Violet Thistlewaite Is Not a Villain Anymore by Emily Krempholtz - 28

“What’s got into you today?” Pru asked the next morning as she finished measuring bite root for a customer. “You’ve got your thinking face on. Is the blight bothering you? Quinn said there’s a patch of it now in her neighbor’s garden.”

“What?” Nathaniel looked sharply at his sister. “Has she contained it?”

“No, I told her to spread it on her morning scone like butter.” Prudence rolled her eyes. “Of course she’s contained it.”

The familiar cracks of dread began to spiderweb through Nathaniel’s confidence. “I’ve still never seen anything like it. I’m considering reaching out to some of my old colleagues from the Crucible for their take.”

“What if you asked that new alchemist who opened up shop?” Pru asked. “Sedgwick, yeah?”

“Sedgwick, no ,” Nathaniel disagreed. “He’s blatantly stealing business from us. And besides, Violet thinks he might be behind the blight.”

“What?” Pru reared back. “Really?”

“He has some kind of reputation. It sounds like she knows him from before she came to Dragon’s Rest.”

His sister’s expression flattened to stony solemnity. “That’s serious, then. Who else knows?”

“I’m not sure. We don’t know anything for certain yet.” Not that Nathaniel would be upset if, say, word got out to Quinn and spread through Dragon’s Rest until Sedgwick was forced to leave town. His vehement dislike had only grown with Violet’s suspicion that Sedgwick might be the one causing the blight, not to mention with every one of his customers who’d stopped coming into Marsh’s. And if those reasons weren’t valid enough, the man had made Violet cry . He had to go.

One good thing had come of it all, he supposed. The Sweet Dreams Elixir that he’d made for Violet would spoil after a month. He’d resolved already to brew her more whenever she had need of it, but even the smallest batch would leave him with more than she could use in that time. So Nathaniel had taken to heart the ideas that had sprung in Violet’s kitchen and bottled the rest for sale. He’d placed it on display this morning…and already sold four bottles at a significant price point.

A few more days like this, he thought with something dangerously like hope, and they might be able to make their first monthly payment to the bank.

The Sweet Dreams Elixir wasn’t volatile, he reasoned with himself. Even in its early experimental days, he’d never seen any sort of adverse reaction—no explosions, not even a bad smell—and even before he perfected the balance of ingredients and the precise details of the method, he’d never experienced any side effects.

“What do you think about offering a few other alchemical medicines?” he slowly asked his sister now. He’d started working on several this morning, inventions from his days in the Crucible, but had resisted floating the idea to Pru. Now that one of them was not only on their shelves but doing well, however, it was time to ask. “Nothing big, mind, and certainly nothing dangerous.”

He was still resolved not to experiment on anything brand new without a proper work setup, especially now that he shared the space with Violet. Nathaniel would never put the people in his life at risk for his own ambitions again—but he did have alchemical solutions for some of the regular problems of folks in Dragon’s Rest that were tested, safe, and effective. He could sell them in the shop without risking fire, injury, or death upon the people closest to him.

And maybe keep his business afloat in the process.

“Yes,” said Pru before he’d even finished talking. “Nathaniel, yes .”

He could feel his cheeks growing warm. “It’s just that the Sweet Dreams Elixir is doing so well already, and I thought—”

“I already agreed, you silly bat!” She flung her arms around him. “It’s a wonderful idea, brother. Exactly what the shop needs.”

“Well,” he said again, feeling sheepishly pleased. “We’ll need to buy some specialty ingredients, and it won’t be cheap, but I think with the markup on the inventory once it’s ready for sale, we can—”

“Still yes. You’re not going to talk me out of it, and I certainly won’t let you talk yourself out of it.” Prudence looked feverish with excitement. “I’m thrilled, Nathaniel. Thrilled.”

“But are you thrilled ?”

She slapped his shoulder, grinning. “Thrilled!”

He felt his own smile grow as he watched his twin walk away from him and scoop Daisy into her arms. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Thrilled, Nathaniel!”

It was settled, then. Marsh’s would start selling his inventions. Nathaniel would officially be an alchemist once more.

Guy—Regular Guy, that was, not Big Bad Evil Guy—watched with an approving smile from over by the window display. The old man held a bottle of Sweet Dreams Elixir in his gnarled hands.

“You heard all of that, then?” Nathaniel asked, scratching at the back of his neck self-consciously. Guy had been close with his father and grandfather and had been a regular fixture at Marsh’s all of Nathaniel’s life.

Guy nodded.

“And what do you think? Am I setting myself up for disaster?”

Guy ambled over to the counter and set the bottle down. Slowly, so that even Nathaniel with his extremely basic knowledge of sign language could understand, he spelled out the word proud .

“Well then,” said Nathaniel, feeling unendurably pleased. “If you say so.”

Guy paid for the elixir and left the store, leaving Nathaniel behind the counter with entirely too much emotional energy for a person to safely contain. Pru was thrilled. Guy was proud. He’d spent so long being ashamed and horrified about what he’d done, he’d assumed everyone else in Dragon’s Rest felt the same. When he’d packed away his alchemy gear and vowed to keep the apothecary as it was, he thought everyone else must have been relieved. No risk of anyone else being hurt by his actions; no chance that more of his experiments would go wrong in other, even more disastrous ways.

But both Guy and Pru had known him his whole life. Was it possible they’d seen the way it had affected him, not being able to do the thing he loved most? Was it possible they didn’t hold him responsible for his parents’ deaths? Was it possible there were others in town who felt the same?

When Nathaniel had worked for the Crucible, he felt swallowed up by the big city, secure in his own anonymity. Coming back to Dragon’s Rest had made him feel uncomfortably on display. But perhaps there was safety to be found even in a space where everyone could see him. Perhaps Violet was right—these people knew him, flaws and all, and they would not let him fall.

As a child, Dragon’s Rest had felt stifling—everyone knew everyone’s business and made it their own, and for an anxious, introverted boy finding his own way, that was more of an imposition than anything. But a community, he was finding since his return, was about much more than a lack of privacy. It was about help, and support, and family. Nathaniel still didn’t look forward to surprise visits from neighbors and the way Quinn inserted herself into gossip—but he loved the way Jerome pretended to be reluctant and grumpy while simultaneously offering to be everyone’s handyman, and how Guy gave away leftover pastries at the end of the day, and how Nathaniel could easily remember his customers’ names and regular orders. He even loved sharing the greenhouse with Violet.

He could never have planned for this, would never have wanted to plan for it, but perhaps unexpected bumps in the road didn’t have to be a bad thing. Perhaps change could lead to good as well as bad, and he could adapt more easily than he gave himself credit for if he just gave himself the space to pivot and explore. He’d spent so much time focused on everything he was getting wrong, it never struck Nathaniel how much he had gotten right.

Nathaniel’s thoughts buzzed as he shut the apothecary for the night. He locked the doors, closed the blinds, and updated his ledgers as quickly as he could, all while a different type of energy built within him, one that flowed like fire through his veins as he extinguished the lamps and strode out the back door.

Nathaniel had never been the type of person who wanted to gloat over his victories. He’d always kept the particulars of his life tidy and private—even Pru had to drag information from him. But Violet didn’t make him feel like she would judge or gossip or pander; she made him feel heard , and safe , and a number of other words Nathaniel would have scoffed at only weeks ago. He wanted to share his news with her.

He opened the door to the greenhouse, and there she was, the warm lamplight from her worktable painting her hair with streaks of gold. Her greeting cut off as he strode purposefully toward her, bypassing his own half of the greenhouse.

“Are you alright?” she asked instead, cocking her head.

“Never better,” he said honestly, and swept her up into his arms, lifting her off her feet in a tight embrace that made her squeal with laughter. He pressed his nose into the waves of her hair as he swung her around, smelling that blackberry-and-almond scent that meant he’d interrupted her doing magic, no doubt preparing bouquets for tomorrow morning.

“I did it,” he said without bothering to mask his joy. “I put the Sweet Dreams Elixir on our shelves, and I’m going to sell more alchemical medicines in the apothecary. It’s really happening.”

“That’s wonderful.” She laughed again and pressed a hand to his cheek, thumb grazing his stubble. He leaned into her touch. “Nathaniel, I’m so happy for you. I want to hear everything.”

“I’ve got so many ideas,” he told her, setting her back on her feet, though he didn’t let go of her waist. Her hands settled at his shoulders as he explained his inventions. A lotion to encourage hair growth. A tincture that straightened crooked teeth. A powder that ensured new shoes would not give the wearer blisters. “They aren’t life-changing cures and medicines, but they’re a start. And it’s all thanks to you.”

“Certainly not.” She beamed at him. “ You invented these.”

“But I’d never have done anything with them if you hadn’t talked sense into me.” He drew a deep breath. “Violet, I’ve been an idiot. I’ve spent so long worried about repeating past mistakes and maintaining my parents’ legacy I didn’t consider the legacy that I want to leave. Who I want to be. You helped me see that. You helped me be brave enough to take the risk.” His gaze roamed her face, drinking in her wide eyes and long lashes, those thick brows and bow-shaped lips separated by that scar. She was perfect, his flower witch, and he needed her to know it.

“And in the interest of taking risks,” he said, before he could convince himself not to, “I need to tell you something.”

She took in the change in his expression, pulling her lip between her teeth in a way that made him want to bite it himself. Easy, Nathaniel.

“I meant every word I said the other night.” His voice rasped as he told her, “I find you incredible, Violet Thistlewaite.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“The notes back and forth, our conversation at the window, last night in your kitchen, that kiss—” He cut himself off, suddenly nervous, but nothing done by halves, he supposed. “I care for you, Violet. More than I ever intended. If you tell me you don’t feel the same, I will understand. But with the way we left things, I wanted to—”

“But I do,” she said, and his heart stuttered in his chest. “I do feel the same.”

“Oh.” Nathaniel took the small smile she showed him, held it in his chest, and let it warm him like a fire on a wintry night. He knew, then, that she was scared too. His thumbs brushed small circles over the fabric of her waistline, urging her to talk to him.

“Nathaniel, I’m not good at this.” He watched Violet swallow her words and commanded himself to pay attention to what she was saying instead of closing the space between them to press his lips to the place where her throat met her collarbone. “I’m terrified I won’t be able to be the person you think I am. I don’t want to ruin everything.”

He ducked his head to catch her gaze. “Someone very wise and lovely once said that without risk, there can be no hope of change.”

She narrowed her eyes, looking at him sidelong. “Has anyone ever told you it’s incredibly rude to use someone’s words against them?”

“I’ll make a note of it.” He dared to move closer, and trailed a hand up her arm until his fingers brushed her neck, then her jaw. She was terrified? He wondered if she could hear the way his heart staggered in his chest. Nathaniel had been brave today—perhaps it would prove contagious. “All I know is that I feel lighter than I have in a long time, and you are the person I want to share that with.”

She dropped her head to his collarbone as she huffed out a breathy laugh he could feel against his skin.

“And besides,” Nathaniel continued, tipping her chin back up so she was looking at him, “I’ve recently become somewhat of an expert in taking risks.”

He took the biggest one of all, then, and lowered his mouth to hers.