Petronella opened the door to the florist and herbalist shop, wrinkling her nose at the scent of herbs that suddenly assailed her. She walked in with purpose, knowing precisely where the person that she was looking for was. He seemed to hear her approach too, because Willem turned his head.

  “Ah.” Willem stepped toward her easily. “If it isn’t the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Or… considering what you’re doing for me… maybe a sheep in wolf’s clothing. I was wondering when I’d run into you again.”

  Petronella looked at him suspiciously as she stepped closer, in a slight rage. She cut to the heart of the matter that’d been bothering her without delay. “Why, exactly, did you decide to leave first thing in the morning when I expressly told you that I intended to talk to your further?”

  Willem held his arms out. “If people are after me, shouldn’t I act normal, act like nothing’s really wrong?”

  Petronella’s frown lessened. “Was that your reasoning?”

  “No, I made that up just now,” Willem said with a shrug. “It is compelling, though, you have to admit.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh at his absurdity. She knew that she had been wise to trust her instinct to preserve this man. He had been a most interesting diversion, and the days to come promised to be equally so.

  “I’ve been thinking about things,” Willem continued. “It’s pretty funny. First, you think you’re going on a date with me, a far younger man. I correct that misunderstanding, tell you I’m only interested in older women. Then, a while later, you correct my understanding, and make it known you are an older woman. Then I correct your misunderstanding, and let you know I’m also old.“

  “Yes, it has been entertaining,” she admitted freely, wondering if he was going to confirm his intentions. She waited on his next words.

  Willem smiled and looked into her eyes for a long, long while, silently. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

  Petronella was more than a little irritated. What was he doing, exactly? Toying with her? In that case, she felt the need to ask, “Do you have any idea what I am?”

  “A little,” he nodded, then leaned against a wooden pillar in the shop. “But I got my information from Dirk… and, well, he’s Dirk. Why don’t you tell me what you are?”

  “I’m a chimera,” she said. “A trueborn chimera.”

  “As opposed to a baseborn chimera?”

  Petronella walked closer to him, looking back within the shop. No one was within listening distance, but was she was still cautious. “There are lesser chimeras born of impure unions—unintelligent, slavering beasts with a form much like the one you saw, but without the intellect I possess.”

  “The intellect you possess?” he repeated. “Do you have a demonstration? I haven’t seen it yet,” he said with a cheeky smile.

  She poked his chest forcefully, and he stepped back, alarmed by her strength. “Perhaps the fact that I came to you about the people with a design on your life is demonstration enough. You seem to have forgotten the urgent matter.”

  “I’m just playing around,” Willem said, rubbing where she’d struck. “Like I said, I’ll handle it my way. And if I can’t, I figure you’ll come up with something if you cared enough to warn me in the first place.”

  Petronella almost gaped at him. Why was he so uncaring about this matter? It defied her comprehension. It was like he lived in a world of delusion, far removed from the realities of the world. Or maybe he didn’t, and he just didn’t care to address them.

  “I’ve learned that everything is going to culminate in that monthly meeting of yours. In case they try anything untoward, I’ve let Viviene know you have a target on your back. Still, I’m pretty certain Arend will attempt to hold the duel there, discredit you there… and kill you there. I’ll need to attend.” She ground her teeth together. “We’ll use the same excuse as last time.”

  “That you’re my date?” Willem stroked his clean-shaven chin. “That wasn’t an excuse, Petronella. That was a misunderstanding.”

  She glared at him. “It’ll work fine. What, you have qualms?”

  “I… suppose it works,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

  “You suppose it works,” Petronella repeated.

  “Slightly inconvenient,” he said, holding his fingers out close together. “I can work around it, I guess.”

  “Inconvenient how?” She shook her head, fed up with him. “Never mind, don’t answer. Anyway… we need to prepare you for a bit of a show trial at the monthly meeting. I’ll make some arrangements.”

  Willem looked irritated. “A show trial?” He scratched at his neck. “That’s annoying. I have business plans.”

  Petronella’s face slackened. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

  Willem looked at her like she was stupid. “What else could be more important?”

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  “Your life.” She crossed her arms. “Or perhaps your date. Did you intend to spend all night chatting about numbers and money, leaving me to languish as you did last time? After what I’m doing for you, I think reciprocation is in order.”

  “Ah… well…” he laughed sheepishly. “That sounds like me. My range of interests is a little…” Willem put his fingers close together. “…narrow. Maybe you could join us?”

  Petronella squinted suspiciously. “What’s the topic of discussion?”

  “It’s fascinating stuff. We’ll be discussing the distribution and logistics networks of soap, right alongside the overhaul of the shipbuilding industry,” Willem said.

  “Soap logistics,” she repeated.

  “Yeah. You know, the procurement of potash, tallow, olive oil, et cetera.” He looked at her as if he was genuinely excited. “It’s an engrossing subject. Or… since it’s soap… perhaps ‘de-grossing.’” He laughed, and when Petronella didn’t join him, explained, “Because you’re, uh, using the soap to make things not gross. It’s also a multi-layered joke, because ‘de-grossing’ is a finance term, and… well, never mind.”

  “I’ll attend,” Petronella said stiffly. “But there’s something you should understand. I’m doing this on a whim. You need to make it worth my whimsy. Do you understand?”

  “Alright, fine,” he said, conceding like a scolded child. “Could you show up late?”

  Petronella narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why?”

  “I want to try and handle it myself,” he said. “If I can’t… you can show up.”

  “How?” Petronella urged him to explain.

  “I’m an incredibly persuasive figure,” Willem said, holding his hand to his chin as if to emphasize his handsomeness. “Just do it, yeah? Wait outside until things get out of control. I don’t want our misunderstanding to deepen.”

  Petronella pursed her lips. “Fine, very well. If you end up smeared on the floor, that’s your problem.”

  “Wonderful,” Willem said, then turned to leave. He paused at the exit to the herbalist’s shop, looking back. “What exactly did you say to Viviene?”

  “Nothing overtly untrue. Didn’t want to cause you too many problems.” Petronella smiled. “Only a great many of them.”

  ***

  Viviene sat in the downstairs room for the Society of Assured Prosperity, tapping her foot anxiously. It was quite late, and Willem hadn’t returned. After what that woman had said to her, the anxiety she felt had been spiraling upward second by second. She wanted to see her son, talk to him, verify what had been said.

  She needed to be sure her boy was alright. And if he wasn’t, she had to be sure to fix it. And if she couldn’t, she had to find someone who could. And if she could manage none of those things… then she would have to do everything imaginable to keep him safe until she could do it.

  Viviene ran her hand through her hair. What the hell, Viviene? What did you expect, leaving for five years without speaking a word—that everything would be alright? That all the problems you saw would just up and vanish, solve themselves? Even after Tielman did what he did, that didn’t absolve you of being a mother. Now… your boy… your boy could be…

  When she heard the clatter of the key in the door, she rose to her feet and moved near. The moment the door opened and he walked in, she already felt somewhat choked up.

  “Willem,” she managed steadily.

  “Petronella told me that she talked to you,” Willem said, rubbing the bridge of his nose like it was a bother. “What did she say?”

  “That…” She walked up and grabbed his arm, almost as if he was going to float away. “That you didn’t care if you lived or died. That people were after your life, and you couldn’t care less.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like…” Willem lowered his head and laughed. “Look. It’s not serious. It’s a big nothing.”

  “Was she lying?” Viviene asked hopefully. “You will defend yourself, won’t you? If someone were to attack you… you’d fight back, right? You know that your life matters?”

  “I can’t speculate like that, c’mon…” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. We’re working things out.”

  “It’s quite an easy question to answer, isn’t it? Do you know that your life matters?” She took his hand. “Do you know that you’re important? To yourself? To me?” She squeezed his hand tightly. “You know that I love you, don’t you? I know I’ve said… said the most awful things, sometimes, but you know that I love you, right?”

  “Yes, I think that’s rather abundantly on display,” he said, almost politely. It only made her more committed.

  “I don’t care if you don’t love me back. I just want you to know that I love you, and that you’re worthy of love.” She tried her very best to hold back tears. “Can you please talk to me? Just tell me what’s wrong, Willem. What happened? I only want to make it better, that’s all. I won’t be mean. I’m sorry for everything I’ve said. I just…”

  “Viviene.” Willem held her arms. “I’ll be fine. I can assure you that despite any strange inclinations I might hold, I much prefer life to death. I’m fine.”

  “Not wanting to defend yourself isn’t fine, Willem,” she insisted, shaking his arms. “Please. Tell me anything that’s troubling you. Anything. Tell me…” her voice wavered. “Tell me about the two gravestones on the beach.”

  Willem’s face went grave, and Viviene’s heart sank. “What?” he demanded, almost angrily. “How does she—oh.” He lowered his head. “The Divulgence. Of course. She would remember that. Petronella…”

  Viviene felt her heart tear as she realized the matriarch hadn’t been lying. “Grief… is hard, Willem. But I can help you. You just need to talk to me.”

  “That was a long time ago,” he said, pulling away his arms. “Not worth digging up. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Sometimes we all have to do things we don’t want to do, Willem.” Viviene refused to let him free. “I won’t let this go. You’re too important.”

  Willem looked down at the ground for a long, long while without a word. Finally, he let out a long, weary sigh. “Alright.”

  “Alright?” Viviene repeated.

  “Alright, I’ll talk,” Willem finally said. “I won’t get specific. It… does still bother me, I’ll admit it. But you want to know why I am the way I am, I’ll tell you. Once, and once alone.” He looked around. “But it’s not a conversation for the doorway.”

  Viviene breathed a sigh of relief, and the first tear finally slipped out of her good eye. She quickly wiped it away. “Thank you, son. Thank you.” She hesitated, and then hugged him. “It’s going to be alright.”