Chapter 25
My whole chest squeezes so suddenly and so violently that I let out a croak. I stagger, stumble, drag my feet to her when I want to run. But I can’t…I can’t run. I’m trembling too violently for that.
“Arina?” I whisper.
She doesn’t look my way. Her eyes are vacant and fixed on the window. How long has it been since she’s seen sunlight? Tears stream down my cheeks.
“Sister.” I’ve made it to her bedside. She doesn’t look my way but doesn’t flinch, either. That’s good, right? It must be.
I slowly sink onto the edge of her bed. My hands shake as I hold them back from gripping her. From pulling her to me.
She might not want to be touched—might never want to be touched again.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Those two words are so pathetically small. So I keep talking as if I’ll find some combination of sounds that feels like enough. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. That I let you go alone into the academy. That my actions pulled you into this. That I—”
My voice cracks, and I press a fist into my mouth, glancing away, trying to smother the sobs that claw at my throat. How dare I be the weak one.
“I’m sorry that I left you alone,” I finally finish.
The silence hangs so heavy it causes my joints to ache. Still, she doesn’t look at me. She’s breathing. Alive. Present. Yet still so very far away.
“I thought you were dead…I held what I thought were your bones.” Who had I held, then? One of the other students who disappeared last year? “If I’d known you were alive, I would’ve fought to the ends of the earth.”
I shift closer, tilting my head. She stares out the window. The unfiltered dawn is nearly blinding. Still, she looks right at it.
“But…I will fix it.” My voice drops to a whisper, hands balling into fists so tight that my nails dig into my skin. “I will do whatever it takes to fix this broken world.”
She lets out a small sound—almost like the idea of a sigh. I lean forward more, ready to listen. How I wish she’d just scream at me instead of this.
“Do you hate me?” I ask, barely audible.
Finally, she blinks. Her gaze shifts, ever so slightly. Her chin lowers, like she’s seeing me. Not fully, or clearly, but also not like she sees in me a stranger or a threat.
“I wouldn’t blame you,” I murmur. “I won’t even dare to ask for your forgiveness. But I need you to know I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I’ll come back when I’m able. But this might be the last time you see me as I am.”
“What does that mean?” Gregor asks from the doorway.
I straighten, my attention whipping around. He doesn’t seem utterly shocked by Arina’s state. “She been like this for a while?”
“Woke up in the middle of the night and sat. She ate what I offered her.”
“That’s good.” At least she can begin rebuilding the strength in her body. And maybe it’s a sign that somewhere in there she really does recognize us. That she knows we’re not going to give her something that would harm her.
“What did you mean when you said she won’t be seeing you as you are?” Gregor crosses, looking down at me with a serious expression.
“I’m going to remake myself,” I answer him but still speak to Arina, hoping she hears it. What would I do if she doesn’t trust me the next time she sees me because she doesn’t recognize me?
“How?”
“We’ll start with the face, and then we’ll see how much else we need to do.”
“Clara—”
“It’s going to be the only way to keep her safe,” I say, reminding myself of the same. “Ravin appointed Emilia to look for me because she knew me—because she spent all last year watching me thanks to my proximity to her sister. If I look like myself, even a little, I’ll be a risk to everyone.”
“Fuck.” Gregor runs a hand over his scalp. A thick fuzz has begun to grow. It’s been a while since he could last shave.
“After this, I can do what I please—whatever must be done. It’ll be freeing.” And with the Hierophant on my side, I’ll truly move without fear. No one will know my face, and the one person who could magically sense my identity will not out me. I hope.
He grabs my biceps. “Do you hear yourself? You’re talking about changing everything that makes you, you.”
I don’t flinch, staring up at him with an unwavering gaze. “I am so much more than my skin and bones, and there is nothing I won’t give to accomplish my goals. I’m going to remake the world, Gregor. My body is nothing in comparison.”
Gregor’s fingers unravel slowly. He sees something in my expression that changes his own. Like he’s truly seeing what I’ve become for the first time—untethered, so used to fighting my way out of corners my feet know the steps like a dance.
I force my expression to soften. “Will you look after her while I’m gone?”
“Of course.” He seems almost offended I’d even feel the need to ask.
I give him a weary smile. “Thank you.”
We spend a good portion of the rest of the day planning.
We do it at Arina’s bedside. I step away only to find some food, stocking them up on provisions and showing Gregor the way to the kitchens.
My suspicion that there is still a chef in the academy proves correct, judging from the warmth of the stove and the fresh scraps in the bin when I enter.
But the chef is nowhere to be found an hour after lunch.
I take enough food that I’m sure he’ll take note. But he’ll bring his concerns of strange disappearances from the pantry to Kaelis, no doubt. And Kaelis will smother the worry. He’ll find a way to avoid attracting suspicion. He always does.
After managing to get a bit of sleep, I give one last farewell to Arina and Gregor and return to Kaelis’s apartments.
He’s not in his room, dining area, or study, so I venture into the wing that was mine and find the room I’d last stayed in transformed.
The bed is gone. Vanished magically, no doubt.
A heavy blanket has been laid over the rug, and a large table waits in the center of the room.
Smaller tables have been moved in, with decks of cards spread across them alongside saws and pliers and hammers.
A bracing breath fills my lungs. I stand a bit taller. Kaelis turns from where he stands, assessing his supplies. He takes a second to study me, as if searching for a trace of doubt. Finding none, he gives a nod.
“I sent Rewina away,” he says, anticipating my question. “I didn’t want to risk her hearing anything. And yes, I moved all the furniture myself.”
There’s a tease there about him being a spoiled prince and still moving heavy furniture around, even with the help of magic. But I can’t bring myself to make it. Not when those blades and surgical tools are glinting in the fading light.
“Are you ready for this?” He places a final deck down on a side table.
“I am.” No hesitation.
“I take it you wouldn’t like a Knight of Wands to take an edge off the nerves, then?”
I shake my head, thinking of Arina. “I will be fully of my own mind for this.”
He nods but stares at his deck, as if considering whether he needs one. If that’s indeed the cause of the hesitation, he ultimately decides against it.
“Do you trust me?” he asks softly. Why, suddenly, does it sound like he’s afraid?
“More than I should, clearly.”
“Then forgive me for all that’s to come.” He crosses to me, and his palm rests gently on my cheek.
“I’ve given it some consideration and think we should begin with the face,” I say. “It’s the most important.”
“I was thinking the same.” His thumb drags across my cheek slowly, as if memorizing it for the last time. Finally, he gestures to the table in the center. “Lie down.”
I do so without hesitation. I place myself upon the altar of his magical theory. Of his arrogance that he can remake me. I am an offering to his power.
“At any point, I welcome your input.” He approaches. One last time, his knuckles brush along my jaw. “And know that if it were up to me, if the world were of a different make, I would’ve never changed a thing about you. You are perfect, Clara.”
“And I always will be.”
He smirks slightly and takes in my features one last time with sheer adoration.
Then he destroys them.