“Like yours? It looks nice on you.”
She parts out my hair to leave loose strands in front of my face, barely grazing my cheeks with her fingers. “It’s a traditional take on the Vampire Queen’s bun. This is aesthetic, so I’ll let you keep the loose strands, but those have to go for actual spellcasting.”
I nod to impress the idea that I understand what she means.
“Stop quivering,” she demands.
The front door opens, letting in a font of cold air.
She sighs under her breath but keeps working on my hair.
“Vincenza?” Piero walks around the floor, until he investigates our corner and breaks into laughter.
“You’re typically here sooner,” Mistress Vincenza disdainfully comments.
“Don’t worry, I’m here now. Just keep going while I watch,” he snickers.
She grumbles but keeps working.
“Hi, Piero.” I wave to him.
“Hi back, Vincenza’s apprentice.” He covers his mouth. “Is she treating you well?”
“Okay.”
“Do not indulge him,” she interrupts.
“Don’t listen to her. Indulge me,” he requests.
“I am your mistress; he is not. Do you want to test me?”
“M-maybe a little? Mistress?” I offer.
“Fuck, you two are terrible.” Piero leans against the shelf, cackling. “It reminds me so much of… It’s so nice to see you smile, Vincenza.”
“Is she smiling?” I turn my head up to look, but she grabs my skull and keeps it still.
“Radiantly,“ he replies.
“You talk to her too often, and with far too little academic value,” Mistress Vincenza complains.
I perk my ears. She doessounda bit like she’s smiling, slightly—unwillingly.
“I’m finished. Catarina, could you tend the desk while me and Piero have a discussion in the back?”
“Uh, sure, yeah. Of course, Mistress.”
“Such a wonderful apprentice.” Without turning around to reveal her face, she steps forward, grabs Piero by the scruff of his neck, and drags him away.
I did promise to work, but I’m burning to find out what I look like. So I run up to my room and—Oh, never mind. She left the hand mirror on the circulation desk.
Wow, it’s nice. Maybe I should try something different from hers for variety; but on its own, it really fits the necromancer look. My brown hair isn’t particularly the white or black that’s common for them, but I can dye it if I want to. I don’t. But if I want to.
A man in dark robes enters the parlour. “Hey, is Vincenza here?”
I flail to hide away the mirror and my vane preening. “She’s in the back. What do you need?”
“I wanted to know if she was hosting an event here soon.”
