Vale Perficientur

"My tears need a minute to find the edges of my face. If you'll please excuse me." The sarcasm stabbed into Juliana’s heart. Antonia glared at her from the pit of the Lyceum as her student fought to hold back tears that had nothing to do with the pain in her fingers. “You’re better than this, again.”

Juliana’s fingers flew across the harp strings again, the reverberations echoing across the empty chamber. Antonia sat in the front row, her presence more daunting than what would come from the full chamber tomorrow. It was hard to tell if her sternness emanated from her cheekbones or if they were a product of it. Her toga hid the worst of times ravages to her beauty, but the hair of once lush black, now given way to gray, tumbled down her back. Juliana dragged on her melody, and Antonaia raised her hand.

“Again.”

Her fingers slid against the harp string. Another palm raised.

“Again.”

By the time Antonia raised her hand the final time, half the torches in the chamber had flickered out.

“Tomorrow, you must be perfect,” Antonia said before storming down the aisle. The Lyceum was her palace, and what she said was obeyed without question.

Juliana undid her bun, dark hair tumbling down the back of her toga. Confident she was alone, she let the tears fall freely. The ache in her fingers was nothing compared to the pit in her stomach. Juliana hated her teacher, but she was right. Win a patron tomorrow, and she never would have to skip a meal again. She would sleep at the Lyceum tonight–going to her hole was too risky.

She closed her eyes.

When she opened them, they stared at her from every seat in the Lyceum; Senators are Tribunes all. Another man filled Antonia’s seat, plump, bald, and accompanied by a partner half his age. That was odd. Antonia never gave up her seat. She would be somewhere, of course, but Juliana was thankful she did not know where. His beady eyes watched Juliana intently, hungrily. She knew what she must do, and her teacher’s disappointing eyes were the only things that would cause her to slip now.

She raised her fingers to the strings as silence descended upon the grand theater. Finger by finger, they danced across the sinew, starting in a slow lament Juliana poured herself into before crescendoing into a galloping epic to make the Imperators of old weep. She played and played until nothing else mattered but the next note. Desperation fueled her masterpiece. Around her, the crowd blurred. She would not fail now. Note after note stormed the field of her masterpiece, routing any trace of doubt in her mind. Upon their galloping melody, Juliana rode to her freedom. She was no longer a little girl. She would no longer be under Antonia’s thumb.

Juliana held the final note…waiting.

Silence.

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

Three heartbeats.

Four...

The Lyceum exploded. Row after row stood and applauded. Some threw olive branches onto the stage. Never before had Juliana heard such an ovation. She rose and bowed, eyes closed so they would not see the tears of relief she fought to hold back. Earning a patron would be assured. Juliana closed her eyes.

She sat in the Lyceum’s antechamber beside a table laden with foreign fruits and flagons of wine. It took all of her strength not to gorge herself on them. Antonia always warned her to watch for the hooks attached deep within a gift apple–some fishing reference Juliana never understood. The small antechamber served as her bed chamber any night she could get away with it. Beyond the only four walls where she felt safe, the sounds of the crowd still echoed.

“Ah, sweet child, what a performance!”

The door swung open without warning, and the man from the front row entered. “You have not eaten of my fruit? Is it not to your liking? But where are my manners? I am Nero, and you are a specimen such as I’ve never seen before!”

“Thank you,” Juliana said meekly. Up close, she could see his toga was the finest she had ever seen, sown with thread that seemed made of gold. Around his wrist, he wore golden gauntlets, and his fig leaf necklace was of the finest silver. She had no idea what to say to such a man. Juliana knew of him, of course. His wealth was legendary. Patronage from Nero meant a life of luxury with the highest of society members.

“I’ve put in an offer for your patronage.”

Her mind went blank. It was everything she had ever dreamed. Juliana fought the urge to break down right there. Instead, she took one of his apples. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

“There are others, but I’m not worried,” he continued. “You’ll enjoy the summer villa, on the water and private. It’s the perfect stage, and I have no doubt you’ll be…spectacular. Do you accept?”

Juliana chewed, willing the fibers down so she could say the words, escape this place.

The door burst open again. No, please, no.

Antonia filled the doorway, her stern cheeks turning a deep red with spite.

Nero turned, and his face went blank as slate. “My dear Antonia, how good it is to see you.”

“Your offer is denied. She deserves better than your ilk.”

The words froze Juliana’s blood. She held the apple in her hand, and only fear of her teacher stopped her from throwing it at her.

“You have no right. My offer is fair,” Nero said, echoing Juliana’s thoughts. She was done being under Antonia's thumb. She was done worrying about where she would sleep that night. Juliana opened her mouth to add her voice to the chorus.

Antonia’s look forced it closed. Her face was still red with rage, but there was something else, something Juliana had never seen before. In the very small corner of her terrifying eyes, there was the last thing Juliana expected from the woman, who was so cold and stern that her simple glance chased lesser talents from the Lyceum.

It was fear.

“You are not welcome here. I should have known you were behind my calling away before the performance of my star pupil. One more word and I will do what I should have done all those years ago.”

Nero opened his mouth to respond, but Antonia stepped into the antechamber, drawing herself up to her full and considerable height.

He departed. With one hand on the door frame, Nero paused. “You know, you used to be much prettier. Such a shame. But don’t worry, I’ll never forget your time at the villa.”

Silence followed his departure.

“You will sleep here tonight,” Antonia said, slamming the door and locking it without another word. Juliana threw the apple at it. It was done then. She would be trapped here forever.

She closed her eyes.

Juliana walked down the aisle of the Lyceum. She felt the years in her joints as she walked to the seat near the front.

“This place is reserved,” she said kindly to the man sitting where he did not belong. At first, incredulity painted his face, only to fall away as he realized to whom he spoke. This hall had become her castle, but tonight was not about her. Years had gone into tonight, her greatest performance yet. Still, she felt unprepared, but there was little time left.

The truth came out eventually, as it always did. Eventually, the victims could not be ignored. Had it not been for her, Juliana was sure the stories she heard would shatter her heart.

Had it not been for her.

It was time.

Julian took her place on stage before her harp. She had lost count of how many assembled with her—so many years of searching, all for this moment. The heiress of the Lyceum placed her fingers upon the sinew as they escorted her down the aisle.

Age ravaged her, but Antonia wore the same stern expression she always had. While blindness took its toll, her ears were as sharp as ever.

Juliana strummed a single, triumphant note, igniting the chorus behind her.

Despite her place on stage, Juliana could see the tears roll down their old teacher’s face as they all performed for her one last time.

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A/N

This was originally ideated in response to Munson's Microfiction challenge. Alas, my brain screwed up the requirements, so while this is not entered into that challenge, you should still check it out!

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