Unmaking Percy

Part II - III, continued (The Hushing Manor)

"Yes, that's me. And what on earth are you doing here?" 

"We've come to break Armand's curse" Evans said, holding up an appeasing hand, while his other hand remained ready to answer his sword.

Delia turned to Percy and narrowed her eyes into a glare.

"I knew you had a reason to pick that rose" she hissed.

"So did you."

He realized how childish he sounded, though Delia seemed just as ready to continue the exchange with all the tongue-pulling and grimacing required, and he respected her for it. He could not help it; he seemed every time to be unable to rise to the occasion.

"Why wouldn't you want us to break his curse?" Evans asked.

There was no hint of confusion or impatience in his voice: just his own earnest curiosity reaching out to her. She softened at it.

"Please don't tell him that I picked that rose on purpose."

It would be wrong to say she pleaded; her opening "please" had been little more than protocol. It sounded as all voices sounded at dinner tables when someone asked to please pass the salt.

"I'm doing well here, and he is doing well with me. It would be stupid to end that. And for what? I know very well I don't qualify as his muse. This was the only way for me to live comfortably, unmarried, and with enough time for my music. He doesn't need to know that I came here for that. I run his house, make sure he feeds himself, I weather his tempers, humour his whims, listen to his music and help him perfect it. And I want nothing else – truly! His music is not of this world. Do you know how extraordinary it is to be by his side while he creates and struggles?"

Valeria shrugged. Percy knew at once from Delia's indignant expression that it had not been the right reaction.

"I've known plenty of extraordinary people. I found most of them to be very unpleasant" said Valeria. "By which I mean, I found them to have a stick so far up their arse they spewed splinters from their mouths."

Delia froze further into her defensive stance.

"We both get something from this. Me and him. Why should I get nothing just so he can have a true muse, and for the curse to break? It is a stupid curse."

"That's something we can agree on" Evans reacted at once.

Percy turned to him in surprise. This was not Evans' usual diplomatic tone, a reliable oak core, every inch padded with smooth velvet. This stirred, rather than soothed. This had the crackle of rekindled flame.

"That's why I don't want you to break it" she pleaded now, as though Evans' words had thawed her. "He'll need to find someone else for that to happen, someone blank and empty and easy to flatten, who will break the curse by being his all-devoted muse. And I'll be thrown out in an instant."

"He cares for you, I think" Percy said. "Perhaps he would not be so quick to throw you out."

"He cares, yes" she smiled. "But if there's a chance of him getting his gift back by breaking the curse, he will have to take it. Not just for himself, but for the sake of everyone in this city."

"This is ridiculous" Valeria rolled her eyes.

"I understand you don't want to leave" Evans said, his voice returning to softened velvet. "But we have to break the curse, if not for his sake or yours, then for the servants who were turned into objects. What if there was a way to break it without having to find him a muse at all?"