Chapter 20
I lunge back to the bathroom. He didn’t see me, did he? I’ve barely started unlacing my boots when Kaelis appears in the doorway, one arm draped with familiar clothing and the other balancing a platter.
“And here I thought you sent me off so I wouldn’t see you naked.” He settles the clothes on the large ottoman in the center of the closet, sets down the platter, and pauses. For a breath, I think he sees the indents of my footprints in the plush carpet that ends at the threshold of the bathroom.
“I have no shame in front of you.” I try to pull his attention back to me.
“You’ve made that perfectly clear.” He leans against the doorframe of the bathroom, not suspicious in the slightest, watching as I peel away layers of grime-stained fabric.
Despite the banter, his expression hardens, gaze growing serious—murderous, even—as his eyes trace every bruise and every fresh scar.
I pause for a second, our eyes meet, and neither of us says a word. Yet, it feels like a whole conversation occurs. His anger on my behalf. My indifference. His frustration and helplessness in the face of what I’ve endured. My inability to offer him anything to quell that anger.
It’s nothing compared to Arina, I want to say. But I don’t. Instead, I leave the moment there and ease myself into the bathwater.
Tendrils of dirt unspool off me and I can’t stop a sigh of relief. Kaelis lingers in the doorway, as if waiting to see if I’ll kick him out. When I don’t, he enters and pulls over a small stool to the side of the tub.
“May I?” He gestures toward my hair, and I nod without thinking.
His fingers are gentle as they work through the tangled mess, water cascading over my shoulders as he douses the worst of the grime away.
I should protest, should maintain some semblance of independence, but Twenty, it feels good to be doted on.
To have someone caring for me amid my worrying for everyone else.
“Your hair is getting long,” he murmurs.
“That is usually a side effect of time on hair.” I close my eyes as he begins to massage soap into my scalp. “Remember the last time you did this?”
“Often.”
I let out a soft laugh. “Often?”
“More than I care to admit.” His fingers work in slow, careful circles, and I can feel the last of my defenses cracking. Confronted with brutality, I’m as immovable as the mountains that surround Eclipse City. But show me a little tender care, and I crumble. “What made you return to me?”
The slight uncertainty in his voice surprises me. But for all his arrogance, his absolute confidence in most things, I can see in the way he holds himself, presented himself, he genuinely wasn’t sure I’d come back.
“Didn’t you know I would?” I tilt my head back to look at him and catch the way his eyes trace the rivulets of soap down my neck, watching as they drip over my breasts to join the bubbly water that leaves just enough to the imagination. “Weren’t you the one to say I’d ‘never be done’ with you?”
“It’s true. You and I are quite entangled.” His hands still for a moment, and his eyes lose their focus, as if he’s staring at a different place and time altogether. “But I also know you, Clara, and I know there’s always a reason with you. A purpose behind every choice.”
I could lie. Could pretend this is purely about wanting to see him, about missing what we had. But we’ve both played enough games, told enough half-truths. I’m already concealing one treachery from him…If I’m asking for his help, he deserves honesty—at least from here forward.
“I have reason to believe the key ingredient for the powder needed to ink the vessel is here in the academy.”
His hands pause in my hair. “You met with the Worldkeepers.”
It’s not a question. I shift to get a better look at him and find him studying me with that sharp intelligence I’ve always found both attractive and mildly unnerving.
“Fine,” he says when I don’t respond. “Don’t confirm it.
But know that it’s easy for me to piece together.
You disappear into the tunnels, evade the enforcers, manage to pull yourself together—a feat that requires some amount of resources you did not have—and then return with a very specific task that hinges on knowledge you didn’t possess previously…
” He resumes washing my hair, his touch still gentle despite the calculation in his voice.
“The only people who would know about the vessel card beyond my family are the Worldkeepers.”
I just smile, neither confirming nor denying. It’s answer enough. “Will you help me find it?”
“I would defy destiny for you,” he murmurs, and the simple certainty in his voice makes my breath catch.
I grab his wrist, water sloshing as I turn to face him fully. “Thank you.”
His thumb traces across my knuckles. “But if you’re hunting for this information, Clara, we’re going to need to conceal your identity.”
“I don’t think Clara Redwin can be salvaged at this point,” I say dryly. Less than one week ago at the Feast of Cups, I ruined the hope of ever using that name again.
“It won’t be Clara Redwin. It won’t be Clara at all. Your new identity must be completely different and more concealing than ever before.”
I don’t bother suppressing a groan. “I’ve had enough new identities to last a lifetime. Besides, I’m too recognizable to too many people now for a bit of hair dye or a new name to do the trick.” I’ve already thought it through and resigned myself to stealth.
“I’m suggesting a lot more than hair dye.” His expression has turned serious, almost calculating. I’m a challenging problem he’s working through.
“An illusion?” The Seven of Cups can modify one’s appearance in small ways—hair a touch longer, eyes a shade brighter or darker. But it’s not real and usually detectable at close inspection.
“Not an illusion…The only perfect illusion that can trick all the senses and can’t be seen through is made with the Moon. But even that is temporary. We will use magic, along with more practical methods.”
“What do you mean?” A chill runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the cooling bathwater. His tenderness has vanished, and once more I see the prince, the general, the schemer.
“You’re right, hair is simple enough to dye.” His fingers trail through my wet strands almost absently. “But the rest…bones might need to be broken and reset. Skin changed. Magic to redesign the meat beneath the flesh…It will not be easy, or painless.”
I follow his logic with horror—but also with budding fascination. “You’re not suggesting…”
“We’ll need to remake you so completely that not even your closest friends would recognize you.” The way he speaks…I know the idea of reconstructing me from scratch appeals to the side of his genius that borders on madness.
“You must be joking.” I’ve never heard of anyone doing anything like this, ever.
“I see no other way.” His expression is deadly serious now, all traces of earlier warmth gone.
“It was one of our mistakes last time. Ravin probably recognized you after Halazar, even if he couldn’t place exactly where he’d seen you before given the state you were in.
By the time he could, you were under my protection as student and betrothed.
But you’re right that we can’t use that card a second time, and you cannot afford to be recognized again.
Not when you’re Oricalis’s most wanted.”
The implication weighs heavy; I drain the tub and fill it with fresh water as I try to process what he’s suggesting. The idea of deliberately breaking my own bones, of carving away pieces of myself…it’s a curious prospect in theory, yes. But to actually do it?
“I won’t let anyone see me,” I say. “I’ll stay hidden.”
“But what if someone does see?” He leans forward, dark eyes burning.
“All it takes is one person, Clara. Especially with you here, where two-thirds of the student body and the vast majority of staff and faculty recognize you. It’s not a risk I want to take.
I’ve already spent far, far too long thinking I’d lost you forever. ”
The raw emotion in his voice makes my throat tight. For all his calculation, his cold pragmatism, the thought of losing me again clearly terrifies him.
“It’s not your call,” I say softly.
“It’s not,” he agrees. “But think about whether it’s a risk you want to take.”
Even though he doesn’t say it directly, I hear the unspoken words: Think about your sister.
If Ravin finds me, he’ll use me to find her.
And then it’s over for both of us. If I somehow manage to conceal her from him, she’ll be at the mercy of others while I’m Ravin’s captive.
The Starcrossed Club is officially disbanded.
Could I trust Twino and Ren to hide her?
Could I trust Gregor to do what must be done?
The Worldkeepers might come for me, but only because I have knowledge they need, and I’ll be even more indebted.
There’s only one choice to be made, and I know it as well as Kaelis does.
But I can’t bring myself to say it. Not after all I’ve lost—my mother, my name, any hope of a normal life.
But when Arina comes to, she wouldn’t recognize me, and that hits almost like one of Ravin’s kicks to my gut.
I can’t gain something without losing something.
How many pounds of flesh will this world demand of me before I’ve earned my peace?
“I’ll consider it,” I say finally.
“You’ll consider it?” He clearly expected immediate agreement.
“I’m sorry I’m not jumping at the idea of rearranging my face.” I sink deeper into the hot water, letting it wash away the chill of our conversation. “Call me sentimental,” I mutter.
He doesn’t push, but I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He’s already planning, calculating exactly how to remake me into someone else entirely, as if he already knows it’s merely a matter of time until I acquiesce.
The thought should terrify me more than it does.
As Kaelis stands to get a towel, I emerge from the tub feeling more human than I have in days, my skin pink from the heat and finally clean.
“Stay the night,” he says as I move toward the clothes he’s laid out.
I pause and almost say yes. Almost let myself fall back into the comfort of his bed, his arms, the illusion of safety. But then I think of Arina, hollow-eyed and broken, waiting for me in that cold room.
“I can’t,” I say, and the disappointment that flickers across his face fills my chest with a sweet ache. “Not tonight.”
He nods, stepping back to give me space to dress. “Tomorrow, then?”
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” I say, but I make no promises about staying. I consume a sandwich in a few large bites, shoving the rest of the food into the pockets of my clothing.
“Where are you going?” he asks as I move for the secret door.
I glance over my shoulder. “You really think I’ll tell you?”
A soft laugh. “Not in the slightest.”
I descend into the tunnel and wait. I hear him murmuring something under his breath. I’m too far away to make out the words, but the tone is tender. The light shifts from under the crack of the door. I hold my breath, wondering if he’s about to follow.
But he doesn’t.
I wait long enough that the lamps are turned low when I crack the door open again and listen for any signs of movement. I doubt he’s gone to bed, seeing as the man’s a night owl, so I suspect he’s retreated into his office.
With Kaelis none the wiser, I retrieve the card I stashed earlier and make my way back through the academy’s winding passages.
Arina and Gregor are both sleeping—occupying one bed each.
Quietly, I place the food on the table in the middle of the room.
The lack of dust makes me smile. Gregor tidied up while I was gone.
Then I leave again.
There’s something else that’s been weighing on my mind. The drawing Silas had made, the one with the oddly detailed rendering of that abandoned office I’d used to train in. The careful way he’d inked that envelope calls to me.
Muscle memory guides me through familiar corridors. Toppled statues remain on the floor from when I was lifting them—over and over—to rebuild my strength. The desk is still where I’d pushed it underneath the window so I could pull myself up on a well-wrought curtain rod.
And there, on that desk in this abandoned office, exactly as Silas had drawn it, is an envelope I’ve never seen before.