Violet Thistlewaite Is Not a Villain Anymore by Emily Krempholtz - 26

A sliver of light streamed from the crack beneath the door that separated his half of the upstairs hallway from Violet’s, and Nathaniel knocked before he could convince himself not to, turning the thick, brass key in the lock for the first time since she’d moved in.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered to Daisy, who sat at his feet with her tongue lolling from her mouth. “It’s late, I’m just checking to make sure she’s well.”

When there was no answer, he convinced himself she simply hadn’t heard him, but he didn’t want to knock louder and risk waking Pru, who would certainly have questions he didn’t feel equipped to answer right now.

He turned away and was steps from his own bedroom door when he heard the clink of the lock on her side. Daisy whined and rushed for the door, her tail thumping on the carpet.

“Hi,” he said, feeling inexplicably breathless as he turned back.

“Hi.” Violet was wearing nothing but a dressing gown, which left her lower legs bare. Instantly, Nathaniel wondered if he’d made a mistake in knocking on her door. After all, he was supposed to be avoiding distraction and giving her space. She bent down to scratch behind Daisy’s ears, and Nathaniel averted his eyes when he saw the way the garment gaped at the collar.

He cleared his throat. “I saw the light, and it’s so late, I—I wondered if perhaps the elixir wasn’t doing its job.”

Her face melted into a soft smile that made him recall exactly what it had been like to feel those lips under his. “It’s not the elixir,” she said, standing, and he stepped closer so they could continue to speak in low voices, unheard by Pru down the hall. “I can’t remember the last time I slept so well.”

His relief must have been evident on his face, because she looked at him oddly.

“Why? Should I expect it to stop working?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Nathaniel leaned against the door frame and stared at the ceiling as he admitted, “It’s only, I’ve spent the past few days wondering if I can do anything right at all.”

Behind Violet, Peri appeared, which was apparently the best news Daisy had received all day. With a soft yip, she leapt toward the rock goblin and the two of them tore down the hallway, wrestling and pouncing on each other. Violet and Nathaniel both followed their movements for a moment until Violet said, “Why don’t you come in?” and stood back to allow him past the doorway.

As Daisy and Peri continued zooming and wrestling, Violet led him to her small kitchen. Nathaniel felt his shoulders loosen as he took a seat and looked around the room that had once been his mother’s study. It was undoubtedly Violet’s space now, with flowers and plants everywhere and an open book on the small table next to a bowl of vegetables from the garden and a plate of pastries. Nathaniel could smell them from here—they were the same delicious brown butter, pear, and cardamom tarts Guy had brought him today. It didn’t surprise him one bit that Violet had managed to charm the old man into giving her baked goods.

Nathaniel plucked a cherry tomato from the bowl and rolled it between his fingers. “The vegetable gardens were my father’s,” he said, staring pointedly at the tomato instead of meeting her eyes. “He would be happy to know they are being used.”

“I’m honored to make use of them,” she said softly. “And let me know if you’d like me to grow anything in particular. I’m still getting the hang of squash—Pru said my last attempt tasted of cinnamon.”

“Was she complaining? Pru loves cinnamon.”

Violet’s laugh was clear and sweet as ever. “No, she was inquiring as to whether harvesting the seeds from that particular squash would grow more of the same flavor.”

“That sounds like my sister.”

“She said something similar,” Violet divulged. “About your father’s love for the vegetable garden.”

“That’s because it’s true. Neither of us liked seeing it fall to disorder last summer. And I suspect my mother would be pleased that the greenhouse is being used for growing plants again.” He made sure to smile so she’d know he was teasing as he added, “Even if they’re for bouquets and not medicines.”

“Har har.” A kettle was already steaming atop the woodstove, and Violet pulled down a jar from a shelf. “Tea?”

“Got anything stronger?” he drawled, scraping a hand through his hair.

She smirked at him. “Was that a joke?”

“I am capable of humor, you know.”

“Oh, I’ve seen your chalkboards, if that’s what you’re calling humor.”

“And yours are any better?”

They stood grinning at each other until Nathaniel forgot what they’d even been saying.

Violet looked back at her jar of tea. “I mix my chamomile with mint before bedtime,” she explained as she retrieved a second jar. “I call it mintomile.”

“That sounds perfect.” He frowned, his brain snagging on the name. “Have you considered chamomint as an alternative?”

“I have not.” She brandished the tea at him like a weapon. “Is this going to be on your sign tomorrow?”

“Frankly, if the superior wordplay option is up for the taking, I’d be remiss if I didn’t use it.”

“Superior! Haven’t we just been over this?” Violet’s laugh soothed him more than any cup of tea could—and Nathaniel really, really liked tea.

“Now what’s all this about you not doing anything right?” Her eyes were on the shelves as she pulled down a jar of Quinn’s honey, but Nathaniel felt her attention nonetheless. “I’ll assume you haven’t made progress with the blight today, then?”

He shook his head and thanked her when she set her place with a mug and handed him another. It was one of Fallon’s, heavy and glazed in pale green. Their fingers brushed for the barest moment, and he responded, “Not even a little. My experiments are limited until I can get a new workbox. Corrin says she’ll make it her top priority, but it will still be a day or two at the soonest.”

“You’re doing all you can,” said Violet soothingly, taking the seat opposite his and pushing the book aside to make space for the teapot. She poured them both a cup. “And more than anyone else knows how.”

“That’s the problem,” he said with enough force that her gaze sharpened on him. “It’s still not enough.”

Gently, Violet reached across the table and laid her hand over his. Her palm was warm from her mug, yet still nothing compared to the heat that coursed through him at her casual contact. “No one is asking you to solve this on your own. No one expects that of you.”

“ I expect that of me.” He turned his palm, lacing his fingers with hers, and marveled at the very act—was this what they were to each other now, or was their closeness something they could only achieve late at night with the moons their sole witnesses? “It feels sometimes like everyone I know is depending on me. I’m the one they’re relying on to solve the blight, but what if I can’t do it? What if I’m not clever enough to fix it and more people lose their crops or livelihoods? And then there’s the apothecary—it’s my family’s legacy and I can barely keep it afloat. If I can’t make my next bank payment, I’m going to lose the shop. And then I must make it again the next month, and every month following. We’ve had entire days lately without a single customer.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected. He thought she’d demand to know what would happen to her own livelihood or try to solve his problems for him or even insist that things would suddenly turn around on their own. But she stayed silent, the pressure of her fingers warm and comforting over his, and just listened.

Nathaniel continued. “My sister and I have inherited so many problems from our parents and now it’s on us to solve them all—but neither of us even really want to run an apothecary. If I ask Pru for more help, I know she’ll give it, but then she’ll have to stop playing music at the inn and the market, and I won’t do that to her. Even you—” He turned a tortured gaze on her. “If I fail to keep the apothecary open and the bank takes the building, what will become of your shop? I can’t let you lose it, not after you’ve worked so hard.”

“Thank you for saying that.” She squeezed his hand. “But Nathaniel, what about you? What is it you want?”

He could feel himself closing down, shuttering the windows through which he was suddenly afraid she had seen all his dusty rooms and dark corners not often exposed to light. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” she insisted, and suddenly his hand was clasped in both of hers. “Nathaniel, of course it matters.”

He resisted the urge to pull away from her, settling instead for closing his eyes, focusing on the warmth of her fingers wrapped around his. “I want what I’ve always wanted. To make a difference. To invent medicines that can help people.”

“Then do it,” she said simply.

“I tried. I failed.”

“So try again.”

Nathaniel scoffed. “Yes, because it’s that simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

She made it sound so easy.

“You studied in the Crucible, didn’t you?” she cajoled.

“And what a waste that was.”

“I see it very differently.” She stared at him evenly. “You have an education and experience to help you toward your goal. That puts you leagues ahead of me—I had exactly zero business knowledge before opening my shop, but it was my dream. And if I hadn’t done it, I would have always wondered if I could. Am I still figuring it out? Yes. But is it worth it? Absolutely. You can long for something all you want, but you’ll never unlock the door if you’re too afraid to turn the key.”

“I can’t afford the risk,” Nathaniel said immediately. It was the excuse he’d used with Pru again and again, and by now she’d stopped arguing with him.

But Violet wasn’t Pru, and she didn’t allow him to keep those tidy boundaries. She only looked at him with those shining eyes and said with more patience than he deserved, “What do you think you’re risking? Your reputation? Everyone in this town respects you, admires your intellect and your resolve. That won’t change.” She cracked a smile. “Your friends and family already know you’re a bit gruff and particular, and they love you not in spite of but because of it. Because it’s part of the rest of you—the determined, loyal man who adopts stray puppies and helps a neighbor with her nightmares and enjoys wordplay more than he’ll openly admit. You won’t lose the people who care for you if you fail. You’ll only have to accept their hands to help you back up again.”

Nathaniel wondered if she was telling him she was one of those people.

He wanted to believe she was, or could become so.

“Without risk, there can be no hope of change,” Violet continued. “And believe me, I’ve made a lot of changes recently. You tell me you want to create new innovations in alchemy, make a difference to the world. The elixir you gave me has made a difference to my life.”

Her words struck him at first with embarrassment that he should forget something so simple, and then with a burgeoning sense of light he soon recognized as hope. She was right about all of it. He did have the experience and the schooling, and that wasn’t worth nothing. He had made mistakes—big, terrible ones—but he’d made a difference too.

He wondered when he’d forgotten that in order to truly consider himself an inventor, he had to be unafraid to try something new.

“You’re right,” he said finally, and the words struck such a chord that he repeated them. “You’re right.”

“I’m often right, these days,” she replied with a wink. “Now what are you going to do about it?”

His mind raced. “There’s not much I can do about the blight at the moment, but the apothecary…” A laugh escaped his throat when he discovered the answer had been there all along. He met her eyes. “I have some ideas.”

“Good.” She extricated her hands from his and took a sip of her tea. How could he have thought this woman a distraction? If anything, she was a driving force, a guiding star. She had come here, fresh from a past that clearly troubled her, and started anew. She took risks. She made changes. He could do that too, couldn’t he?

When they finished their tea and collected Daisy from where she’d passed out curled up with Peri at the foot of Violet’s bed, she led him back to the hallway door.

“Thank you for tonight.” He used the hand that wasn’t full of sleeping puppy to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I needed someone to be honest with me.”

“I’m always glad to be the boot in someone’s arse,” she quipped, scrunching her nose as she smirked at him.

“It’s been a while since I had someone to talk to like this.”

“Me too.” She tilted her head to catch his eye. “You’re going to figure it out. The apothecary, the blight…”

A lingering wave of doubt crashed over him, the tide rising once more. “And if I can’t?” he whispered. “If I lose the building? If Dragon’s Rest suffers because I can’t fix the blight?”

She surprised him by pressing up onto her toes and looping her arms around his neck, pulling him close enough that he could smell the bright scent of her magic that clung to her like perfume. In his ear, she told him, “Then we band together like the community we are and figure it out.”

Her words had the intended effect; he felt calm once more, confident under the beam of her belief. And then—the softest pressure of her lips against his cheek. Nathaniel didn’t dare move or breathe. He knew she was afraid, but perhaps this was Violet taking a risk. Perhaps they could take a chance together. She lingered before pulling back, tugging her lower lip between her teeth as she fought a smile, and scratched Daisy between the ears one more time. “Good night, Nathaniel.”

He couldn’t remember the last time the roiling sea that churned constantly in him had calmed its waters like this, clouds parting and leaving nothing but clear skies full of endless stars above him.

“Good night, Violet.”

He stood there in the hall after she closed the door, listening for the sound of her locking it. The sound never came, and he didn’t turn the key on his side either.