Chapter 13 Cassiel
Aweek later, the constant ache in my limbs fades to a dull, lingering throb. Thornvale’s relentless battering is clearly working. It’s too early to sense any real change, but what I feel, more than anything, is the possibility of it.
“You look well,” Evander remarks when he visits me during Thornvale’s next day off. “I hear you’ve been training again.”
“I’m surprised you’re not commenting on all the bruises that hideous guard has given me,” I say.
“Thornvale isn’t hideous,” Evander informs me. “Admittedly, I’ve not seen her up close, and I don’t find women attractive, but she’s not hideous.”
I resist the urge to ask exactly what she does look like. Her brief description gave me very little to go on. Her colouring is something, but it doesn’t build nearly enough of the picture I want.
Brown skin, she said—but how brown, how dark, how golden? Is her hair pitch-black, or threaded with warmer undertones? How deep are her eyes?
And why do I even care?
“Will you take dinner with us?” Evander asks.
I freeze. My self-imposed banishment exists for a reason. I tried, after all, to dine with my family after losing my sight, but it was awful—the stumbling around, the rushing to help me, the stilted conversation…
Worse still if I was having a bad day. I didn’t need to see my mother’s face to know how much it hurt her to watch me in pain.
But now…
Now, I’m more than capable of eating unaided. I can navigate a room without making a fool of myself. It might not be so bad.
And I miss being with Runara at least once a day.
Before I lost my sight, I’d barely known a day without her in it since she was born.
I used to sneak out of my own chambers to watch her sleep when she was a baby, partly because I know our father used to watch Evander and me when we were little and I wanted her to have that, and partly because I just liked watching her.
She had these wonderful, chubby little fingers and fat cheeks and tufts of dark hair like mother’s.
I would be the only child who took after my father, but I didn’t have any room to be disappointed the first time I saw her.
I never had room to be anything but awed.
I’ll never watch Runara sleep again, but I can listen to her breathing. I can hear her laugh.
“Tomorrow,” I say, “when Thornvale returns.”
She’s grown quite adept at being helpful without making me feel helpless. And she absolutely wouldn’t tolerate anyone fussing around me.
There’s a smile in Evander’s voice when he responds. “I’ll have them lay out an extra spot.”
He leaves shortly afterwards. He has matters to attend to of great importance.
For the first time, I truly consider if I can be of use to him again.
Maybe not in the field, but behind a desk.
I can still plan, I can still plot. Yes, I can’t read maps or see the position of the enemy on the battlefield, but perhaps there’s still a way…
I’m sure Thornvale could come up with something. Maybe I’ll ask her when she returns.
I send the relief guard outside and take my usual spot on the bed, attempting to get comfortable. But it feels wrong lying down in the middle of the day. My body almost itches, like there’s something under my skin.
Thornvale isn’t very good at staying still, either.
With nothing else to do, I find a space in my room, feel around for obstacles, and start to run through some exercises. It keeps the boredom at bay for a short while, but I soon tire out.
Afterwards, I sit back on the bed, my shirt sticking to my skin, and wipe a hand over my face. The room feels too close without the faint rustle of Thornvale’s movements—the scrape of her boots, the soft clink of her gear.
It’s too quiet.
I lean my head back against the wall and try to listen to the distant sounds of the castle instead: footsteps in the corridor, the murmur of voices, the occasional bark of a dog from the courtyard below. It doesn’t help.
Normally, Thornvale would be pacing, or muttering to herself, or occasionally offering me some tart comment when she thought I was slacking. The thought makes my mouth twitch.
Restless, I force myself to my feet again and cross to the table by the window.
Evander and I have played chess here a thousand times before.
I wonder if Wren plays, too. I’m not sure she’ll have the patience for it.
If she’s never played before, perhaps it’s something we can learn together.
She can learn it for the first time, and I can learn to do it without my eyes.
Without my eyes. I have eyes, of course. They’re still there. They just don’t let me see. I used to touch them in the early days, rub at them like I was trying to blot out a mistake. Work, work, work, please.
But they never did. Pretending that it was always night was the next best thing I could do. It made me think blindness was a thing I could wake up from.
I’m awake now. It’s day, and dark. It will always be dark.
But perhaps I don’t have to live in it.
I get up from the table and pace back and forth, wondering how Wren didn’t go mad that first week with me when I didn’t even speak to her.
I think about calling for someone to bring me a book and ask them to read it to me—something dry and complicated, just to pass the hours—but the thought of sitting still again makes my skin crawl.
A walk is out of the question, of course. I’d consider it if Thornvale was here.
Go on, says her voice. Do it.
Groaning, I give up trying to fight it. I find my cane in the corner where I left it and tap my way carefully out into the corridor.
The guard posted outside inhales sharply. “Ah, Your Highness—”
“At ease,” I tell her. “I’m attempting a walk. Please do not follow me.”
She makes a noise of faint protest, but quickly silences it. I need to do this by myself. Gripping my cane tightly, I turn down the hall, letting instinct and memory guide me.
It’s not the same without Thornvale muttering directions, pointing out hazards before I can trip over them.
I make it as far as the courtyard before I give up, standing still in the breeze, feeling it pull at my hair and clothes. Somewhere across the green, a group of soldiers are sparring. I catch the ring of steel and the low grunt of effort.
Normally, Thornvale would describe the matches to me—who was winning, who was hopeless, who was cheating with dirty tricks she grudgingly admired.
Today, no one does.
I stay there for a long moment, arms crossed, pretending I’m merely enjoying the fresh air. Pretending I’m not waiting for the scrape of boots, the low, familiar voice asking if I’m done brooding yet.
Eventually, I turn back inside.
Tomorrow, I remind myself. Tomorrow she’ll be back.
And the day will go faster.