Necromancy In D Minor ✔️

Sorrow's Arietta

Mama always told her she had a sweet smile, but when she smiled, mama didn't look.

Arietta watched her mother disappear through the door, heard her footfalls fade away. A moment later the sounds of hammering drifted up from the shop.

She slouched in her seat, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders swallowing her up to her neck. Hot tears pricked her eyes, and she swallowed the sobs climbing up her throat. She couldn't remember the last time mama had looked at her, or spoken to her.

All her mother did was work—hew wood into pretty boxes and form glass into elaborate vials and jars. She went to the shop before dawn broke, only coming up when it was time for bed. She wouldn't even speak to papa.

It broke Arietta's heart every time mama walked by her like she didn't exist, expression blank as a wall. What did I do wrong? she wondered. What happened to the days when mama would read to until she fell asleep and comfort her when she had bad dreams?

The world was dark and scary when she closed her eyes, and Many nights she went to bed feeling like the world was fading from around her, only to wake up to it, still there. But with no one to comfort her, it felt as though her fears were mounting.

Arietta's life only consisted of two stages, before being sick and after being sick. She wanted to go back to when she could run around and play with everyone else. When she would have sleepovers with Tallis and Lyra, and they'd stay up all night reading Lyra's book by the light of one candle.

She hated being sick; she hated the pain and the fatigue. She hated the way everyone looked at her, hated when they asked how she was feeling. And she smiled and told them she was fine because it made them look less sad.

"Arietta." Papa's voice cut into her thoughts. He walked in from the kitchen with a steaming bowl in one hand and a stained apron in the other. His brow was etched with worry as he looked down at her. "Is something the matter? Are you in pain?"

She shook her head and wiped the moisture from her face. "No, papa I'm fine."

The worry didn't fade from his face as he knelt in front of her. "Here. Try to eat just a little," he said, blowing on the bowl of broth to cool it. "You'll need your strength. Your friends will be here soon."

Arietta took the small bowl, and its warmth seeped through her gloves into her hands. But the smell of herbs and meat wafting from the gold-brown liquid made her stomach churn. She frowned at the gaunt face reflected in the broth as she brought the bowl to her lips and tipped it back, swallowing as much as she could. It ignited a fire in her tummy that made her want to gag.

Papa rubbed her back and whispered soothing words as she curled up and willed the broth to stay down. Sweat broke out on her brow and salty liquid pooled into her mouth. All she could do was swallow over and over until her stomach finally settled. She sat up proper and wrapped the blanket around her tight to combat the shivers racking her body.

"There's my poppet." Papa gave her shoulder a small squeeze and took the bowl back into the kitchen.

Arietta closed her eyes and leaned back against the couch's soft cushions. Fatigue made her bones weak and heavy, and her head lulled to one side as she drifted off.

No. She shook herself awake. Tallis and Lyra were coming to help her practice. Miss Octavia had chosen her to play alongside them at the winter ball. But she wasn't sure why. Everyone else played so much better than her.

Her flute case laid open on the coffee table with her sheet music spread out beside it. Miss Octavia had worked with her one-on-one in the few classes she'd attended, but sometimes she was too weak to carry a note or play a song for more than a few seconds. Even though Miss Octavia was nice and understanding, guilt still ate away at her. She was letting her music teacher down.