We came upon a modest town called Alhena. My maps indicated we were still half a day’s flight from Gemini’s royal city, Dioscuri, but this would have to do. The bigger the town, the more likely someone would know of a black rose.
From my initial assessment, Alhena appeared to be a seedy, depressing town that lived amidst constant cloud cover. There didn’t seem like much to do except drink, according to all the taverns I spotted everywhere. It wasn’t a place I wanted to stay long in, parading Cobalt around. Plenty of desperate eyes schemed with thievery as I guided her down the roads to an inn. Pegasi were rare in the northern territories, but any skybeast usually drew attention for they only belonged to members of the royal guard, mercenaries, or someone of great wealth.
Keeping my eyes low and hood up, I secured Cobalt at the inn’s stables on the outskirts of town. I paid the stable hand a hefty amount of local coin, Irons, to ensure no harm came to her. I may or may not have included a personal threat to gouge his eyes out if he tried anything himself. He didn’t know I was a guardian, but my stature and voice were enough to ensure his compliance.
I spread out the contents of my packs atop the creaky floorboards of my borrowed room. Sandalwood incense, crumpled maps for navigation, my leatherbound journal for note keeping, a sack of Gregorios’s stones, and one of his tarot decks. With his permission to use his blessed deck, performing a simple reading would be of no offense to the Astrals.
Darkness befell outside, followed by a light rainstorm. The trickling droplets were welcomed and nostalgic after years of aridity.
Shuffling the tarot deck in my lap, I closed my eyes and asked the cosmos my most pressing question. “Where is the black rose?”
My palm smeared the deck face down. I hovered my hands over the cards. I wouldn’t lower them until it felt right to. Or until my?—
Now.
I picked up the card closest to my outstretched fingers. Flipping it over, I pressed my lips together in frustration. “The Lovers,” I muttered before tossing it aside. “Helpful. Thank you.”
Knowing I wouldn’t find any more answers in this room, I set out to explore what the townsfolk knew about a black rose.
Damp clouds blanketed the streets like fog. I lingered in several taverns and pieced together that Alhena was notable for its diverse fungus production, given its lack of sunlight and constant winds. Many growers carried samples on their person, of which I purchased a strange paste concoction known for ridding a person of their most recent memories.
The forceful seller greedily reached for the Irons resting in my palm as I snapped my fist closed. “What do you know of a black rose?”
“Blackrose?” She scrunched her nose as her eyes narrowed on my hand. “Not a damn thing. I’m no florist. Now give me my Irons!”
I tossed them at her. After having pestered most of the tavern’s crowd, I moved on to the next: a wooden room that reeked of mildew and piss. Spilled ale stuck to the floor. Ameasly lute player sat hunched in the far corner, playing a dismal tune fit for the town.
I ignored the barkeep’s alarmed expression as I asked for water and bread, as I had in every tavern. To sit in places like these and not order anything would draw almost as much attention as keeping my dark green hood up. I didn’t own anything in yellow, Gemini’s color, for wearing the sacred color of another’s territory was seen as a slight to their Astral. The queendom of Taurus’s sacred color was emerald, but all other shades of green were considered neutral. And since it was no longer Gemini’sTempus, most non-sacred colors appeared acceptable.
After the barkeep brought my order, I made my way to a two-seater wooden table near the lute player. All the while I kept my ears perked and sifted through the dozens of conversations taking place across the tavern.
“… wonder who it’ll be, now that they’ve lost their twelfth queen in a row.”
“… a marriage union, even though it’s never been done before.”
“The king of Aries has been vocal about it. But he wields fire, and Scorpio needs water.”
“How would that even work? Scorpio needs an actual royal to marry another.”
It was no surprise that Scorpio was the talk of the realm, though I found it interesting—odd, even—that common people knew of such political discourse. It wouldn’t have surprised me in the slightest if the prideful king of Aries himself spread the rumors of such a union.
I shifted my attention to other topics that didn’t fuel my own frustration.
“… thanks to the Cancer queen’s rains carried by King Zephyr’s windstorms, my fungal crop has yielded more than ever…”
“… the fire kings think they wield the most powerful element, but air can smother out a fire.”
I spent several hours listening to the mundane conversations. Most stemmed around which territory had the best food (Taurus), the best wine (Sagittarius), the most beautiful skylands (a tie between Virgo and Libra, the two territories that bordered either side of the Equator), the best fashion (Leo), the kindest souls (Cancer and Pisces), the fiercest warriors (Aries), and most intelligent scholars (Aquarius and Capricorn).
I never heard anything about a black rose. Nor any signs of the apostai, which I was always on the lookout for.
Returning to the bar counter, I slid another coin to the female server. “Does a black rose mean anything to you?”
She shook her head once. I reined in my short-lived disappointment.
“That broad wouldn’t know,” a male patron beside me barked. The female server flinched as she set down a mug filled to the brim before him. “She’s mostly a man’s fantasy around here.”
I turned to my right to spot a middle-aged man with straggly hair unbound around his frail-looking shoulders. His clothes were tattered and stained. He smelled of desperation and ear wax, no doubt spotting an opportunity before him.
