Chapter 35 Caspia
Thirty-Five
Caspia
A baby boy with rosy cheeks and flaxen hair. A giggle of pure joy. Andreas lifts him toward the sky, eyes crinkling as he smiles up at his son.
…
The Malynn was still docked in the harbor.
For eleven suns, I’d awoken at dawn, hoping that when I stepped onto the balcony, it would be gone. And for eleven suns, its bright white sails had cast a gloom over my mood.
Roslo was beautiful this morning, the air crisp and cool. The clouds had parted enough to let in the sun, and Andreas’s city sparkled like a jewel. I might have actually enjoyed the view if not for that fucking ship.
If I waited long enough, would it float away? Except it couldn’t leave, could it?
Not without me.
The thrum was relentless. As unwelcome as those white sails.
“Fuck.” I pounded a fist on the balcony’s metal railing and spun around, about to storm inside, but instead, I collided with a broad, strong chest.
“Whoa.” Andreas steadied me with an arm around my waist. “Sorry. I thought you heard me.”
“No.” I righted my feet and shifted out of his hold. Then I put an arm’s length between us.
He dropped his chin but not before I saw the flash of regret cross his expression. Andreas had apologized more times than I could count, but this distance between us only seemed to grow.
My doing.
I’d spent eleven suns nursing a wounded heart, mostly alone. I left in the mornings for the castle’s library, where I’d sit at a table in a secluded corner and pore over the books Faxon brought me.
By the time I returned to the house each evening, I was so mentally drained I barely had the energy to ask Kos about his lessons. The moment dinner was finished, I’d come upstairs and collapse in bed.
The only good thing that came from being so exhausted was that my visions had stopped.
For now.
Nothing in the library had proved helpful, and there were just so many books. Maybe if they’d been in my language I could have made faster progress, but as it was, it took time for me to translate and read.
My head ached constantly. My heart was heavier than it had ever been. And beyond the first conversation about his betrothal, Andreas and I hadn’t talked about the paper.
We hadn’t really talked about anything.
Instead, I was avoiding him. Hurting him.
It wasn’t so much the betrothal his mother had arranged. It was the secrets. I’d shared so much with him. The cuts from his silence were still bleeding.
I sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m…upset.”
Last moon’s vision of Andreas with his child, a baby that I knew with every fiber of my being was not mine, was salt on a gushing wound.
The Starling only had daughters.
“Don’t apologize. This is my fault.” He reached for me, his hand cupping my face as his thumb traced my cheek.
I lost his touch too soon as he handed me a folded slip of paper.
“Faxon sent that message this morning. There is someone in the city he believes might be able to help. He’s invited him to the library. When you’re ready, we’ll go together.”
“All right. I’ll get dressed.”
With a nod, he turned on a heel and crossed the bedroom.
I waited until the sound of his footsteps on the stairs faded before I breathed. “Damn.”
Another Calandran expletive I found myself using more often. Except no amount of cursing seemed to accurately convey my mounting frustration.
I’d never felt this angry before. I was mad at Andreas. I was mad at this continent. I was mad at Xandra for leaving me alone. I was mad that I couldn’t read faster. I was mad that it rained so often.
I was mad.
Mostly, I was mad at myself.
These visions had me in a stranglehold. They were a plague, and I was their victim. Ever since I’d started seeing the future, nothing had been the same. My life was forfeit to the images in my head. They’d twisted me into a knot and stolen my free will.
This had to stop.
Before they cost me everything.
Rushing into the dressing room, I traded Andreas’s shirt, the one I slept in each moon, for a navy gown. Then I went downstairs, where Andreas was waiting with an apple—my breakfast. The house was quiet, Kos having already left with his nanny.
“Do you know who we’re meeting?” I asked as I pulled on my boots.
He’d bought me other shoes, five pairs, each sturdier than the slippers I’d ruined. But I’d gone back to wearing my boots, not caring if they were in style with Calandran fashion. They were pieces from home, like my elfalter necklace and Emery’s rings.
“He is a priest and an emissary to the king.” Andreas’s forehead furrowed. “When you see him, do not be frightened of him. The priests are…intimidating. But he will help us if he can.”
Priests. I didn’t know that word. But rather than have him explain, I simply nodded. I’d learn soon enough.
Andreas took my hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss my knuckles. Then he placed the apple in my palm. “Eat. Please. You haven’t been eating enough.”
I was too angry to eat. There was too much on my mind. “I’ll try.”
He moved in close, his hands framing my face as his eyes searched mine. “I don’t know what brought you to me, but I thank the gods for every moment we have together.”
Spoken like a man who knew the end was near.
Spoken like a man who would let me get on that ship.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. “We should go.”
He nodded, then squared his shoulders and straightened his coat. He might not be in a soldier’s uniform, but he looked like he was preparing for battle.
Who was this emissary? Or was Andreas’s tension simply from yet another visit to the castle?
We set out on the road, walking briskly through his neighborhood. For every person we passed, Andreas dipped his chin.
I nibbled on my apple, taking small bites even though my stomach protested, until it was gone. Then I tossed the core in a bin when we reached the castle’s open gates.
The grounds were busier than normal, with visitors milling around manicured lawns, courtyards, and fountains. People who were normally clustered inside must have come outdoors to enjoy the sunshine.
Every head turned our way as we marched for the entrance. Gilded pillars, colorful stained glass windows, and the ever-present Quentin flag greeted us at the top of the sweeping staircase.
The moment we passed the threshold, Andreas’s hand clasped mine. His grip only loosened once we stepped into the library.
The scents of parchment, lilies, and wood filled my nose as we weaved through the atrium. The light streaming through the windows caught the crystals in the chandeliers, scattering rainbows through the room.
Even though it was overwhelming, the sight of all the books still made my breath catch no matter how many times I visited.
Andreas might hate this castle for what had happened with Arick, but even he had to be awed by this beautiful library.
Kos’s familiar giggle echoed from past Faxon’s desk.
And a strange, crawling sensation prickled on my forearms.
I let go of Andreas’s hand, wiping at my wrist.
“What?” he asked.
I lifted a shoulder. “A bug must have crawled up my sleeve.”
Andreas stopped, pushing up my sleeve to inspect my skin, turning my wrist over as he searched for a bite.
“It’s fine.” I waved him off, righting the fabric even though the prickling was still there. I wouldn’t wear this dress again.
The giggle sounded again.
Kos loved his lessons with Faxon, and Faxon adored his new pupil. In the few interactions I’d witnessed, Faxon beamed with pride over the speed with which Kos was learning to read and write.
The bibliosoph’s desk was empty, but we followed the sound of Kos’s laughter around a lofty bookshelf.
Faxon stood on the highest rung of a ladder, shelving books as they floated up to him.
Kos sat on the floor, surrounded by a pile of books. His legs were crossed and his smile wide as he picked up a book and tossed it in the air, only for it to float on an invisible wind to the librarian’s waiting hands.
“Floating books,” I whispered, coming to a stop.
My skin prickled, not only on my arms but over my entire body. The sensation was so sudden and overpowering I grimaced, slowing as Andreas continued forward.
I shook the skirt of my gown as the sensation worsened, like invisible needles and pins were stuck in the fabric. I rubbed at my arms and neck, fighting the imaginary spiders crawling beneath my dress.
Andreas stood behind Kos, smiling as he watched the books float to Faxon. He didn’t seem at all surprised or shocked. When he realized I wasn’t at his side, he came over and held out his hand.
“What is this?” I asked, still scratching at my arms. “Is that Faxon’s doing? Or Kos’s?”
“Neither. Come. Meet the priest I told you about. You’ll understand.”
Except I couldn’t move. Every step was agony, the sharp stinging spreading from my scalp to my toes.
A figure emerged from behind the stacks, passing by Faxon’s ladder. His burgundy robes swished at his bare feet and the grooved nails that covered his toes.
My gasp drew his attention.
Impossible.
Magic.
He set down his hands, and with them, the books floated to the floor.
Faxon climbed down his ladder as Kos hopped to his feet.
I stared, unable to breathe, as the priest walked with an unnatural grace to stand by Andreas. The pain in my body radiated into my bones, and my frame began to tremble. A pounding rhythm beat behind my eyes, like a blacksmith striking his hammer to my skull over and over and over again.
“Brother Nold. This is Caspia.” Andreas swept a hand my way with the introduction.
The priest bowed. He stood taller than Andreas, and even though his robe was loose, it couldn’t hide his bony shoulders or lanky frame.
His skin was a pale white, his lips thin and ashen.
Without hair or eyebrows, his solid greenish-black eyes seemed to bulge from his skeletal face as he stared down the line of his pointed nose.
His fingers were tipped in the same clawlike nails as his feet.
The energy around him crackled against my skin. My sight blurred at the edges, the world spinning too fast. My legs wobbled, and the apple I’d eaten threatened to come up.
“Velvi’os-telfer,” I whispered.
I’d heard rumors of their unique appearance, but few people in Nelfinex ever encountered their race. They’d become all but a myth in Kenn.
And their history a warning for other countries.
Ages ago, they’d lived in a country that bordered Beesa. The fifth country in Kenn. A country that no longer existed. The Beesans had invaded and waged a war against the Velvi’os-telfer, persecuting them for their religion.
After a hundred summers of fighting, the Beesans were victorious. The Velvi’os-telfer had been slaughtered, their homeland stolen. Those who’d survived had fled into hiding. Most lived deep in the wilderness, though the Beesans still hunted their people.
But they must have fled to Calandra, too. When? How many had come here? How had he made those books float?
My head was throbbing so fiercely I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.
“Caspia.” Andreas’s voice sounded muted, like he was at the other end of the library, not at my side.
The stinging on my skin, the agony tearing through my veins, was too much to withstand.
By the grace of the Divine, make it stop.
I toppled forward, the strength in my legs giving out.
Andreas reached to catch me.
So did Brother Nold.
The priest touched me first.
A scream tore from my throat.
And the world went black.