Chapter 26 The Flourish of Fate

26

The Flourish of Fate

HAVING A SECOND completed challenge in her grimoire had proved a temporary joy for Belle. Rather than victory, it now felt as though it only served to highlight the fact that four remained unlit, and only a handful of moons remained. There was still so much to do, to resolve. And she still felt a constant tickle of uncertainty that something else was distinctly and absolutely not right. While she tried to rationalise her situation—Rune was on guard at all hours, Bonnie and Artorius were both highly vigilant to her welfare—it felt as though she were subconsciously picking at a cut that would heal over during the day while she was preoccupied with other stresses but then split open again as she peeled away the worries each night. The most pressing of these being the very real possibility that she was in great, far-reaching danger and therefore bringing everyone close to her into harm's way, too.

Ariadne remained her chief concern. Although standing outside her office with a boom box wasn't entirely out of the question, it should probably be a last resort. While they were technically friends again, the smiles were too polite, the conversation stiff and entirely unlike them. They'd barely said a comfortable word to one another since their fight, their usual secret language swapped for perfunctory comments about heating bills and a leaking tap. Belle had knitted a quick Exsarcio Lavatio fix for the latter to try to do something nice for Ari, even if it was only grout-related. Her determination to try again with another apology was brought to a halt when Ari left a curt note on the fridge (no smiley faces or kisses, which said it all) to inform her that she had headed up north to see her sister. Belle hadn't called, considering that it was perhaps for the best that Ariadne was away for now, kept far from the danger that Belle seemed to be inextricably linked with.

Ariadne being absent, although gut-wrenching, did make things a little smoother for Belle. She could let her magic wander freely, sweet starry flickers of it wafting through the flat at any given moment. Non-wicchefolk barely ever noticed the visible traces of magic, almost always too distracted. Ari had only ever spotted it once or twice over the years, blaming it on standing up too quickly, sunlight reflecting or having something in her eye. But it certainly made life easier for Belle to not have to second-guess her instincts. Alone, it bounced from the lamps, circled the doorways, gathered in the corners. It clung to her in wisps and radiated from each nerve, and it felt freeing to allow it that liberty, a state she had never existed in before. After three weeks of mentorship, dedicated to herself and her potential alone, Belle noticed that, although faint, she had begun to develop the same glimmer of warm gold around herself that she always admired around Bonnie. Rune wore it, too, so had Bronwyn and Morena and every member of Selcouth. Belle's magic was beginning to come alive again.

On her way out the door, the windows aglow with a hazy orange, Belle was wrapping a thick striped scarf around her shoulders when she stopped short. Her flourish potion. She'd forgotten all about it, but the small flask of iridescent treacly mix seemed to wink at her in the light: a brew specifically to bring temporary extra sparkle to one's life, the kind that makes everyone around you simply have to comment on how there's a glow about you. To drag boldness and braveness to the forefront, for confidence and contentment to shine through. A luxurious, indulgent spell for shining and star quality, if only for a little while. Artorius had encouraged her to take it as a celebration when the Alchemy page declared her success, ignoring Belle's suggestion that he keep it instead.

"Absolutely not, my dear. I have been feeling enough of a flourish to my life of late. Two new friends to my name, three if you count the lad, although I'm not sure he'd admit to being my pal," Artorius had told her. "Your sparkling company to look forward to each day, the pleasure of watching your magic blossom so confidently. My luck is already redeemed thrice over."

Not waiting to second-guess herself, Belle unstoppered the bottle, savouring the zingy, sunny flavours of citrus fruits, rhubarb and custard, a fine dusting of aventurine. It fizzed ferociously as she drank. She hoped that it would kick in full throttle before she headed back to Quill Lane and boost her chances of a third glowing grimoire allegory that evening, but maybe it would come in useful before then, too.

LATER, BELLE BEGAN to question whether the ingredients for this one had also been a couple of decades past their best when her shift at Lunar took a turn for the worse. Christopher, ignoring the fact that she was mid-recommendation with a customer, had summoned her to his office.

"You're pushing your luck at the moment, darlin'. Now, I don't want to have to report it to Violet, my suspicions and all." Christopher tapped his pen impatiently against the Filofax on his desk, one leg resting on the other thigh. "But it was out of order to take time off. I'd expect it from the weekend kids, but I thought you knew better than to try and pull one over on me. You left me high and dry. All for some guff story about your mum, who's suddenly, miraculously, fine now, is she? Funny that."

Belle blinked. The man was not normal. "Sorry, can you say that again? I thought for a second you were accusing me of lying about my mum nearly dying."

"I'm not saying that, I'm not, I feel for her, I really do." Christopher threw up his hands in feigned innocence. "I just think it's very convenient that it all kicks off on the days that you knew would leave me stuck here. I break my back doing everything around here while you lot swan in and out as you please. It's like you don't even care about the place."

She was squeezing her fists so tightly that her fingernails stung against the skin of her palms. She could feel the prickles of magic ready to burst, settling into the lines of her hands.

Conviction in thy words must hold,

Speak a truth that's brave and bold.

Something went off like a firework in her mind. Something flourished, a fizz in her chest. Without allowing her brain to connect too many pathways together, to contemplate what she was about to say and what the reality of it all would mean for anything else, a decision fell into place. It took hold, brave and bold.

"You know what, Christopher?" Belle stared him down, even dared a little airy laugh as she looked at him with pure contempt. "It's been a joy and a pleasure getting to know you, and as always your company leaves me feeling as though I might profusely vomit at any moment."

That made him look up from his pager.

"But I quit. That's it. I quit."

A look of utter confusion dawned on his sweaty face. "You what?"

"We are done here," she said, perfectly calmly. "I have officially had enough of being treated like I am some insignificant child who is lucky to be running around after you, picking up all of the slack that you drop, when in fact I am far more capable and skilled than you could ever possibly dream of being."

Christopher snarled. "Is that right?"

"It is. I've got…conviction in thy words—I mean, my words. I deserve better, I deserve more. You can expect my resignation letter tomorrow."

"You can't…" He barked a laugh. "You can't quit."

"Yep. I can. I absolutely can," Belle said, surprised to find that it was, in fact, true. Of course she could. She'd figure it out. She always did.

Be thy assured all shall be well,

A fortune magic cannot tell.

"It's either leave this place of my own free will, right this moment, or launch myself into space if I have to stay here under your revolting, beastly presence for even one more hour. So I quit being any part of your soul-destroying plan to turn this beautiful gem into a despondent hell-hole with immediate effect and wish you all the luck in your future endeavours at being the most first-class, unpleasant maggot to ever walk the planet."

Christopher spat as he spoke. "You haven't got another job lined up, so you can't quit. You can't go anywhere. And I won't be giving you a recommendation after this little tantrum display, you can be sure of that."

"Actually, I don't need anything from you. In fact, I'd worry about your own job, if I were you. But while we're on the subject, should I ever need a reference, you'll be giving me the most radiantly glowing recommendation that the book world has ever seen, having done your job for you for the past three years. Otherwise, everyone you've ever worked alongside will be hearing in great detail about the abysmal way you treat every single woman you encounter, all of them with more talent in their little finger than your entire loathsome being."

Christopher's face turned such an alarming shade of cardinal red that Belle faltered for a second, wondering if her words were causing serious health problems. "Belle Blackthorn, if you walk out of here, you will never set foot through that door again, not if I've got anything to do with it."

"Luckily, I wouldn't count on you having anything to do with it for much longer. Toodle-oo!"

It was only once she crossed the threshold of his office and stepped back onto the floor of Lunar Books that Belle sunk under the weight of what she'd just done.

"Belle, are you all right? Maybe you should sit down…" Monica gulped, craning her neck around the Stellar Reads to see her boss sway on the spot, clutching her suddenly very sweaty forehead.

"I think I might be sick," Belle said.

The thought of leaving Lunar behind, of feeling it fade away from her like the last moments of a firefly, was too much to bear. But there was another way, if she could just hang on to this new-found bravery. She could keep the firefly safely in her pocket, bring it back to life, if only she'd allow herself to try.

"VI, IT'S ME. I think it's time. I mean, I know it's time. I want to buy Lunar Books, like you've always said I should. You were right. We're supposed to do this, I'm supposed to do this. I have so many ideas…It's going to be…Well, call me when you get this. Okay, bye. I'm excited. Bye. Bye bye bye."

Belle left her convoluted, chaotic message on Violet's answering machine and promptly bit down on the phone cord like a feral dog, the pumping adrenaline still coursing through her. Along with the flourish potion, which must still be streaming through her veins; otherwise, she'd never have been able to take the leap of faith she had today.

But…Belle tapped the phone against her chin as a confusing thought popped into her mind. She'd tried magic for bravery and boldness before, every version of it under the sun when she was younger. Those times had even showed up in her manifests for Selcouth—how she'd left herself bruised and battered with desperate attempts to change who she was, trying to rush something that wouldn't come. And they'd never, ever worked. Only reminded her of everything she felt she should but could and never would be. So what made this spell different?

Of course, she'd learned a lot more magical theory since then, and this brewing had been under Artorius's expert guidance. But she supposed potions couldn't work to change a person fundamentally. Magic couldn't manipulate a person's make-up or change who somebody really was. That was impossible.

The difference was that this time, she was ready. She was ready to receive it, to be bold and brave, and to flourish by herself. In fact, she already was. She just had to keep going, full speed and pedal to the metal, and in four moons, she'd have her decision from Selcouth.

Whichever way it swung.