“It’s not even the spruce one.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I mean, it holds up well over time.”

  “I think he’s more concerned about cost. I don’t really blame him.”

  “Did he paint it?”

  “He has to get, like, what, thirty of them? Where’s he gonna find the time to paint them?”

  “I mean, he doesn’t have to, but if he gives it at least a nice little ivory coat or something, it would tie the whole place together.”

  “Why don’t you go over there and paint it? Paint all thirty of them. Build thirty of them.”

  Octavia scoffed. “I’m not building thirty beds. I’m not building a bed. It’s gonna break.”

  Viola smirked. “You have that little self-confidence?”

  Octavia groaned with great exaggeration. “You are wildly underestimating how difficult it is to build furniture. The most I’ve ever built is a table, and the table was this big.”

  She raised her hand slightly higher than the floor for emphasis. Viola’s smirk didn’t budge.

  “It would save him a lot of money if you built him furniture, though. It’s for a good cause. A little charity work wouldn’t kill you.”

  “If I have to build a bed, you’re building it with me,” Octavia hissed. Viola laughed.

  “How far out is he on this, anyway?” she asked in the face of Octavia’s irritation.

  Octavia sighed, flopping backwards onto the sofa dramatically. “Not far. A few weeks, I think. I know he has the actual place paid for. I think he really is just down to furnishing it.”

  “Is there any particular reason he won’t just take some of our furniture?”

  “Yeah, because he’s stubborn,” Octavia grumbled. “He insists on doing everything with his own two hands and pulling all of this off from scratch. I seriously don’t think one bed would kill him to accept.”

  Viola rested her cheek on her palm. “You have to admit, it’s kind of admirable.”

  “And he’s still gotta pay for food,” Octavia continued, counting on her fingers, “and he’s still gotta pay for their clothes, and he’s still gotta pay for…everything else in between. Viola, there’s no way he makes that much money. He’s a freakin’ florist.”

  “He’s been planning this for a really long time, though, hasn't he? He’s smart, you know that. I’m sure he has all of this figured out already. Also, don’t some of them have jobs, too? I doubt he’s the only one who’d be pulling his weight.”

  Once more, Octavia sighed heavily. “He’s gonna burn himself out. I seriously worry about that boy sometimes.”

  Viola’s gentle touch upon her own hand was warm. The soft smile that came with it was equally so. “Listen. If you’re that worried, we can talk this out with him together. We can see if he needs anything, and we can at least remind him that we’re here to help if he needs us.”

  Octavia did what she could to smile in return, resting her fingers atop Viola’s delicately. “If you go, maybe he’ll actually hear you out. Like I said, he’s really stubborn with me.”

  “And won't it be easier to visit? It’s ridiculous trying to find that place.”

  Octavia rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. I usually just go to the flower shop and drive him insane directly. It’s not worth getting lost. I’m still embarrassed I haven’t memorized the way there, at this point.”

  Viola laughed. It was enough to warm Octavia’s heart as much as her hand. She was content to simply indulge in the girl’s smile, for a moment.

  “It’ll…be nice to get to see Theo,” Octavia murmured. “It’s been awhile.”

  Viola tilted her head. “The kid from Tacell, right?”

  “The one I told you about, yeah. Doubt he’s much of a kid anymore, though.”

  “Thirty-one beds, then.”

  “Viola, I don’t think it’s literally thirty, it was just a guess. The number keeps changing, anyway. I hope he realizes he’s gonna have to get an additional bed every time he wants to take another--”

  There was a split second where Octavia vaguely entertained the idea that the person in question was banging on the door, given their extensive conversation. She didn’t particularly want to get up. She groaned.

  “Were you expecting someone?” Octavia asked lazily.

  Viola shook her head. “Not even slightly. Is it--”

  “It’s only, like, two o’clock. He should still be working. The shop doesn’t close until four.”

  Somehow, the banging grew even louder. It had surpassed knocking by a longshot, rapid and mildly obnoxious. Viola raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  Octavia sat up, against her heart’s desire. Letting go of Viola’s hand was a trial, as was actually finding the motivation to leave the salon. The way by which the cushions of Viola’s abode had managed to retain their all-consuming fluff over time was simultaneously a mystery and a miracle. How someone could knock on a door that fast, that long, and that loudly was not only beyond her, but exceedingly aggravating.

  “Oh my God, I’m coming!” she growled.

  She almost didn’t want to actually open it. She let it be, for a moment, content to settle with her hands on her hips in the doorway. Octavia gave the noise another ten straight seconds to die down, ideally. She was incredibly annoyed that it went on at the exact same relentless pace and volume instead. Octavia rolled her eyes. She didn’t open the door nicely.

  “What?” she snapped instinctively, well aware of the sharp edge that came with her greeting.

  His hand was, somehow, still suspended in the air. Her visitor had more or less frozen in place, staring at her wordlessly. She did the same thing right back.

  “What are you…doing here?” Octavia murmured, more curious than irritated.

  Still, he stared blankly. It was uncomfortable, and she cleared her throat. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

  He tore his eyes away from her with a hint of a blush, stuffing his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “Y-You, uh…you let your hair down.”

  It was Octavia’s turn to blush under his scrutiny. She raised several fingers to where a braid had once rested out of habit alone. “Y-Yeah.”

  “When did you…start doing that?”

  “A while ago.”

  Renato smiled softly for her. “I like it.”

  She, too, offered him the same in return. “Thank you.”

  Renato sighed dramatically. “Can’t call you ‘braids’ anymore, I guess. Dunno what I’m supposed to replace that with. I’ll get back to you about it. Bet Vi likes your hair like that, huh?”

  Octavia blushed for a different reason entirely, fidgeting shyly. “I-I…yeah.”

  He grinned a knowing grin. “Oh, so that’s why it’s down.”

  “I-I mean, I took them out for other reasons, too, you know.”

  “Name one.”

  She couldn’t.

  “Why are you here, exactly? Also, did you…walk here?”

  He shrugged. “I mean, yeah. It’s not that far. Listen, I need your help with something.”

  Octavia raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a good sign.”

  “Look, I don’t know who else to go to with this. You were the first person I thought of. It was worth the walk. Can we, like, go somewhere for a bit?”

  She sighed. Leaving the manor on her day off of work wasn’t appealing, given that she’d already planned to spend it calmly and casually. “Where are we going?”

  Renato paused for a moment. “You got anywhere you can think of that’s relatively--actually, do you think Vi would care if we go out back? That could work.”

  “Work for…what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Octavia wasn’t particularly a fan of wherever this interaction was going. She was at least mildly worried as to whatever reaction she was going to get upon dragging him past the salon, too. It wasn’t quite as bad as she’d expected. There was still some hostility.

  “That would explain the knocking,” Viola grumbled.

  Unfazed, Renato gave her a cherry oak-flavored wave. “Good to see ya, Vi.”

  Viola tossed her gaze to Octavia instead. “And he’s here because…”

  Renato threw his arm around Octavia’s shoulders as they walked past the girl. “Needed a turn with the fearless leader. I’ll give her back. Don’t sweat it.”

  “You can’t just…just…come in here!”

  Octavia did, ultimately, have to stifle a laugh on the way to the yard, given the shouting his simple visage had prompted Viola to send echoing down the hallway. Renato took it with absolute calm--or at least something smug that she couldn’t attribute to words. He was wearing a different cologne, for once. Soft mint went well on him, still excessive as it was. Octavia liked it.

  She'd never bothered to actually show him, for how his presence out front alone was typically met with disdain. Octavia had spent five straight years adding to the abundance of flowers that had peppered Viola’s yard, flavoring the serene exterior of the manor with her own biases. With a tiny bit of outside help from a specific florist, she’d managed to cultivate a colorful assortment of azaleas, hibiscuses, and everything in between in a way that had withstood the test of the seasons. It wasn’t exactly muted. Other than that, structurally speaking, she’d done what she could to leave the yard relatively intact from how she’d first found it long ago.

  She’d been contemplating building a bench, despite the perfectly good one that was still more than functional and well-loved on sunny days. Conversely, if it broke, Octavia wasn’t sure how she’d ever find the drive to come out here again. She'd opted against it, ultimately.

  Renato whistled. “God, it’s…colorful.”

  Octavia shrugged timidly. “I missed having a garden at home, so we…made one here. I had a lot more room than usual. I think I overdid it a little.”

  “I like it, though,” he offered. “Maddie would be head over heels if she was here.”

  “How is she, anyway?”

  Renato smiled. “She’s good,” he answered plainly.

  Octavia had somewhat expected more elaboration. Instead, all Renato offered her was his gentle grip as he pulled her along. Somewhere in the midst of her lovingly-crafted garden, he steadied her and pleaded for stillness.

  “Okay, stay there,” he requested.

  Confused, Octavia obliged. He took exactly one step back, still well within relatively close range of her. She didn’t especially mind. She was comfortable enough with him.

  Renato cleared his throat. “Octavia, I, uh…wait, where the hell did we meet again?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You were blowing things up. And then you kissed--”

  “Right, right, forgot,” he interrupted. “Okay. Octavia, when I first met you, I was…alright, maybe this is a bad example, actually. Let me start over.”

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  Octavia stifled a baffled smirk. “Sure.”

  Renato cradled her hand in both of his own, the warm cherry oak soaking up the sunshine and blessing her skin in turn. “Octavia, we have literally killed people together.”

  She recoiled. “Seriously?”

  He did the same. “Okay, that one just kinda slipped out, sorry. Starting over.”

  Octavia rolled her eyes playfully. She didn’t bother fighting the smile that squeezed its way out.

  Renato took a deep breath. “Octavia, we’ve…been through some really insane stuff. Like, seriously insane stuff. We, uh, we…went through all of that together, and it was amazing to have you by my side the whole time. Also, we almost died a lot.”

  “You are really fixated on the death stuff,” she teased.

  He groaned dramatically. “Oh my God, just…I’ll get straight to the point.”

  Octavia watched with immense confusion and surprise alike as Renato, still delicately claiming her hand in his, dropped to one knee in the grass. When he raised his head, the soft eyes he fixed her with were somewhat jarring.

  “Octavia,” he spoke, slowly and gently, “will you marry me?”

  She flushed. “No?”

  He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Okay, you’re supposed to say yes.”

  “I’m not marrying you, Renato,” Octavia deadpanned. “Sorry you’re finding out like this.”

  Renato threw his head back with another exasperated groan. “Oh my God, this always looked so easy.”

  “Viola’s gonna kill you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Tavi, you know I love you, you’re a beautiful girl, you’ve got a great personality. I’m not trying to marry you. Also, don’t tell her, damn. She’ll never let me come back here.”

  Octavia tilted her head. “So, then, why are…”

  Renato reclaimed his hands, exposing Octavia’s own to broad daylight once more. He rose to his feet in full, averting his eyes meekly. “I…needed to practice.”

  Octavia blinked. “For?”

  He was silent. When he met her eyes again, the tiny, shy smile that crawled onto his lips instead set her face ablaze with one far more explosive. She outright lunged into his arms, tackling him in earnest with such force that he nearly stumbled.

  “Oh my God, seriously?” Octavia cried, beaming. “Are you serious?”

  Taken aback as he was by her sudden embrace, Renato still did what he could to return it. “I’m…not entirely sure what I’m doing. I’ve never exactly done this before. I feel like I’ve made her wait long enough.”

  Octavia only hugged him tighter. “I’m so happy for you,” she murmured.

  “I don’t know if she’ll say yes. Don’t get too excited,” he countered half-heartedly.

  Octavia scoffed. “It’s Madrigal. If she says no, the world is coming to an end. You could screw this up in every way possible and she would still say yes. No matter how you do this, she’ll accept. I promise.”

  “You’re…sure?” Renato asked weakly.

  “I’ve never been more confident of anything in my life,” Octavia reassured with much the same smile.

  His own shy smile brightened into something stronger. It suited him far more. Imagining the look on Madrigal’s face was enough to make her heart sing, even hypothetically.

  “So, how many kids are you guys gonna have?” Octavia teased.

  Renato’s blush spread like wildfire, his face absolutely painted a radiant scarlet. "God, Tavi, we’re doing this one step at a time, okay? I’m not even…going down that road mentally yet. Shut it.”

  “Yet?”

  “Shut it!”

  She laughed. She regretted not visiting Minuevera more often. She had half a mind to ask if Renato would let her be present when all of this actually occurred, if not solely for the sake of committing Madrigal’s expression to memory for the rest of her life.

  “She’s…doing okay, you said?” Octavia asked once more.

  Renato nodded. “Yeah, and she works hard as hell. I can’t friggin’ keep up with her. I don’t know how she does it. Never fails to amaze me.”

  Octavia's smile brightened for another reason. “She was like that when we first met her, actually. Do you like it there?”

  “Yeah, except you’re not the only one who keeps making the comment about having freakin’ kids,” he added with a hint more of a blush. “Her parents are driving me insane. Hope they take this whole marriage thing well.”

  “They like you?”

  Renato's face softened. “Yeah. It feels good.”

  Octavia’s heart beamed along with her.

  “Sometimes she…still gets messed up about Lyra,” he said quietly. “Not often, and not as bad as she used to, but there’s been days. I hate seein’ her like that. I’m guessing it’ll take more time.”

  Her beaming heart settled into something that burned. She didn’t enjoy the way her throat tightened, and she didn’t particularly want to do this right now.

  “I’m…sorry,” Octavia could only offer sadly. “I…get it.”

  The look on her face was enough to make Renato backpedal instantly, even if it hadn’t been her intent. He waved his hands frantically. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

  Octavia shook her head. “It’s okay, really.”

  It wasn’t. She was well aware he knew that. She regretted the sorrowful interlude to what had been an enjoyable conversation, and yet the ache in her soul was relentless all the same. It was all she could do to offer Renato a way out of the discomfort she’d dragged him into.

  “Harper…bought a house,” Octavia tried weakly, willing her voice to remain steady.

  It was to her immense relief that he was back to himself almost immediately. “Damn, seriously? Who’s he living with?”

  Octavia couldn’t fight a smirk. “Who do you think?”

  Renato paused in thought for far, far longer than was reasonable. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. “Oh, hell, no. In one house?”

  “It’s big.”

  “One?” he more or less cried.

  “It’s really big.”

  “Look, I don’t care that it was on fire. I saw how big that damn place was. There is no way he’s fitting all of those kids in there,” Renato argued.

  Octavia stifled a laugh. “He’s creative. He’ll find a way.”

  “I mean, I’m proud of him and everything, but God. Like…does he even make enough money to keep up with that?”

  “That’s exactly what I said,” Octavia deadpanned.

  Renato groaned. She smirked. She had half a mind to drag Renato across the city and interrupt the florist in question as a unit. She knew he’d appreciate Octavia’s company. The latter in tow was debatable.

  “Do you want to stay for lunch, or dinner, or…something?” Octavia offered.

  “Would love to. Your girlfriend would kill me,” Renato deadpanned right back.

  “We can go out somewhere.”

  “Would love to. Your girlfriend would kill me,” he repeated.

  “I could always go back with you,” she said. “I miss Madrigal’s cooking, honestly.”

  At that, at least, he grinned. “Can’t blame you one bit. And I get that aaaaall to myself, so you can be as jealous as you want.”

  She was jealous, honestly. Still, Octavia was happy for him. Given the four lost years he had to make up for with her, Renato was doing an excellent job. For as crushed as the Spirited girl--still brilliantly so in every way, with or without Lyra--had been in the wake of Octavia’s guidance, it was somewhat of a relief that the rest of her life was ensured. Madrigal had given enough.

  For another, the deepest depths of an hourglass stolen all too soon, Octavia often mourned. She dwelled on departed seafoam far more than she should’ve, for what better River had deserved. She regretted asking Mina to this day. Even fleeting as the lump in her throat came, it was difficult to ignore for a different reason entirely. Where she so often threw silent prayers to the stars above, she spared one in daylight for a Spirited boy in turn.

  “What were you guys doing, anyway?”

  Octavia had absolutely no intentions of sharing, frankly, lest she possibly incite a cherry-flavored execution. Knowing Viola, she really would run to Minuevera and back.

  “Do you wanna go see Harper later?” she tried, changing the subject in mild desperation.

  If Viola had a problem with it, she said nothing. “Do you?”

  “Possibly.”

  She shrugged. “Open to it. Not too late, though. Maybe we can press him about the bed thing.”

  Octavia wasn’t sure how well he’d take it, in truth. She’d feel bad bothering him about it after work, regardless. Granted, his sleep schedule was always a mess. “Do you think we should throw him, like, a housewarming party, or whatever?”

  “With thirty kids,” Viola finished, her voice thoroughly monotone.

  “It’s not literally a party.”

  “Thirty-one kids,” she corrected.

  “Or at least get everyone to celebrate with him, or…something,” she offered instead.

  “And by everyone, you mean…” Viola prompted, gesturing accordingly for elaboration.

  “Our everyone,” Octavia concluded, somewhat baffled that the question had to be raised at all.

  “All of them.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re gonna get Josiah on a train.”

  Octavia winced.

  “I-I mean, I think he’d do it if it was for Harper,” she murmured, fidgeting uncomfortably on the couch. “Selbright isn’t even that far from here.”

  “I think Harper is literally the last person he’d interact with a train for.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He’s not gonna have to do it again. Ever.”

  Viola smirked, crossing her arms. “Riding a train?”

  “The other thing.”

  Viola only shrugged. “He seriously wasn’t that bad at it. What does his schedule look like, anyway?”

  "Awful," Octavia answered with a sigh. "He takes forever to respond every time I write to him. I don’t know how any of that works, to be fair. How long does it actually take before he’s allowed to start doing all of that stuff on his own?”

  Viola raised her arms in mock defense. “Hey, don’t ask me. I know absolutely nothing about medicine. I thought he’d be done with the learning part by now.”

  Octavia groaned, more so in general annoyance than anything aimed at Viola. “I miss him, though. I miss everyone, really.”

  “You have me. That’s most important," Viola insisted, throwing her arms wide dramatically.

  Octavia grew a smirk of her own. “You’re not the only person in the world that I care about, you know.”

  “Yes I am.”

  She sighed. “You sound like Brava.”

  Viola raised an eyebrow. “I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

  “You really sound like Brava.”

  She laughed. It was a beautiful sound. Octavia did the same. She'd had half a mind to push Viola to actually learn to play a flute the right way, given how used to Silver Brevada in the girl’s hands she’d become. She wondered if Viola would necessarily hate the idea.

  For the heartache that came with laughter, then, it was entirely Octavia’s fault for going down that road in the first place.

  “Are you…alright?”

  It was visible. She regretted that much. Lying was a reflex. “I’m…fine.”

  Viola’s face fell. “No you’re not.”

  “I’m gonna…step out for a bit, okay?”

  “Octavia--”

  She didn’t give Viola the chance. It wasn’t her fault in the slightest, and Octavia lamented how she’d shunned the girl as a result. Still, they were tears she didn’t particularly enjoy sharing. It was a cloud in her head and over her heart that she didn’t particularly want to show. For what remained of her heart, granted, she’d done her best to nurture five kinds of love and yet more still. She’d left him space, right beside Priscilla’s special spot. She liked to imagine it was where Stratos would’ve preferred to be.

  It wasn’t the healthiest choice for her to choose the balcony. It never had been, each and every time the feeling crossed her soul. She could empathize with Madrigal, in one way in particular. She knew their circumstances to be different regardless. There were days by which Octavia’s Heartful preoccupations turned to that which lingered below, and she truly did think of her unleashed miracle often enough. She’d made a thousand mental notes to ask Madrigal to teach her the signs, for how she so badly wished to confide in the one person who’d loved that miracle just the same.

  It was her own miracle, then, that broke her the most. With her hands atop the railing instead of around him, she was empty. The budding stars of the fresh evening above were true, rather than born of his touch and his love in her veins. It was a reflex to stand where she had so many times before, and more so an urge to cast her eyes high. Octavia knew she wouldn’t find Stratos there. It was the only place she could think to look, lest she be forced to sift through her hellish nightmares in search of the only toll that kept her warm--one of two, really.

  She thought to call his name, although she knew it wouldn’t reach. She thought to search for him amongst the newborn stars, although he’d always put them to shame. She often wondered if Priscilla had him back. She’d had the right to him first, to be fair. For what it was worth, Octavia carried their universe of three in her heart, if nowhere else.

  “Octavia?”

  She hadn’t been subtle about it. In truth, she hated that her distress landed upon Viola’s shoulders time after time, even gentle and understanding as the Soulful girl was. It was a close embrace all the way through a Sunday morning. It was companionship in the depths of night when screams followed her up and out of a darkness she'd hoped she’d lost. It was a patient ear when the world was too much, when what had gone unsaid needed so desperately to be spoken. Warmth amidst pain was reciprocated, mildly. It wasn’t enough, and she was aware of that much.

  And here, again, she subjected her love to the same. It hurt.

  “I’m sorry,” Octavia apologized tearfully, struggling to wipe her sorrow on her sleeve. “I-I just…needed a minute.”

  “It’s okay,” Viola said. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not.”

  “It is.”

  Octavia didn’t hate the company. She’d grown to treasure it, even in the depths of suffering and panic. Viola, beneath the same stars, was lovely in a different way than Stratos altogether. She could never hope to compare them. She wouldn’t dare try. When the girl leaned against the railing alongside her, their shoulders touching more than comfortably, Octavia didn’t resist one bit.

  “I…won’t push,” Viola offered quietly. “I’m here if you need me.”

  “It’s the same thing as always,” Octavia conceded. “Nothing new.”

  “Do you wanna talk about it?”

  “I don’t know. It’s still exactly the same.”

  “You already know what I’m gonna say,” Viola murmured.

  “I know. I’m aware. I hope he knew how much I loved him back.”

  She’d witnessed the toll, after all. She knew he’d heard her words in his last moments. She liked to imagine they’d been enough--even for how her heart screamed otherwise each waking moment of her life.

  “Remember why.”

  “I do,” Octavia whispered, just barely low enough to keep her voice from cracking.

  Viola leaned against her shoulder in full, the sweet bow she’d come to adore brushing softly against her cheek. “And every day, I’m thankful to him for what he gave me, too.”

  Octavia fought the urge to giggle. “You tried to kill me.”

  She saw the girl smirk, waving one hand dismissively. “You would’ve been fine.”

  This time, she did giggle. For what it was worth, Stratos had truly left her with yet more love in his place. For his sake, she resolved to cherish it with all that she had left. It wasn't a heart, but a soul he’d preserved for her to adore instead. She doubted he’d mind.

  “I’m…grateful,” Octavia said quietly. “I’m so, so grateful. He led me to you, after all. And he…kept me there.”

  Viola raised her eyes, and the deep sea Octavia had come to treasure washed over her in the most wonderful way. “And you’re never getting away from me. You know that, right?”

  Octavia nodded, doing all she could to find a smile in the midst of her melancholy. “That’s all that I want.”

  Where he’d once filled her veins with suns and starlight, Stratos had gifted her with so much more that rushed through her blood instead. Every dive into the sea she crashed into was a bliss he’d blessed her with, whether in the depths of mysterious dreams or at the cusp of two blurring worlds. Where Priscilla had led, Stratos had followed, and she, too, had trailed close behind. Octavia's universe was perfect, sealed where none could hope to compromise it.

  They were her light, and she was theirs. Maestra or not, that would never change.

  did enjoy the story, consider leaving a rating, or even just dropping a comment to say hi! That, too, would mean a lot to me.

  House of the Rising Sun. His instrument is Royal Orleans (a play on New Orleans and Royal Flush, in terms of gambling), his mother was a tailor, his motif is fire, and his house was burned to the ground. To top it off, he's a wonderful singer!

  does fall, and lands face-up in the process. Sound familiar?

  . A few other killers who earned their tolls this way include Octavia, Renato, Madrigal, Domino, Mina, Faith, and the Ensemble.

  those criteria are met, a Maestro can earn a "proxy kill"--a toll paid on their behalf through the influence of Dissonance or the Muses' existence. Oftentimes, these tolls come in the form of loved ones paying the ultimate price. Sadly, these Maestros include people such as Harper.

  many instances of his guidance that are less than pure and more than deceitful, whether or not Octavia realizes them in the moment. If you've got the time, feel free to give it a shot, and see how much you can pick up on!