Ice Flower
I decided to stay for a while in Iris's room at the mansion.
Had her persuasion actually swayed me? Or was I simply afraid that the words I threw out to keep her at a distance would hurt her now, after everything? Either way, the truth was that her offer—that it was fine if I broke her—had eased something in me. Maybe I had just been glad to seize any excuse that lessened the guilt. Or maybe I simply couldn't stand the thought of going back to a house that would only resurrect memories of Mace.
And perhaps, if I could just scrape past the ending that was barreling toward us, the worst of it might still be avoided.
Iris emptied her dorm room at once and filed for a leave of absence. Thanks to her usual good conduct, the paperwork went through without a hitch. She barred the servants from entering her chambers and devoted nearly every waking hour to nursing me.
My scrapes and muscle aches closed up in less than a day. The fever no longer burned quite so ferociously either.
"A-are you okay…?"
"It's just withdrawal. Don't worry about it."
What truly terrified me wasn't something so trivial. It was the phantom pain I couldn't control, the nightmares—the metaphysical kind of torment. The tremor in my remaining arm and the agony where nothing remained refused to settle. Even when Iris splinted the limb, it made no difference.
After fretting for a long while, she slipped out and returned cradling a box stuffed full of something. One by one she spread the contents across the bed: liquor and tobacco. Not the cheap rot I usually burned and poured down my throat, but a completely different class of goods.
"Ah, you're still not fully recovered, so… t-take it easy with these…."
Cigars—thick ones with gold bands, the sort Douglas used to smoke, I guessed. The bottles were all high-end stock you couldn't even order at a tavern. Among them I spotted a limited handmade wine from a famous vineyard.
"I've never even smoked a cigar. Just go to a corner store and grab me any pack of cigarettes."
Iris immediately picked up a sleek leather-handled cigar cutter and snipped the tip with practiced ease.
"Ow."
"H-huh?"
"Just kidding."
"…?"
Watching the thick end of the cigar shear cleanly off, I felt a twinge of pain from nowhere in particular. Iris held a flame to the cut face and rolled the cigar carefully until it was evenly charred. When she offered it to me, the tip was hot enough to scorch my lips.
"Didn't expect that. You're pretty good at this. Do you smoke too?"
"N-no…. Only when Father asked me to… b-bring them sometimes…."
The first draw of cigar smoke hit far heavier than any cigarette. I was no connoisseur, but between the notes of cork and spice there was a strange sweetness.
"Fuck, that's strong as hell."
"U-uhh…. Is it bad…?"
"It's smokable."
Which was my way of saying a tongue ruined by middling tobacco didn't take to it at all. One of these probably cost as much as dozens of the packs I usually burned through. Caterpillars eat pine needles; Ain smokes cheap leaf—that was simply the natural order of things. Still, the tar and nicotine after so long cleared my head a little. I swallowed and exhaled clouds that looked more like cumulus than haze. Iris had even procured a glass ashtray from somewhere and set it within easy reach.
"A-as for the wine…. Umm…. Just a moment…."
She studied the bottle of wine for a long time, then vanished again. When she returned she carried lemons clearly pilfered from the kitchen and other parcels wrapped in paper. She began mixing something with the wine inside a flask.
"Vin chaud."
"Y-yeah…. You remember…."
The sweet scent gave it away at once. Wine simmered with fruit and sugar. She used to make it for me whenever I ran a fever. Though with the alcohol boiled off, there wouldn't be much of a kick left.
"I-it's hot, so…. Blow on it first…."
"I'm not a kid…."
Steam rose from the heated flask, and with it came a rush of old memories. It tasted of nothing but sweet and sour—hardly wine at all—yet after days of nothing but water and thin soup wetting a dry tongue, it was delicious.
Iris poured the vin chaud into small teacups, sat across from me, and sipped. The smile she had worn the day before, right after hearing the reason I had given her, was nowhere to be found. Maybe it was the leave of absence from the Academy she had attended without issue; her expression stayed subdued the entire time.
"…It's good. Been a long time."
"R-right…? E-even I haven't had it since we were little…."
"Did you steal the wine from Douglas's cellar again this time?"
"S-steal? Father always said I could take some whenever I wanted…."
Quite the double standard. I had once snuck a single mouthful of rum that had been gathering dust, and he beat me until the dust flew on a rainy day. Back then I hadn't really learned to drink yet, so it hadn't even tasted like much. I had simply been curious about the bottle sitting alone in a corner among the glittering stalactites and oak casks of the cellar. It had reminded me a little of myself.
"You're good at potions and vin chaud both. Whether it's herbology, alchemy, or just cooking, you've got a talent. I thought your major was magic."
"I-I took it as a minor…. I've always liked herbs…."
"Come to think of it, you were the honor student. Annoying."
"W-why would you say it like that…."
I had meant it as a joke, but it only seemed to deepen her gloom. Iris's sips slowed; she just fidgeted with the cup. I set the empty flask on the table and spoke.
"You didn't have to take a leave of absence."
"H-huh…?"
"You're making a huge fuss. I already promised I'd go back once my body recovered."
Iris set her cup down as well. Today she seemed determined not to look me in the face. Her gaze stayed fixed on the floor.
"I-it was hard, student council work…. I was going to rest anyway…."
"You're terrible at lying. Funny, since you're so good at everything else."
"……."
The way her lips worked told me she had something she wanted to say. After several furtive glances my way, Iris seemed to steel herself and shot up from her chair.
—Clang.
"E-eh?"
"Whoops."
The teacup by her feet tipped over, and dark red liquid soaked into the carpet. It had splashed her slippers and skirt too; I reached out to wipe it away.
"I-it's fine…."
Iris crouched on the floor and cupped both hands over the stain. A fine flurry of snow began to swirl between her fingers. The blotch shrank little by little until it vanished without a trace. When she withdrew her hands, a small grape-colored shard of ice rested on the carpet—a flower, complete with stem and leaves worked into the petals.
I had grown so used to treating Iris like a living matchstick that I had forgotten. Her magic had always been strongest with ice.
"…You've gotten a lot better."
"I-I've been practicing a lot…."
When we were kids she could barely manage a few crooked leaves. I remembered her handing me pieces she had frozen from spilled water or puddles after rain. Even in the bath together, whenever the water started to cool she would secretly form ice and press it against my neck or back just to make me jump.
Yeah, I admit it. There were a fuckton of good memories. I understood now that the kindness she had shown me hadn't been mere charity. Just as Mace had said, she must have truly cared for me.
Iris picked up the ice flower from the floor and placed it in my hand. The ice was cold enough to sting; the moment it touched skin that had been warm under the blankets, it began to melt from the surface. Before long the water and ice nestled in my palm felt as warm as body heat.
"If you've got something to say, say it now."
"I-it's nothing…. There isn't…."
"With a face like that, fidgeting the whole time? Yeah, right."
"U-uhh…."
"If you don't spit it out in three seconds, I'm never listening. Three, two, one."
"O-okay! I-I'll say it…."
At last Iris decided to put me out of my misery and opened her mouth.
"C-calling me noona…. D-did you really hate it that much…?"
"…That's what you've been moping about?"
"B-but Ain…. Y-you keep calling me 'you'…."
"How old are we supposed to be, still going noona this, noona that? It's kind of ridiculous."
In truth I had changed the form of address on purpose, to start cutting the ties early. The resentment had faded long ago, after the unexpected sides of her I had seen in previous lives. I simply didn't want to invest in a relationship only to have it carved out of my existence all over again. Even if something nameless accumulated through the loops, it would never give me back the sense of loss I had felt.
"T-the reason you changed it…. There's more to it, isn't there…. C-can't you still not tell me that…?"
"Is the war not enough? It changes everything."
War itself never changes. It simply transforms everything under its influence into something irreversible. Well, in my case a pile of other disasters had stacked on top of it to leave me like this.
Iris still didn't look fully convinced. Sometimes I couldn't tell whether she was sharp or completely dense. I chose the next-best option instead.
"Noona."
"Y-yeah…. A-Ain…."
Just being called by that ordinary title made Iris's face bloom with light almost at once. It reminded me of the first time I had called Mace by name, and the thought left a sour taste.
"The vin chaud was good, noona."
I said it while closing my palm over the ice that had already melted completely. No amount of memory-lane walks or gourmet treats with Iris was going to lift my mood. But I figured there was no need to drag down the person sitting with me either.
I helped the bright-faced Iris clear the cups and flask. She tried her hardest to make me lie down again, but the illness had already packed up and left. The cigar I had been nursing had gone out long ago.
"I-I'll come again tonight…. Once the servants have all withdrawn…. We could walk in the garden together…."
"I'm fine in the room. No need to go out."
"I-if you just stay in the room…. It's no different from when you were at your own house…."
That was exactly what I wanted. To hole up in a corner, let time nibble away at me, and disappear like a dandelion seed on the wind. Seeing my curt attitude, Iris pressed her hand to my forehead again.
"Y-your fever's come down a lot, so…. Let's get some air…. Okay…?"
I had thought it before—she kept the strangest sense of distance. She stammered the moment she opened her mouth, yet her hands touched me however they pleased. Once again I took the easy road. I simply nodded without a word, the path that erased the shadow from Iris's face.
Reassured, she left the room looking considerably brighter. Alone again, silence crept back in and settled. Iris had said she would come at night, yet outside the window it was already dark enough to pass for evening. The sound of willow branches striking the glass rang louder than usual in the quiet room.
…Too loud. As if someone were deliberately grabbing the branches and shaking them. As if they wanted whoever was inside to know they were there.
A thick branch whipped hard once, and the nightmare arrived a little early. Bleached white hair caught the sinking sunset and turned gold. Then, like the contents of the cup I had spilled earlier, red eyes glittered above the windowsill.
"Ah, I knew it. You were here, Ain."
It was Giselle.