Vipersong

10 || Phantoms and Pickpockets

THE RESONANT RINGING of bells woke her. The sound filled the air, ringing clear across the temples and compounds of the Palazzo Rossa. Bleary-eyed, Valentina tossed her quilt aside and swung her legs over the bed. A shroud of morning mist smoked along the surface of the river, ghosting the tips of the gray, choppy waves like tendrils of steam rising to a clouded pewter sky. It would be a fair day, despite the clouds that gathered on the horizon.

Iri sat perched on the outside balcony railing, practically inhaling a mealy worm he had trapped in his beak. Sensing her presence, he glanced up at her and twittered softly as if to say, What? Even spirit birds have to eat.

With an indulgent shake of her head, Valentina slipped from the precious warmth of her woven blankets and padded across the frigid stone floor. A stucco-lined mirror hung above her vanity, the silver glass a rare novelty. She reached to graze a light finger against the perfect, smooth surface. A girl of warm brown skin and wide golden eyes stared back at her. Wisps of brown hair sprung from her tangled braid to curl around her head, sun golden tendrils tumbling with the rest. Aunt Dulcie had kept a fine mirror like this in her dressing room, but Valentina had only caught glimpses of her reflection in broken shards of glass and pond water before. Now, she almost wished she had left it at that.

Hello traitor, the mirror seemed to sing.

She closed her eyes. She preferred to see a windblown reflection of herself in the ripples of moving water, blurred and hazy.

That way she didn't have to look herself in the face.

"Oh, don't do that to yourself." A familiar drawling voice—one she had not heard in a long, long time—spoiled the silence. Like a stone in water, her stomach sank. "Why so much doom and gloom this early in the morning?"

Maybe if she ignored him...

"Wishing me away won't actually make me go away," the voice singsonged, grating on her.

Sighing deeply, Valentina turned away from her reflection to the smirking phantom who leaned against her bedpost. He was tall and slight with mischievous, dancing blue eyes and tousled chestnut hair—a classic trickster.

She folded her arms crossly. "It's been a while, Magnus."

Magnus sketched a florid little bow. "It's good to see you too, damana."

"I haven't missed your colorful commentary."

"You lie poorly, my dear." He flashed her a smile of even white teeth. "I, for one, could do without listening to your boorish thoughts." He sprawled over her bed and propped up his head with one hand. "Such a sad little drab you are."

"You do realize I didn't ask to be pestered this morning, yes?"

Magnus clasped a fist to his chest. "I took the initiative to provide that service unprompted."

"I abhor you."

He let his head loll back on her pillow. "You adore me."

Valentina tore her gaze from the phantom and instead focused on her surroundings for the first time. Her bedroom in the vast estate was small and cramped, with pebbly white walls and wooden beams that slanted horizontally across the ceiling. There were few furnishings except for the basic utilities—two flat wooden beds shoved into corners, opposite the vanity set with a basin of rags and a pitcher of fresh water. A worn wooden chair sat next to the door, and a tiny closet stood next to it, hung with a rack of what appeared to be a number of cotton gowns. A small balcony barely spanning the distance of three feet jutted out dangerously into the open air like a tiny stone peninsula, fenced in by an iron railing wound in ivy.