Give Me Your Riches: Chapter Twelve
Roland didn't know how he had found the secluded courtyard again. Every time he had sought out to find it, it had eluded him. But on this morning, stumbling through the castle gardens in blind grief, he had found the familiar ornate gate and swung it open. He heard it clang closed behind him before falling forward to rest his head on the stone bench and lose himself to his sorrow.
Dead. Ceres was dead.
The sun had risen high enough to warm his back when Roland finally ran out of tears. He pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes, trying to find relief from the pounding that had taken up residence in his head. He released a shuddering, broken breath and tried to swallow back the emotions that threatened to wholly consume him.
Roland needed this not to be his fault. The guilt would suffocate him if he was the person to blame for this tragedy. He needed someone to blame. But he would probably never know who had killed Ceres. It wouldn't be specifically investigated. She was too unimportant to the guard on the road who hadn't been able to protect her. The guard whose orders ultimately came from the King.
"That bastard…" Roland said under his breath as he balled up his fists.
"Roland. Why are you crying?"
The inhuman voice caused Roland to turn towards the gate and raise his fists defensively. It took him a moment to remember where he was and what else was here.
The Wishing Well. It remembered him. Weeks and weeks ago when Roland had first found this place, he also found an odd conversation partner. The conversation had been innocuous. The Well asked who Roland was and what he did. It asked what he had been doing out so late. Roland had been surprised to find himself easily sharing his frustrations with the Well. It had been such a relief to find a sympathetic ear, so to speak. And now, in his hour of greatest pain, it was here again.
Roland stood on shaky legs and walked the few steps over to the well. He stared down at its vacant face within the sun crest. The lack of expression was strangely comforting as Roland contended with more emotions than he could effectively manage.
"My wife is dead." His voice was hoarse, but he had managed to speak the truth without shaking. It gave him an odd sense of pride amongst his agony.
"All people die."
Roland didn't bother to hold back his rage as he slammed his fist hard down on the lip of the Well. Pain shot up his arm. It was the first tangible thing he had felt beyond his grief. He seethed through his teeth, welcoming the sensation. Anger offered relief, a sense of purpose in a world that had lost its heading.
"Of course all people die you damned pile of rocks! That doesn't mean you go saying it to a man who just lost his wife!
"I meant no offense, Roland."
Roland's anger simmered back down, replaced by the ache of loneliness. "Of course you didn't mean offense. You can't mean anything. You're a magical, talking Well. You don't really...have… Magic…." Roland felt his breath stop as realization started to wash over him. He leaned over the lip of the well to stare down at its face. "Can you bring people back from the dead?"
"I can grant any wish, Roland."
"Any wish? Any wish at all? So if I were to wish for my wife back to life -"
"Any wish." The well repeated in its familiar, monotone voice.
"Then I wish for...I wish for-"
Roland raked his hand through his hair, pulling at his scalp before releasing a grunt of frustration. He stepped back and began to pace in front of the well, his eyes wild.
"But it's not enough! Bringing Ceres back isn't enough. I can't change our life and if I bring her back, she'll still be unhappy. And if she's unhappy, if we're still poor, if that tyrant son of a bitch still looks down his nose at us, at all of us...she'll leave. She'll leave again...and die again."
"One wish can accomplish many things, Roland."
Roland stepped back up to the Well, staring down into its vacant, unmoving eyes.
"I wish for more than just the life of Ceres. I want her to be safe and provided for. I want to be appreciated for the work I do for my family. I want Ceres to never feel the sorrow and heartache of motherhood. I want her to never know need or hunger when she's with me. I want the Kingdom to be ruled justly and fairly so no one knows need or hunger like they do now. And I want no one in the kingdom to fear King Cedric, or his power, or his magic."
"Give me your riches, and I'll grant you your wishes."
Roland recoiled slightly. "I-I don't have anything."
"Riches of coin aren't the only things of value, Roland. Your ring."
"It's all I have left of her." His right hand immediately took his left ring finger protectively into its grip. It was a simple thing he had commissioned from the smithy in town; a circle of pewter that matched the one Ceres wore. ...the one Ceres used to wear.
"It won't be after you make your wish, Roland."
Roland spun the ring around on his finger. It was the last thing he had left their marriage, now that Ceres was gone. This could all be a dream, or a trick. He could drop his ring into the well and never see it again, cursed to stare at his bare finger and be constantly reminded of his stupidity. But if it worked, if the Well could really bring her back, wasn't it worth the risk?
Roland tugged the ring off its finger, ignoring the resistance he felt over his knuckle, and brought it to his lips. He kissed it, trying to transfer into the ring all of his hopes that this was real and he would see Ceres alive and well in just moments. He held the ring over the well's open mouth and dropped it in.
Roland collapsed to the ground, his vision awash with terrifying emptiness. The last thing he heard was the voice of the Well, suddenly more eerie than it had ever been before.
"Your wish has been granted."
.
.
Winifred closed the kitchen door behind her. She stepped out into the garden she had been cultivating since she and Goodwin had retired to Mystic Meadows. It was a twenty by twenty paces patch of earth that was generally maintained by the spells Calista had put into place for a school project. There was a satisfying sense of order to the garden; the herbs and vegetables used in the kitchen were separate from the plants that could be poisonous with misuse and flowers that had uses beyond beauty were placed in between. Summer was at its close. September was nearly at an end and many of the plants were on their last breaths of life before they could be put to bed. But the colors were still vibrant, their scents dancing invitingly in the air.
Sofia had already entrenched herself within the greenery, kneeling beside the sage and tucked behind the sprawling rosemary. She popped her head up at the sound of the door and smiled at Winifred. The matron walked down a narrow path of flagstones in the center of the garden. She took a few steps further down the path from where Sofia sat and reached up to pick the last dark purple elderberries from a tall bush.
The work was mindless, and for that Sofia was grateful. She had spent considerable energy this morning quieting the girlish, love-sick voice in her head that was still reeling from the dance mere hours earlier. It was a concrete moment that little voice could point to and say "Ah ha! You see? I haven't been making it up. He does see you romantically!"
But Cedric wasn't the sort of man who would suddenly start making moon eyes at her the next morning. And so, Sofia had left her glee behind her own bedroom door. She had focused her mind on the Well and the answers she hoped to find. She shushed that girlish twitter every time it tried to assert itself. Cedric was a mature and focused man. Sofia needed to show him that she could still be professional and competent even when his slightest touch sent lightning racing across her skin.
"What is that song you're humming, Sofia dear?"
Sofia blinked in surprise, "I was humming?"
"Yes, dear. It must be a lovely song - you're practically glowing."
"I'm sorry, I-I didn't realize-"
"Oh it's fine, nothing to apologize for. Pass the shears, would you?"
Sofia pulled her hands from the earth and picked up her wand. She gave it a little wave towards the kitchen and the shears came flying out through the open window, handle first, to Sofia. She handed them to Winifred who had continued on in a pleasant babble.
"You know, Cedric was always so good at gardening. I think that's why he started into potion making with such finesse - Sofia, if you could, love, only pluck the sage leaves bigger than your thumb. It lets the light get down to the ones below. We'll have to put the tubers to bed today but the sage will flourish a bit longer."
Sofia adjusted her approach to the herb accordingly as Winifred continued on.
"Yes, my Ceddy was always willing to help me out here. And in the Sorcerer's Garden at the castle, of course. He'd play in the dirt and find little treasures - shiny rocks, shells, that sort of thing. I even hid a few for him, little cherub. He'd always polish them up and give them to me as gifts. He's very kind. A very loving man, don't you think? Oh - but of course, I don't have to tell you. You've grown up around him. Would you move on to the tubers, love? You've pinched quite enough out of the sage, I think - yes, that's a good girl. Cover them up to three quarters, they can take it."
Winifred paused. Sofia moved over to the tubers and looked up at the other woman. Winifred had enchanted the shears and was directing them with her wand as they cut back a bush.
"Ceddy was so good at planting. He must have gotten it from me. I'm a bit of a horticulturalist myself, back before my hands started to bother me. I brewed quite a bit, though with not nearly the skill Ceddy possesses. Remind me, dear, was it parsley or coriander we planted in this row by the elderberry?"
"It's lovage, actually. It was blooming the last time we were here." Sofia barely looked up from her work, enjoying the feel of soil against her hands. As a princess, she was so rarely afforded the opportunity to literally get her hands dirty that a moment like this was one she could happily lose herself in.
The silence between them didn't last long before Winifred went on with a new avalanche of words.
"After we'd planted the spring herbs and vegetables, Ceddy and I would do a good, old-fashioned planting stomp. You know, when you stomp all the plots to pack the earth nice and tight." She let out a wistful little laugh at the memory. "He'd laugh and laugh as we'd dance in the garden under the moonlight - a good stomp has to be under the full moon for the spell of it to really take effect. But you know that, of course. I taught Ceddy all the steps. Tell me, does he still remember how to dance?"
"Oh yes, he's an incredible dancer," Sofia said dreamily. And then her hands froze as she realized what she had just said. She could feel the heat of her blush instantly spreading across her cheeks. Sofia ventured a slow, horrified gaze up through her eyelashes. Winifred had stopped trimming back the bush. She looked down at Sofia with a knowing, closed-lipped smile that was equal parts victory and smug satisfaction.
"I think you've covered the tubers well enough, love," Winifred said, the warmth in her voice overwhelmingly welcome. "Why don't you come help me with the elderberries? They seem to have a mind of their own."
They worked quietly for a few minutes. Sofia was grateful for the opportunity to let her blush fade away while hers and Winifred's attention was directed at the savage elderberry bush.
"I was hoping you might do me a little favor, Sofia."
"Of course." Sofia answered almost automatically.
"Could you tell me what it is Ceddy does in his free time?"
"My lessons occupy much of his free time, I'm afraid. When he isn't teaching me, I believe he's researching or pursuing his next quest and then tending to the needs of the Kingdom and Castle."
"No hobbies?"
"He held an interest for inventions and new technologies for a while, but I believe that's fallen by the wayside."
Winnifred clicked her tongue. "It's worse than I thought then…"
"What do you mean?" Sofia asked tentatively.
"It's absolutely no fault of yours, dear, but it seems Ceddy has removed all opportunities for pleasurable pursuits. He's always been dedicated, but I worry about him. All work and no play, as the saying goes."
Sofia opened her mouth to respond but, as if on cue, Cedric returned the moment after Winifred stopped speaking. He had been gone a scant ten minutes and was only barely out of breath as he materialized just outside the perimeter of the garden. Winifred put down her weeding and suggested that they all take an early afternoon stroll around the lake. Cedric mentioned an obscure ingredient that he had forgotten to pick up from his mother as a feeble attempt at distraction, but it didn't work. His mother waved him off as she bustled inside to collect Goodwin. She came creeping back outside moments later, telling them that he had fallen asleep and for the two of them to go ahead without her. Winifred, not a woman to be denied, got her way. With an stale piece of bread shoved into Sofia's hands for the ducks, Cedric and Sofia were ushered to the lakeside path and left to walk.
Sofia was nervous. There was no reason to be. Nothing between her and Cedric had changed since the conversation she shared with his mother. But somehow, having someone beyond Lucinda knowing an inkling of her feelings for her Master, her friend, made the feelings more real than they had been less than an hour before. It was even more significant that the other person who knew happened to be Cedric's mother. And now, Winifred's parting worry was being tossed around in Sofia's mind like a birdie on a badminton court; should she address it with Cedric or leave it unsaid?
The sun was playing beautifully across the lake. Sensing either bread or a weakness for animals, a family of ducks swam towards Sofia once she and Cedric rounded the bend that hid the body of water. Sofia couldn't help but smile as they approached. They quacked out an enthusiastic, albeit distracted, "hello" as she ripped the bread into pieces and tossed it towards them.
"Did you learn what you needed to from my father?" Cedric asked when Sofia handed him half of the heel of bread. He idly ripped it into pieces and threw it out to the ducks with much less adoration than Sofia.
"Yes and no. He didn't know anything I hadn't already found out, but there were still some clues. The Well just appearing one day with no explanation - that sort of solved one mystery of its origins, though it raised even more questions."
"Is there some greater power behind it? How much power does the well actually hold to appear in such a way? Why did it appear here? Etcetera, etcetera."
"Yes, exactly." Sofia was glad for the ducks to serve as an excuse for her smile while enjoying this pleasant repartee with Cedric. The way he could follow her thoughts without the need to pause and think, and expand on her ideas for the better, was something she had never quite found with anyone else. It wasn't a matter of intelligence. It was more a matter of being in effortless sync with another person.
"Any other clues?"
Sofia furrowed her brow. "I think it's odd that your father doesn't remember my grandfather before coming on as Royal Sorcerer. They must have run in similar circles, so that doesn't make sense. That's sort of a clue, too. But could he really just be...losing his faculties?" She tried to be delicate.
Cedric scoffed as he aggressively ripped the heel of bread into duck-bite-sized pieces. "No, he isn't. He's just embarrassed that he can't remember."
"How can you be certain?"
"My father has barely broached adulthood as a sorcerer. Those who use magic, who regularly take advantage of the pool of power within themselves, end up having a much longer lives. Not only that, but those lives are stuffed full of vitality of the spirit, mind, and body. Tell me, Princess, when was the last time you had a cold?"
Sofia turned her head to the side in thought, "I don't know, really. I think it was back when my mother and I were still in the village."
"Exactly. You came to the castle and started your magic training in school and expanded your studies with me soon after. You have an unusually strong talent for magic, for not coming from a magical family. With all your training and natural ability, as long as you continue on with your studies in even an ancillary effort, there's no reason why you shouldn't live to be upwards of two hundred years old."
"I suppose that's part of why you look so young?"
Cedric scoffed again, though it was a half-hearted sound this time. "I'm not young compared to you."
"On the magical or mundane scale? Oh come on, how old are you, anyway?" She teased him, the ducks now completely forgotten. "Fifty?"
"Fifty?! You think I'm fifty years old!?"
Sofia shrugged playfully at his incredulity. "How should I know? You're already bursting with magical vigor. You could even be a hundred years old already and I would have no idea."
"I'm barely thirteen years your senior, Sofia," he said through gritted teeth, though Sofia could swear she could see the echo of a smile.
"Ah," Sofia nodded knowingly. "So, an infant in sorcerer years. But thirteen - that's a powerful, magical number, isn't it?" Her lips curled up into a bold little smirk before she started down the path again, the ducks swimming away now that the bread had been fully distributed.
It was nearly an entire minute later that Sofia heard Cedric move behind her. She could only speculate as to what he was thinking when he appeared beside her and matched her pace, his face a neutral mask. His lack of follow up to her teasing was disheartening. She barely fought back a disappointed sigh before she rolled back her shoulders and decided to tend to the seed Winifred had planted in of her mind.
"Your mother made an interesting comment to me while you were gone." Sofia kept her eyes ahead, focusing on the path.
"Of course she did," Cedric said through a sigh.
"She's worried about you."
"What is it this time? I spend too much time working, I'm unmarried, I don't visit enough?"
"She's worried, I think at the core of it, about the way you covet power."
Sofia felt Cedric grab her shoulder and stop their ambling walk. She looked up at him curiously and was met with concern and intensity.
"Explain."
Sofia squinted her eyes against the sunlight reflecting against the smooth lake's surface, taking a moment to consider her words before she answered.
"I think that she means that you spend so much of your time researching these different artifacts to find, and creatures to defeat for no particular purpose other than the possession of the item or the glory of the creature's defeat. There's some good intention there. You only pursue evil creatures and work to recover objects in the possession of evil people, or you recover things lost to time. And that's good. But you never seem satisfied, starting the next project as soon as you've returned from the last. There's more to life. I think she's worried that you're missing it."
Cedric released Sofia's shoulder and washed his hand over his face, not speaking. She turned her head to try and see his face between his fingers.
"Is she right?"
"It's not as simple as you've made it sound, Sofia. I've tried, but nothing has been able to compete against it. There's some kind of calling, deep within me, that won't be refused. It nearly ran out of control all of those years ago with the Medusa Stones. And so, I've had to pursue other, more worthy tasks in order to keep in control. It's just...it's my life." He shrugged, lifting his hands up helplessly.
The honesty in his response almost startled Sofia. Cedric hadn't withheld or censored his feelings. She had to fight back an urge to jump up and down with glee. She was his confidant, for once.
"Perhaps it isn't something you need to fight," she said in a measured voice that contrasted greatly against her gleeful inner monologue. "Especially if it's as irresistible as you say it is. Maybe you instead need something to...compliment it."
Cedric didn't respond, not verbally. Sofia could feel his eyes on her while she pointedly watched the ducks swim on the lake, trying both to give him privacy for his thoughts and to not inadvertently mar the moment with a nervous blush.
They had had these sort of philosophical discussions in the past, but never on such a personal level. The conversation Sofia had with Winifred had emboldened her, unknowingly preparing her for an exchange with Cedric just like this one. She smiled internally, only her eyes crinkling at the corners. Cedric had even called her 'Sofia' again. The disappointment she felt from Goodwin's lack of information this morning had almost faded in the face of this moment. She was so caught in her revelry that she almost missed it when Cedric said, nearly under his breath,
"Perhaps."
.
.
It was late in the evening when Cedric realized he had forgotten to pick up the enchanted eagle talons from his mother again. He had mentioned them to her earlier in the day but the walk around the lake had taken his mind...elsewhere. After returning to the castle, Sofia had gone down to dinner with her family. Cedric didn't need to tend to the potion for another hour. So with an effort of will and a focus on the threshold of his parent's home, he teleported away.
When he knocked, Cedric was relieved to have his mother open the door. She hugged him as though she hadn't seen him for years instead of hours and dragged him inside.
"Twice in one day, Ceddy? You're making your mother think you enjoy an old woman's company," she cooed. "Sit down, love. Let me get you something to drink."
"Don't bother, Mummy, I can't stay…" he trailed off, giving up on attempting to deter his mother. She conjured two tumblers onto the small table in front of the couch. Cedric was pleasantly surprised, however, to see the glasses fill not with tea or milk but a dark amber liquid instead. He took note of the number of glasses, two and not three, and looked to his mother as she sat down beside him. He shifted his gaze to the glasses and back to his mother, quirking up a questioning eyebrow.
"Your father is out. Cards with his friends. It's just you and I this evening."
Cedric felt a tension release between his shoulders that he didn't realize he had been carrying. Winifred patted his hand and then passed him one of the tumblers, taking one for herself, too.
"So. Tell me about Sofia."
Cedric paused briefly, the glass pressed to his lips, before taking an overly casual sip. It burned down his throat, actual steam pushing out of his nostrils before the burn faded to a comfortable warmth.
"That bad, is it?"
When Cedric looked at her, he anticipated a smug smile across his mother's lips. He wasn't certain if it was more or less concerning to see a warm look of worry from her instead. He sighed and leaned back into the cushions of the couch, idly swirling the firewhiskey.
"I think I have in Sofia something most people spend their whole lives searching for."
His mother leaned forward, putting her hand on his knee and listening intently.
"What's that, love?"
"Someone who would give me the world if I asked. And it terrifies me." Cedric curled his arm back to press the glass against his cheek, grateful for how cool it felt on his skin. His mother didn't say anything, patiently waiting for him to elaborate. It gave him an odd sense of relief as he found himself unusually honest for the second time today. Strangely honest. What were the women in his life doing to him?
"You're right, Mummy. What you told Sofia. Your worry. You're right. I covet power. I worry that Sofia...that she'll just turn into another artifact to me. I can't see how it can turn out any differently. The amulet, her royal position, her position as my apprentice…."
"That would be a justified concern if Sofia was some kind of easily exploited wisp of a girl. You're forgetting that she is her own person. She's strong and intelligent and more than a match for you, love." Winifred patted his knee twice before sitting back in her own seat. "She won't let you use her, Ceddy. You'll have to trust her to not let it happen. But regardless of Sofia, you need to reexamine your priorities."
Cedric scoffed and took another sip of the dark amber liquid, the smoke exiting his nose to accompany the sound of the scoff to dramatic effect.
"This isn't the reasoning of a doddering mother, Ceddy. It's the voice of an experienced practitioner. Of someone who understands that elusive longing inside of you."
"What do you mean?" He couldn't hide the suspicion in his voice.
"Why do you think I pushed you to go after the Amulet of Avalor so many years ago? I saw in you something I recognized within myself. Something I tucked away in order to be with your father. It was an intangible thing that I missed. I saw the chance to engage in it again through you, I'm ashamed to say. I was too proud of you and our similarities to help you find another path. You found a better path on your own, but I worry now that you've gone back down the one I led you to."
"It isn't like that." Cedric was surprised to find himself with his guard down, willingly explaining himself. But he persisted. "These are tasks I pursue to fill the 'need' without hurting anyone. Well...anyone who doesn't deserve it. They're things I do to quell that 'need' that you're talking about. So I can stay focused and away from the...darker path."
She shook her head once. "I don't think you need it, love. I don't think you need these tasks you set for yourself to fight the addiction inside of you."
Cedric threw his hand into the air. "Then what do you suggest, Mother?"
His mother looked at him, a knowing glint in her eye.
"No." Cedric's voice was firm.
"Ceddy-"
"Absolutely not. I can't. I've known her since she was a child, tripping about the castle in nothing but lavender."
"I'm not pushing you to go after her. Just don't exclude her as a possibility."
"It isn't a possibility."
"Because of her position? Her age? Those are flimsy excuses and you know it. I'm certain you have a dozen more, but frankly I don't care. She's the first person I've met who could even begin to be a good match for you."
"You're insane, mummy! Sofia is a bubble of positivity, even her magical strengths speak to her having a core of innocence. I have none of that, practically the opposite! How do you even begin to see a match between us?"
Winifred took a long, slow sip of her own drink, letting the smoke push out of her nose and fade from sight before she spoke, her face obnoxiously neutral.
"You need to trust your instincts, Ceddy."
"My instincts tell me that the best way to keep her happy is to keep her away from me! She'll be nothing but another conquest for me. I don't -" he clenched his jaw, cutting himself off.
"You don't what?" Her voice was calm. A motherly calm. An offensive calm. Cedric refused to reply, pointedly staring down at his glass and swirling the liquid around when his mother supplied, "you don't deserve her?"
Cedric grunted. He could feel her eyes on him and he just knew that they were smug with his inadvertent confession.
The cuckoo clock on the mantle chimed, interrupting Cedric's brooding. A bird the size of large marble popped out of the door and flew freely around the room singing "seven, seven, seven o'clock!" before returning to its clock-house.
"Finish your drink, Ceddy." His mother broke the silence the bird left behind. The smug look Cedric knew was in her eyes had leaked down into her voice. "I know you want to be away before your father comes home."
Cedric did as she bid in silence, barely able to restrain himself from petulantly crossing his arms. His mother walked him to the door a few minutes later, reaching up to cup his face with her hands.
"At some point, and sooner than you think, you will no longer be Sofia's Master and there will be no easy excuse to spend time with her. She'll get married off to some nobleman. Or she'll take on a roll as an ambassador and leave Enchancia. You must think about what you want, Ceddy dear. Think about what's important to you."
He opened his mouth to respond but she cut him off, tapping her finger on his lips.
"Tut tut tut. You need to hurry back. That pocket watch of yours will chime in less than twenty minutes and you need to make your way home." She kissed both of his cheeks, Cedric half-heartedly returning the gesture before she pushed him out the door.
It wasn't until he was back within the confines of his tower that Cedric realized he had forgotten the potion ingredient from his mother. Again. He stomped down the steps into his study. Candles flickered to life with an absent wave of his hand. He collapsed into his chair, pouting as he pulled a book into his lap and opened to where he had last left off. He read the same paragraph approximately eighteen times before he gave up and shut the book, staring instead at the cold ashes in the hearth.
Cedric knew he had a terrible habit of wanting things he couldn't have. He had once come so close to ruling Enchancia and had given it up for the friendship of one girl. One person. His personal sacrifice had cemented a lifelong relationship with Sofia but it had also robbed him of what he knew, deep in his bones, that he deserved: rulership, respect, reverence. Cedric had only considered power and strength as avenues to feel that his life had meaning and purpose. But, he begrudgingly admitted to himself, his mother was more often right than she was wrong. She could be right about this, too. Perhaps there was another way.
Perhaps.
.
.
A/N: Um, hello 5.4k words. You got out of hand. But each scene here needed to be in this chapter. I apologize for the long delay between posting chapters - the holidays really suck the creativity right out of me. But I am so excited to get the ball rolling on this story again! The next chapter is written and already with my beta.
Thank you, as always, for your reads and reviews. Happy Weekend!