23. The Face of the Enemy
23
The Face of the Enemy
Calliste
The prince’s sleeping chamber was on the opposite end of the same floor: a north-facing, bright room with vivid terracotta-orange walls.
Carved ebony and chestnut horses and chariots, ivory dice, clay-and-string warriors, and an exquisitely carved abacus were scattered about on the tiled, pleasantly cool floor, underneath the high ceiling depicting the midnight sky with Selene crossing the inky planes dotted with gilt stars.
While Calliste stared at the ceiling, breathless, Gaiane bustled about, organizing everything Calliste asked for with incredible speed, bringing in the basin with lukewarm water and towels. She set it beside the prince’s bed, where the king stood with his son in his arms.
“The bedding is fresh, Majesty.” Gaiane peeled back a sheet from the bed. “I didn’t tidy up the toys because—”
“Yes, I know.” The king lowered his son onto the bed, tucking a thin woolen blanket about him, and stroked his hair with a broken expression on his face.
“I cleaned the prince this morning, when Panakeios was downstairs having breakfast. As usual,” Gaiane added. “Old habits die hard. I’ve been changing his nappies and cleaning his scraped knees.”
“Let’s keep it that way.” Calliste smiled at her, perching on the side of the bed.
“Do you want us to leave?” the king asked.
The tension in his voice made her look at him. He was either considerate or worried. “You decide. Right now, I’m only going to examine the prince to see what’s at play.”
He nodded and sank heavily in the armchair two paces away from her.
No more stalling. She took a deep breath, recognizing her own fear. Discovering what she was up against had always been the scariest part. She’d already guessed that whatever kept the prince asleep was unusual.
The fact that he had been asleep for such a long time, his slight temperature, and a pale complexion—none of these symptoms were familiar to her.
“Hello,” she whispered, taking the boy’s hand. “Will you show me what is wrong?” She closed her hand over her pendant, focusing her attention on channeling a fraction of the divine power.
Her pendant lit up again.
Calliste shut her eyes, waiting for the spectral image of the body to form in her mind, showing her the root of the problem.
Without a warning, she had the sensation of falling through the planes of air.
The vision that smothered her senses was so vivid and unusual that she nearly opened her eyes, but she forced herself to keep them closed, gazing inward, focused on keeping the connection.
She was in what seemed to be a void. There was no sky above her, just a canopy of impenetrable mist that smothered the sight.
Soon enough, she spotted silhouettes: scarlet phantoms resembling humans in shape, their outlines blurry and indistinct.
What are they?
They clung on to a beautiful species of tree she had never seen before.
She watched without comprehension, still reeling from the unfamiliar way her emerald pendant worked. Why don’t I see a spectral image of the body but a strange place?
Somehow—she wasn’t certain how—she floated to the closest of the creatures. There were several of them, semi-transparent, like specters. Their appearance was vaguely human, with long bodies and root-like arms and legs. Each carried flecks of green light inside their chest, and they emitted a buzzing sound, like a distant nest of hornets.
That sound made her hackles rise.
Despite their immaterial forms, the phantoms clung on to the tree, as if trying to keep it in place, or climb it.
Glancing up, she saw a luminous orb of light nestled between the branches of the crown, like a trapped star.
Is this what they’re after? Surprised, she stepped forth, drawing the attention of the phantoms.
Their heads snapped to her. They were faceless.
Icy silence clung to the air for just a moment before the phantoms wavered and exploded in her direction, seething, swaying as they swiped to her with speed that defied reason—
“No!” The sensation of falling was real, frightening—but that movement was stopped abruptly by a pair of arms.
She blinked into clarity.
The king held her over the floor. “Calliste.” The alarm in his gaze was more than obvious. “What did you see? What’s wrong with Kalias?”
She struggled to regain her speech, her mind still trapped in the shadowy void crawling with scarlet specters swarming around a magnificent tree with a star in its branches.
This wasn’t an illness. At least, not that she knew of.
Panakeios must have realized this as well. He’d been terse in his reports because he didn’t have a clue of what he was fighting against.
And neither do I. Calliste’s heart froze as everything clicked into place, making frightening sense.
“Calliste?”
She gave a weak shake of her head, falling back on the reserves of her calm.
The king lowered her on the floor and helped her sit up. “What did you see?”
He had the right to know, but not the whole truth. “Something… unusual. If I am to treat it, I’ll have to gather more information before I can give you the answer.”
“Is that all?” he asked, studying her face, uneasy. “Something scared you.”
She took a deep breath. “His condition presented itself to me in an unusual manner, that’s why.” She braced her hand against the edge of the bed to rise.
The king helped her up, but his gaze was dark and questioning. “What do you mean by unusual ?”
Her head swirled with exhaustion. “Usually, I see the part of the body affected by the disease. But this time, I saw the condition itself, though I’m uncertain how to treat it yet. I need a few hours of sleep to restore myself. Don’t worry, the prince won’t get any worse during that time.”
“Will he be stable ?” Venom spilled in his voice.
She didn’t feel like defending Panakaios, but in light of what she’d just learned, his words were justified. “What Panakeios meant is that his condition doesn’t seem to worsen.” She wanted to add something encouraging but bit her tongue and weighed her words with utmost care. “Don’t let me give you false reassurances.”
“Is it something you can win?”
It took all her remaining strength to hide her fear. “I cannot answer that yet.”
For a moment, he looked helpless, a strange sight for a man so powerful. “I know I’m pushing you. I just need to hear some good news.”
“I’ll do what it takes.”
“You have all my resources.”
“All I need is some sleep.”
Gaiane stepped closer. She’d been quiet throughout the whole time, but Calliste had no doubt that she must have understood more than the king had grasped. “You do look exhausted. Let me take you to your chamber.”