Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LYRA
Light crawls into my fluttering eyelids, clobbering me upside the head with the force of a thrown stone.
I groan in pain, draping my arm over my face.
The door swings open, and Neilina’s voice fills the room. “Neilina to the rescue,” she declares in half-song, her sweet melody like a shrill shriek to my senses.
I wince at the piercing sound. “Please,” I whine, peaking out beneath my arm and attempting to squint an eye open. “Make it stop.”
She plops herself down on the edge of the bed, extending a small pewter mug to me. “As it so happens,” she says, her cheery tone nauseating, “I am here to do exactly that.”
I drop my arm from my face and shift a fraction upright. “What is it?”
“A tonic,” she chirps.
“What kind of tonic?”
“The kind of tonic that’s going to help ease the pounding in your head and ringing in your ears. But if you don’t want it because you are too scared of—”
I don’t even let her finish her sentence before I pry the mug from her hands and chug.
I’m that desperate.
The rich taste of peppermint coats my tongue, and I find myself inspecting the empty cup, looking for any signs of what I just drank.
Finding absolutely nothing, I inhale deeply, the air now coated with a minty taste, and fall back onto the pillows.
As I wait for the effects to kick in while staring blankly at the canopy swaying subtly above my head, a wrinkle forms in my brow as I try to recall the details of last night.
Of course, I remember the woman and her eerie words.
I remember entering the Astral Chamber and drinking the elixir from the goblet.
But everything after feels…distant. I know something exists in my mind, but the moment I reach for it, it dodges me in a cruel game of hide and seek.
Still, I feel the memories humming in the seams, remaining just beyond my grasp, dancing on the tip of my tongue.
“Annnd that should just about do it,” Neilina says, getting up from the bed and watching me with mirth in her eyes.
I blink, tearing free of my daze. She’s right.
The throbbing in my head has stopped, and my body doesn’t feel like it’s carrying boulders any longer.
I sit up, pushing hair back from my face and pressing my palm against my forehead.
“Whoever made that tonic would have made one hell of a Gardner. Who should I thank for their services?”
“Master.”
“Casimir made me the tonic? Why?”
She shrugs. “Probably because he knew you were going to need it. I didn’t see the two of you long before you both fell asleep, but you looked pretty out of it from what I did—”
I lift a hand to stop her mid-sentence. “Woah, woah, woah. Wait a second. What do you mean, ‘before you both fell asleep’?”
“I mean when Master carried you into your chambers, you were swimming in la la land. I was instructed to go fetch some cool water and a rag to help bring down your fever. After I returned, you were sound asleep. He still aided you, though, and once you were in the clear, he asked me for a favor, and by the time I returned from that, the two of you were both sound asleep in your bed.” She smiles.
“Between you and me, the personal guards like to talk amongst themselves, and they say Master doesn’t sleep well.
That he is often up through the nights.” She huffs an amused laugh, turning away from me and heading toward the wardrobe housing all the clothes provided to me.
“You should have seen him lying next to you; he was the epitome of sleep.”
My brows scrunch together, locked memories pressing more sharply against my mind. “We weren’t…. He wasn’t….”
She glances back at me, a knowingness in her expression.
“He was on his side of the bed, as you were on yours. Both fully clothed, neither touching.” She returns her attention to sorting through the wardrobe, clearly looking for something.
“Though it was sort of cute, the way you were facing him in your sleep, practically wedged into his side. Even unconscious, it was like his body attempted to morph around you.”
“I—”
All at once, the memories slam against me. The different visions of Casimir I saw in the Veil. The disorienting, severely debilitating effects I felt when coming back into my body. Being carried into my room. Asking him to stay with me. Telling him his face could never be considered ugly.
My cheeks heat with embarrassment at that particular memory.
I groan, once again falling backward onto the bed as my reeling mind spins and spins.
“I am not leaving this bed today,” I mutter like a pouting child, feeling unable to face Casimir yet.
I need to let the embarrassment wear off a little first.
“Great,” Neilina replies. She spins around, putting the wardrobe to her back and facing me, a wad of clothes clutched in her fist. She chucks them at me, and they fall perfectly into my lap. One glance down at them has me groaning again.
Training clothes.
Neilina braces her hand on her hip and smirks. “You have training with Master in precisely one hour.”
As instructed, I trudge into the flower-filled courtyard where Casimir and I have been training exactly one hour later.
He sits on a stone bench in front of a rose bush, his ankle resting on his knee as a crisp leather journal rests in his lap.
His hair falls freely into his face as he scribbles words on the pages—a rare sight, seeing as he normally has it tied back in a leather band.
He is wearing a breezy white shirt made from a material I’m not sure I’m familiar with.
The neckline has a deep v-shape that exposes the panes of his chest, and the hem of it rests just above the waistband of his black, similarly stitched trousers.
I make a mental note to ask him what material his clothes are made from later—it looks wonderfully comfortable.
Still. He looks so….peaceful. At ease, even. Like he was able to lock the demons whispering in his ear away in a cage, if only temporarily. Freedom looks good on him. It makes him look young and alive.
I roll my shoulders back and head straight toward him. As I approach, Casimir glances up from his writing and offers me a small grin. “Good afternoon.”
“It would be a better one if I was allowed to stay in bed.” I stop short a few paces away and fold my arms across my chest. I nod in the direction of his journal, my brow lifted. “I would have thought you had your fill of journaling.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, shutting the journal gently and unfolding his legs. “The practice rather grew on me,” he offers by way of explanation. “I never really did stop writing.”
“I’m sure those pages are riveting,” I grumble.
He rises from the bench and flicks his wrist, a half-formed smirk tipping his lips. A tiny silver and blue portal opens, and Casimir places the journal through it, retracting his hand after. The swirling colors disappear as the portal blinks from existence, the journal with it.
“Nifty.”
“Convenient is more like it,” he counters, stepping toward me. “How are you feeling?”
“As good as one can after entering the Veil, I’d imagine.” I rake my fingers through my hair, reaching for a phantom length that no longer exists. “I see now why my mother always had me stay with the Nightenjoys on the nights she knew she was going to enter.”
“You handled it admirably,” he offers, his soft words sounding just a tad more jubilant than usual. “Do you remember the visions the Veil showed you?”
I meet his eyes. “I do.”
“Good,” he says with the dip of his chin. “You can tell me about them on the way.”
My brows wrinkle together. “On the way to where?”
“Our training location for the day.” At my pointedly inquisitive expression, he elaborates. “I promised to provide you with more answers today.” He pulls his gaze from mine, looking out at something in the distance and making to stride toward it. “I intend to keep that promise.”
“I’ve heard that before,” I mutter under my breath.
I turn on my heels and follow him.
Two-hundred stairs in, and I am gasping for air—sweat coating my body like morning dew coats grass—convinced I will keel over like overworked cattle at any moment.
To get here, Casimir guided me over bridges, along a stream, and through beautiful paths lined by fruit-filled trees, until we reached the base of a glittering building, towering high in the clouds.
Along the way, I told him the details of what I saw in the Veil.
Described the people and events that were brought to life through the trails of colored fog and mist. He remained silent the entire time, only giving his emotions away once, when the vision of Sitara caring for him was mentioned.
His eyes softened and his shoulders slackened, his mouth teetering somewhere between a smile and a frown.
Whatever happened between them, he loved her deeply. That much I am sure of.
I heave in a stinging sigh and pry my eyes up from the staggering white limestone stairs to glare at Casimir’s backside. “Couldn’t you have just brought us here using the aether-magic you so clearly can wield?”
“Where’s the victory in that?” he throws over his shoulder. His voice is annoyingly steady. “Besides, this is the first part of today’s training.”
“Conditioning?” I scowl. “Seriously?”
“Not quite.”
After what feels like an eternity longer, my feet finally land on flat ground.
I hunch over, bracing my hands on my knees as I attempt to soothe the burning ache inside my chest, making yet another mental note to thank Draven for his training.
I know my lungs and muscles would be a hell of a lot more angry at me right now without it.
When the heat is finally sated, I stand upright once more, attempting to take in my surroundings.
Yet before I get the chance to glimpse a single thing, a stream of water splashes me straight in the face, cooling the warmth from my skin but fanning the flames inside me. “What the hell was that for?”