Chapter 14
Morning finds me still touching my lips. The kiss lingers, but on my tongue it feels . . . Feels . . .
I press a thumb to the corner of my mouth, as if that could make it make sense.
Akilah’s sharp snap of fingers drags me back. She shakes her head; I manage a wobbling 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.”