Clelia barely managed not to cough due to the intensity of that single sip. She didn't comment on it, but that flavour could only mean that the feelings stirred in Damian by the last question were even more intense than he had let on.
He drank too, but gave no outwardly sign of being affected by it as much as she was.
What should she ask about? More on Alchemy? She didn't want to be that direct, plus she was sure there was bound to be something else capable of setting his spirit ablaze again. But what else could possibly elicit a strong reaction from him?
Not wanting to let him wait for too long, she asked the first question willing to show up at the doorstep of her attention. "What is your biggest ambition?"
She immediately regretted it, even before he opened his mouth to respond. That would force her to answer the same question too, and she couldn't be entirely truthful to that, given that her ambition had, as a consequence, abandoning this new life, and him with it.
His smile turned sombre. She wasn't quite sure how she knew that it did, considering that his expression had barely changed, but she could tell that, somehow, she had touched a sore spot.
Damian looked away, silent. Before she could apologise and ask him a different question, he croaked, "I'm not so sure anymore. These past, how many is it now, four days? These past four days have been very weird. I walked in with…" his hands attempted clarifying what he was trying to say through stilted gestures, an effort that was as valiant as it was unsuccessful.
He sighed. "With expectations, let's say. But nothing has shaped up the way I thought it would. Right now, I feel like I have nothing but doubts."
The potion turned clear, with a dark purple cloud sitting flatly at the bottom. He was being truthful, but there was something way deeper he wasn't saying. She had no intention of delving into that further.
He shook his head. "I'm sorry for not giving you a proper answer. And for spoiling the mood. I suppose I should return the question."
She sank deeper into the armchair with a heavy sigh of her own. "You may not believe me, but I feel the same way as you. I've seen many new things in just a few days, and went through many different feelings. It's been overwhelming, to say the least. Despite meeting many new people, I felt weirdly lonely too. I guess forcing you to play this game with me was a way of fighting that loneliness somewhat. I too feel like I have nothing but doubts."
"You didn't force me," he reassured her, "I think it's been very interesting. Stimulating even."
Their eyes locked. She wasn't sure exactly what she saw in his grey irises, but it stirred something in her, something…
Before she could figure it out, he blurted out, "Alright, next question. My turn, right?"
They drank the potion in silence. Its taste barely differed from water this time
"Changing the subject to something more light-hearted. Have you ever had a relationship with a boy before meeting me?"
Now that was a juicy question, Clelia thought. "No, never. There was this one time that I met a cute faerie boy at a spring festival, four or five years ago, and I," she snickered awkwardly, "kinda followed him around all day because I immediately liked him a lot. But that went nowhere because I never met him again afterwards."
A soft orange invaded the potion, like orange juice. "So, dear husband, did you have a relationship with a boy before meeting me?"
To her shock, he burst out laughing.
"What's so funny about that?" She inquired with furrowed eyebrows.
As soon as he saw her expression, his laugh died down in an instant. "Sorry, I thought you were being a bit cheeky by repeating the same question, instead of asking me about any past flings with girls."
"Why is that?"
The repeated and silent opening of his mouth seemed to mean he had no satisfying answer. "Um, is it common among the faerie for boys to…?"
She nodded. "Oh yeah, quite so, in fact."
"Well, let's just say that… it's not very common among humans. In fact, don't ask that to anyone else, some people will get angry."
The potion had now been infected with the bright yellow of his hilarity, but with dark grey bubbles that she wasn't able to interpret.
They drank (its taste was not very intense, but it did tickle a lot in the mouth) and Clelia asked, again without thinking, "So then, since you expected it, did you have a relationship with a girl before meeting me?"
Oh no. Her heart sank. She had warned him against it, she fell for it already, and yet now she did it again, except this time much worse. As soon as she had finished forming the words with her mouth, she realised just how much she didn't want to answer that question herself.
***
Easy enough to answer, Damian thought. After all, since he had expected her to ask that before, he was prepared. "No, never had a relationship with a girl either. I did like a girl quite a lot a couple of years ago, but she chose my older brother instead."
And, when he was done toying with her, he promptly dumped her, after which she understandably wanted nothing more to do with his family. He didn't say that because he didn't want to spoil the mood again.
So, while the potion became of a thick grey blue, he bitterly chuckled, "Well, might as well ask you the same question too. Have you ever had a relationship with a girl before?"
Her head hung low, her hands squeezed the fabric of her skirt tightly enough that he almost feared it starting to rip.
Eventually, she turned away from him and murmured a sorrowful, "Yes."
When she met his gaze again, her face assembled a joyless smile. "Don't worry, when negotiations for our wedding started, it had already been over for… a while."
The potion turned into what seemed like a cloud of dark grey smoke, except with a bloody red core.
Even though she had told him that relationships among boys were not uncommon among the faerie folk, the thought that she would give him a positive answer on this question had never crossed his mind. He didn't know what to think. He definitely didn't expect to see such a reaction from her. Thinking back, he could actually remember regret in her eyes as soon as she had asked the question, but had previously paid no mind to it, too caught up in what he was going to say next. His mind went through a myriad of different questions in a very short time.
So she had no interest in men? No, that wasn't the case, the bright orange on the potion after she admitted having had a crush on a boy before should have meant that she had been truthful, right? So, did that mean she liked both? Was that even an option? How long ago did this relationship she had with another girl happen? How long did it last? Why bringing it up made her so upset? Why discovering it made him feel somewhat anxious? Was he…
Was he feeling jealous about it?
He pushed his glass on the coffee table away from himself. "I think that's enough of this game, for now. Want me to brew some tea?"
Her body visibly relaxed, relieved. "Yes please, I'd like that."
A few minutes later, Damian leaned against the wall next to the kettle on the stove, slowly reaching the boiling temperature. Every word he'd exchanged with Clelia during that game chaotically played back in his mind again and again. He found himself rapidly tapping his foot, but not as a result of boredom. Through the open doors, he could still spot Clelia's profile as she waited on the armchair, if he leaned towards the door jamb, which he occasionally surprised himself doing.
What in the world was happening? Did she put some charm on him? That had to be it, right? There could be no other explanation for that flurry of different and powerful feelings blossoming in him all at once. It had to be that potion she had him drink. The web was closing in on him, it had to be.
Once again, he stole a glance of her profile by peeking over the doorjamb, then retreated back into the kitchen.
He wanted to disappear. He had been served a chance to get some of the information he needed if he wanted to succeed in his plan, but he squandered it. Why in the world had he chosen to ask about her love life instead of asking about her magic? Why did he stop the game instead of finding an excuse to move on and gradually find his way to the topic he was actually interested in?
Both his arms reached for the back of his head, almost as if to defend from a slap aimed at his nape. Why did he say he didn't know what his ambition was anymore? He had meant it too, in the moment, but did he really think that way? Of course he didn't. So much time, energy, so much careful planning had gone into it, he had to still be convinced of it, right? That very morning, a few hours prior, he had been reminded of the original reading of the stars that told him he needed to take the magic from a fairy to achieve his breakthrough. He was still as convinced as ever, right?
His musings were interrupted by the piercing whistle of the water in the kettle starting to boil. He turned off the stove. Of course he was still as convinced as ever. If he thought of what he saw himself as in five years, that picture hadn't changed: he still saw himself contributing to the family business through his achievements in the alchemical field. If he wanted to reach that goal, he needed to push through. Maybe he would change some of the specifics on how to best achieve his goal depending on the circumstances that he found. But, at the end of the day, the goal was still the same, and he was still willing to do almost anything to reach it.
Once he was done brewing, he carried a pair of cups, set them on the table still steaming hot, and sat again in front of Clelia.
Damian's mind raced in the hope of finding a new way to bring up the topic of her magic without sounding suspicious. His thoughts were derailed when his gaze met hers again and she thanked him for the tea with her ditzy little smile. It was then that he finally figured out what had been bothering him for the entirety of the time he spent with her that day.
He furrowed his brows. "Is there something wrong with your glasses?"
She jolted from her slouched position to a perfect upright sitting pose as her eyes widened. "Why would you think that?"
"Something felt weird and a little awkward about the way you looked at me. I just now realised that you've been keeping your face slightly turned to your left, as if you needed to look through your right lens exclusively."
Her shoulders fell, defeated. She took off her glasses and, as soon as they left their position on top of her small nose, a big Y shaped crack appeared on the left lens.
"I apologise deeply for already breaking your gift to me," she mumbled while looking down, "I had to use an illusion to cover it up because I was unable to repair them."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I… didn't know how you'd take it."
He shook his head. "It's true that those things are pretty expensive, but if there is one positive aspect of being born a Neumann is that we're not lacking in wealth. How about we go to the optometrist again? I intended to go to the city tomorrow anyway, you could come with me."
When her chestnut brown eyes met his again, this time without the filter of her glasses, they shivered and shined, wide open with bewildered relief. He felt his cheeks burning and averted his gaze.
With or without those glasses, his wife really was cute.