Chapter 21
I keep touching my lips—until, the next morning, Akilah’s sharp snap of fingers drags me back to reality.
She shakes her head, and I wobble up a grin.
“I’m guessing this has something to do with your late-night escapades?” she teases, one brow arched.
“How did you know?”
“You weren’t as sneaky as you thought. I tried to follow you—until I tripped over Florentius in the yard. He landed in a muddy puddle and I’ve never seen anyone so horrified in my entire life.” Her laugh is infectious. “I couldn’t stop giggling, even after he—”
Her story is cut short when an akla arrives, summoning me to Frederica’s study. My heart quivers as I see a letter in her hand, bearing a seal—my father’s seal. I tear the letter open and unfold the brief message. I had sent word right after the first shake, to let my family know I was safe and to inquire about their well-being.
My breath catches as I read: nothing to worry about, but Mother hit her head during the shake.
Panic surges through me.
He didn’t help Lucetta. Would he have helped...?
“I need to go home,” I say urgently.
We leave within the hour. Nicostratus offers to ferry us back to the capital and I’m thankful, beyond thankful. He’s saved me again. He’s always saving me. Perhaps he is that someone I’ve wanted in my life. Someone kind, someone to trust. Yes. This must be what I want.
By late afternoon, I’m rushing up the busy canal bank.
“Cael,” Nicostratus calls, catching up.
“Sorry, I—”
“You’re worried about your mother.”
I nod, unable to speak.
“Go,” he says gently. “Meet me on the bell bridge during the lovelight festival. Six o’clock?”
I gulp and... nod. Then I sprint up the bank to the road.
Akilah struggles to keep pace, and I lose her at the gates. Two of my brothers are in the courtyard. They’re surprised to see me, but I ignore their calls and dash to my mother’s chambers.
The room is dim; draperies block the light. I shut the door quietly and approach her bed. Her face is pale except for a dark bruise on her forehead. I gently push her hair back and check her pulse. She’s been in and out of consciousness, enduring severe headaches.
Tears well up as I begin a medius spell for her head trauma, channelling it into the acupoints along her scalp. “Why did you marry him? Why leave your family, your kingdom, for this ?”
She moans softly.
“Rest. Just rest.”
After ten minutes, her breathing begins to ease.
The door bursts open, and Father storms in. My anger flares, but I control it, finishing the spell.
He yanks me away from Mother, glaring. “She was recovering. She would’ve been fine.”
“She was in pain,” I argue, standing up. “There might’ve been long-term effects if—”
“When will you understand? These spells could kill you, kill us all.”
I’m overwhelmed by memories of River and the people of Castorvra. Those twelve would have died today if... And Mother... she’s my mother . She has always cared for me, given me everything she could. How could I not do the same for her?
I meet Father’s gaze. There’s no need for words. I turn away, kiss Mother’s hand, and walk out, leaving Father staring after me simmering with silent fury.
Akilah has prepared my room with a plate of cold cuts, but I have no appetite. I’m brimming with restless energy. I need to do something.
Mouth covered, I start distilling the cave fungi. After a few hours, I have a vial of spore-laced perfume. A calm washes over me. I whisper to myself, “I can’t be negligent again.”
Akilah bursts in, breathless. “Main gates. No delay.”
The cane again, to teach me a lesson?
I follow her and freeze. The whole household is on their knees in the main courtyard. In front of everyone?
A dozen redcloaks stand in neat lines, and an official in emerald green and black strides down the aisle, holding a scroll.
My gaze swings to Father, kneeling at the head of our family. He gives me a tired, disappointed look.
“Caelus Amuletos,” the official announces.
I scuttle forward, dropping to my knees. My heart pounds. I must find a way to take the blame. I could... pretend Father has disowned me. I’m only here to—
“Accept this royal decree,” the official reads, “Caelus Amuletos, son of Avonis Amuletos, is to be rewarded for his heroic actions.”
I look up in shock, then quickly bow my head again.
“Thirty pieces of gold and permission to attend this year’s examinations, with full privileges. End.”
He hands me the scroll. Trembling, I cradle it to my chest. It’s like leaping off a cliff into a sea of possibilities, with stars twinkling above. My grandfathers and River seem to beam down at me.
This is a dream come true. I can learn, travel, save lives. Maybe one day, I’ll craft new spells to cure even the most stubborn diseases. This is...
The feeling is intoxicating. I laugh, a wave of exhilaration rushing through me. “Thank you,” I say, my voice choked with emotion. “Thank you.”
“Thank the king,” the official replies.
The king? More like Prince Nicostratus.
Father rises, saying nothing, and exits with a final disapproving glance at me. The family disperses, and as the redcloaks march out I spot a familiar scarred aklo at the reins of a sleek carriage.
I dash to my rooms, snatching up the tear-shaped vial.
“What are you doing?” Akilah asks.
“Going to visit Skriniaris Evander. Pretend I’m asleep?”
She grins. “You’re allowed to visit the library now.”
“Even a royal decree won’t change Father’s mind. He didn’t say a word just now.”
She sighs.
“I’ll bring you cake.”
“Chocolate cherry pistachio.”
“You have expensive taste.”
“You can afford it now.”
I sneak through the gates, curiosity and determination clashing within me.
Scarred Aklo spots me and stirs; I stop him announcing me with a finger to my lips. He grimaces and lets me pass. I throw back the cloth hangings and dive onto the plush-cushioned bench in the carriage—Quin doesn’t so much as flinch. He glances up from the book he’s reading, meets my eyes, and returns to his text.
I slouch, folding my arms. “You’re no fun.”
“Just a moment.” He finishes the page he’s on, tucks a marker inside. “Are you headed somewhere? I can drop you off.”
I duck out the curtain and tell Aklo to head to the library. He stares at me vacantly, only picking up the reins when Quin calls out, “As he said.”
I pop back inside and sidle all the way across until my knee is missing Quin’s by only an inch. “Why are you here?”
The carriage starts rolling. “An extraordinary event just unfolded in the palace. The officials were moved by your heroism, but the court was evenly divided—some supported a par-linea entering official training, while others strongly opposed it. Ultimately, two factors swayed their decision.”
I swallow.
“Frederica’s letter of recommendation. And...” Quin’s lips tilt in a subtle, teasing smile as he lets the pause linger. “You saved Official Sinclais’s favourite nephew, Coralus. I believe you’ve earned his unwavering loyalty.”
I blow out a long breath. “So you came to tell me how lucky I am?”
He leans closer, his gaze locking onto mine, the shadows of the carriage deepening the intensity. “I came to see how you’d react.”
I can’t help it. I flush and smile stupidly; so stupidly, my cheeks hurt. I laugh, and quickly rein it in. “I mean, what is it you do in the palace?”
“Bit of everything.” His lips flatten in disappointment. “But I’m not nearly as powerful as I’d like.”
I pat his arm; he’s squeezing the life out of the bench under him. Maybe I could bring Quin to Prince Nicostratus’s attention? Could he put in a good word with the king? “What’s your family name?”
Aklo’s voice cuts into the carriage suddenly and we slow to a halt. “The entrance procession for palace aklas ahead. It’ll be slow going.”
I peek past the curtain and out the lattice window. Neat rows of women holding lanterns, dressed in the violet skirts of the palace with their hair in neat, uniform buns. No other adornment but the pretty lights are all unique, to be set along the canal as they enter the palace.
The woman in the front, she looks like...
The first lines turn a corner, out of sight.
I shake my head. What would Megaera be doing entering the palace as an akla?
When my focus returns to Quin, he’s watching me. “Where were we?”
He murmurs, “The decree. Was it a good idea?”
I close my eyes and this time my smile is soft. “Could not have been better.”
Quin is oddly quiet, and I have the strange sensation he’s watching me again.
I snap my eyes open, and he is. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”
“Not at all. Only...” He stares solidly in my eye. “It’s an upward battle, being par-linea.”
“Par-linea have always had battles. I don’t want to have them, but I must.”
“Have you ever considered other ways to heal?”
“When I can form spells? Isn’t that being irresponsible?”
“Perhaps good can come from being proficient in crude skills?”
Like saving a life when my meridians are sealed. Or when a patient has allergies. “Put aside the fact it’s looked down on—that there’s no way, officially, to educate oneself in those skills. Crude healing is inferior. There’s less guarantee of success. I don’t know I could live with that feeling of uselessness; that uncertainty; that guilt someone may more easily die under my hands.” I shake my head. “I can only be a vitalian. I must be a vitalian.”
After a prolonged stare, like he’s measuring my resolve, he inclines his head. “This is your life’s passion. Burn brightly.”
I squint suspiciously. He seems both encouraging and cautious. It makes something hitch in my stomach. I suppress it. I will be a vitalian .
“Oh”—I fish in my robes and pull out the vial—“I have something for you.”
Quin takes it, slowly inspecting the glass.
“For saving me,” I add.
“You saved me also.”
I wave a dismissive hand. “You can thank me another time.”
Quin glances towards the front of the carriage, his expression flickering between exasperation, disbelief and faint amusement. He clears his throat, and when he looks at me again, there’s a hint of a smile in his eyes. “Is that really necessary?” he murmurs, and... his words land more softly than usual. “I’d say our debt is already settled.”
“My gratitude was a touch lacklustre on the day.”
“A touch?”
I scowl at him. “I can be grateful.” In a low mutter, “No matter my feelings on the recipient.”
Quin barks out a short laugh and swirls the dark bottle. “What is it?”
“Mood-altering spores, personally distilled for—”
Dark eyes become darker. Any hint of curled lips disappears, leaving behind a blank expression that makes me shiver.
I look from him to the bottle and back again. My stomach rises and falls on an abrupt... thought. “It’s not for you , you!”
One brow rises steadily, awaiting explanation.
“For your academy. This is a treasure among dance houses. Not easy to obtain.” Can I sweat any more than this? “Are you not familiar with it?”
“All too familiar.” A shadow crosses his face. “I’ve since banned it at my academy.”
Blood drains from my face and in my panic, I blabber, “This is not potent. One squirt into the air for mild... arousal.”
Quin slams his eyes shut.
Silence thickens around us; I eye the door, contemplating diving out it. What... had I been thinking?
I give a weak, regretful chuckle and reach for the bottle.
Quin shifts it away. “It is, after all, a gift.”
I try to snatch it back.
Left, right, up, down, an expressionless Quin holds it just out of reach.
I lunge for the vial, but Quin shifts it again, a smirk in his eyes deepening with each failed attempt. The carriage jolts, and I fall against him, my palm landing firmly on his chest. His breath hitches, just a little, but enough to send heat rushing to my face. “Falling hard, Cael?”
My fingers glance off the bottom of the bottle—
It tilts and tumbles, and—
Smashes on the wooden floor between our feet.
My eyes widen and I slam my palm over Quin’s nose and mouth, apologising profusely. I won’t let him take so much as a whiff. With one hand, I free a handkerchief. Quin’s tight demands are muffled into oblivion by my hand. I even ignore the nip of his teeth against my palm, and yell for Aklo to halt.
The carriage comes to a jarring stop. Hurriedly, I lift my hand and cover Quin’s nose and mouth with the handkerchief.
My vision blurs; a wave of heat washes through me. I stumble back and pant, “We need to get out of the carriage.”
Quin’s gaze pierces mine from above the cloth. “Not potent, eh?”
“One squirt!” This is... an entire bottle.
A ticklish giggle races through me along with another wave of heat. Air. I need air.
I dive for the exit but a sudden gust washes me back into the carriage. My feet crunch over glass and I fall back onto Quin’s bench. Onto his lap . He oofs at my weight, possibly in pain since I landed on his leg, and his magic momentarily suspends the gale that’s sweeping away the spores in the air.
Frozen, I glance at him. His brows are slightly pushed together on an otherwise calm face; his hands swish and twist elegantly, controlling the wind.
He speaks drily as the wind dissipates. “If you’d let me do this from the start,” his gaze darts down, “you wouldn’t be in such a predicament.”
I leap off him. “I’ll just... find some cold water.”
Quin peeks out the window.
I dash for the exit again, and this time freeze at Quin’s command.
I face him. He’s untying his cloak, removing it. “There are people out there.”
I eye him and the crowds, then him again. “I’d rather people see!”
“The academy is close.”
Without warning, Quin sweeps me onto his lap and whips his cloak over me like a blanket. Using magic to aid his leg, he heaves to his feet, and I can feel the steady thump of his heart where I’m pressed tightly to his chest. “Comfortable?” he asks, voice infuriatingly steady, even as his hand clasps me mere inches from my predicament.
I swallow hard and force my focus anywhere but the warmth seeping from him to me. “Not in the slightest,” I growl, though I hope he can’t hear the pound of my own heart.
Stoic-faced, he alights from the carriage. A sudden wave of embarrassment has me ducking my flushed face against his neck, where others—and he—can’t see it. He carries me swiftly into his academy and orders a bath brought to his private room.
“With ice,” I croak.
“Lots of it,” Quin agrees.
As soon as we’re behind closed doors I leap off him and throw myself into an armchair in the far corner. “Worst gift ever, worst gift ever,” I chant under my breath.
“You’ll have to try again.”
I nod. “Forgive me.”
He leans against a windowsill, grimacing.
The bath arrives and is gradually filled—half water, half ice. A screen is placed between it and the windowed side of the room. I make quick work of undressing and lower myself with a hiss into the cold water. Thirty seconds should be enough.
I wait an extra ten.
When I get out, my clothes have been replaced with clean ones.
The fabric is a silky soft delight on my skin. They fit perfectly. Only my worn boots mar the distinguished look.
I emerge from behind the screen, admiring the light shirt and perfectly fitted leggings. “I could live in these clothes.”
Quin faces the view of the busy street and doesn’t look back. “Keep them.”
“That’s far too generous.”
“Then return them tomorr—”
“Generosity I’ll happily accept!” I say hurriedly.
He turns towards the doors. I follow him to the now-clean carriage, but as we travel, I can’t stop staring at the space where the vial fell. Quin, too, glances at it more than once.
Our gazes clash, and the air crackles between us. His brow lifts in challenge, daring me to speak, and I jerk my gaze away, willing my cheeks to cool. “Can this,” I say quietly, “go with us to our graves?”
Quin laughs dryly. “This is leverage. Why would I give it up so easily?”
I baulk. “You’d use this against me?”
“If it gets me something I want.”
I grasp the edge of the bench, glaring at his serious face. “What do you want?”
He glares back at me. “If you’re choosing to pursue this, pursue it all the way. You must pass the examinations.”
No matter how skilled, only those ranked in the top ten pass. Last year saw impressive talent turned away, talent that will be back this year, determined to place.
I narrow my eyes. “Do you have some sort of bet on me?”
Quin’s lips flatten, and after a moment, he speaks. “Something like that.”
Disappointment streaks through me and I hurriedly force it away. “Do I just have to pass? Or do you need me coming first?”
“I told you, Chiron’s son will take top place. Tenth is all you have to reach.” Quin lifts his eyes to mine. “It’ll be difficult. But you’ll do it.”
I jerk an annoyed finger at him. “Using your leverage like this is a waste.”
A raised brow.
I lean toward him. He doesn’t budge when the gap between us becomes mere inches. I jab his chest. “I don’t need your motivation.” Another jab. Quin captures it in a fist. He pulls me an inch closer, fixing on me, a slow, goading smile.
“Prove it.”