Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
LYRA
“You never did tell me what your meeting was about in Talderine.” My tongue hooks up at the corner of my mouth as I pour three drops of a yellow liquid into a cylindrical tube filled with Sartooth roots—an exceptionally useful plant, I’ve come to find. One which is exclusive to Casimir’s home.
From behind me, perched up at his own worktable in the converted greenhouse—now used as a mad scientist lab, for all intents and purposes—Casimir answers, “I was propositioned.”
“Propositioned? By who?”
“Someone who should not be taken lightly.” He sounds vexed as he says it, leading me to believe that whatever meeting transpired, it was not a good one.
Or perhaps it’s better to say it was not a meeting particularly in Casimir’s favor, something I’m sure he has grown unaccustomed to over his centuries of life.
“Okay,” I drawl while holding up my tube and squinting to see if the drops will react to the extracted roots. Spoiler: they do not. “And what did this mystery person whose identity you still won’t share with me want?”
“You.”
My spine stiffens, and I gently set down the reactionless tonic. “What do you mean ‘me?’” I manage to stave off my echoing thought, preventing myself from sounding like a child. Why does it have to be me someone wants again?
“I hope you are not actually expecting me to dignify that question with an answer.”
I scowl, pushing my tongue into my cheek. “Alright, new question, then.” I spin around in my chair to face him. “Why are you just now telling me?”
With his back still to me, he shrugs. “Because it didn’t matter. I refused the offer.”
“And what did they offer you, exactly?”
Casimir goes very still, glancing at me from over his shoulder. “If I left you behind at the masquerade ball with them, they would provide me with information on someone.”
“And that information was…?”
He finally turns away from his work and faces me. “Feeling particularly chatty this afternoon, are we?”
I flash him a smile, choosing not to respond in the hopes it’ll give me a better chance of actually getting an answer out of him.
I mean really. I have never met someone so unwilling to answer a few simple questions before.
Though I suppose my questions when it comes to him are rarely simple.
Nor are there only a few of them. Still. Those problems are his fault. Not mine.
Casimir observes me for a good while, eventually huffing a conciliatory laugh. “There was a woman I loved before I became what I am.”
“Sitara,” I point out, not knowing why he’s trying to be discreet about her identity now, given all that I know and have learned from the Veil.
His throat bobs. “Yes,” he says stiffly. “In the throes of the Great War, she was also cursed—stolen from me by a god.”
I’d hardly call being swooned over by the god of the stars a curse—with being gifted the power of the stars and the Great River of Light and all.
But I choose to keep that thought to myself, not wanting to be insensitive.
Because if one thing is glaringly apparent right now, it’s that he really did love her.
Casimir continues, eyes glued to the floor.
“The true cruelty of my immortality is I was meant to live for eternity knowing she was not simply dead, but elsewhere. Accessible, yet not. It is perhaps the cruelest component of the curse placed on me by petty gods: we are meant to never find each other again. Not in life. Not in death. Never.”
I feel a sharp pang of sadness in my chest at his admission. “You say it’s a curse, so is there not a way to break it?”
He laughs, the sound a dangerous type of hollow. “There is,” he answers. “I must hear her song once more. The day I do, my heart will finally resume beating, and my mortality will return.”
I chew at my cheek as I study him.
He looks so…tired. Broken and worn. Seeing him like this, it makes me wonder how I ever feared him so viscerally? Right now, he doesn’t look capable of harming a fly.
He killed Griff.
My mind screams the sentence at me, not allowing me to forget. I suck in a sharp, loaded breath at the debilitating weight of it.
“So was that the final straw that made you change course for such a destructive path? That caused you to kill and loathe humanity as you do? Because she fell in love with Astralis and didn’t love you back?”
There are different types of quiet. Contemplative, comfortable, assessing. This quiet is sharp and electric. It radiates with anger, punctuated by a silent warning which sends one’s insides flaring in alarm.
Casimir slowly rises and wordlessly heads for the door.
I find myself watching him with a furrow in my brow when he again turns around, his movements stiff.
“You want to know why I hate humanity? It is because they love to spin a narrative. And once that narrative has caught fire, nobody—no one—takes the time to understand what lit the flame. If perhaps, the fire should have never burned in the first place.”
Then he leaves.
And I am left to wonder what the hell just happened.
When I enter my chambers that night, there is a fresh pile of clothes stacked neatly on my bed. Curious, I close the door behind me and beeline straight for it. It is a collection of shirts, pants, undergarments—even some new training clothes.
Nearly all of it is made with Spin Silk.
I graze my fingers over the fine seams, still marveling at how unbelievably soft the material is. I’m sorting through the items, a swell of gratitude in my chest, when I finally notice the small slip of parchment resting directly beside the pile.
Lyra,
Here is your own set of clothes made exclusively from Spin Silk. Neilina provided me with your updated measurements so they should fit you well.
Hopefully now there is no need to commit any unspeakable crimes to acquire them.
Enjoy,
Casimir x
I’m staring at the parchment when a knock sounds at my door.
“It’s open,” I call out, still staring at the cursive words.
The wood creaks, and Neilina’s head pops through the threshold. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
She strides in, her stark-white hair adorned with braids while streaks of kohl and purple eyeshadow line her gray eyes. Her clothes look nicer than her usual attire.
I grin crookedly. “Are you going on a date?”
She snorts, swatting at the air. “Don’t be ridiculous. Tonight we are celebrating Rashtah.”
“What’s that?”
“The day we found our paradise. Our home. It’s a beautiful celebration. Lots of singing, dancing, eating and drinking. It’s a fun time.”
“Sounds lovely.”
She steps closer to me, her grin growing.
“I’m glad you think so, because you’ll be joining me.
Everyone will be there, so you are no exception.
Master was supposed to tell you about it while you two were working in the greenhouse, but seeing as you’re not ready, I’m guessing he forgot to mention it? ”
I laugh, glancing down at the slip of parchment once more. I set it down on the bed. “I don’t think he ‘forgot’ to do anything.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
I shoot her a dagger look, and she lifts her palms, her smile still pressed into her lips.
“I was wondering what instigated his foul mood at dinner. Now I have my answer. Though, it’s no matter.
Master loves Rashtah. Between you and me, it’s the only time I ever see him let loose a little.
Whatever tensions currently exist between you two will be forgotten. ”
The Spin Silk suddenly rests heavier between my fingertips.
Neilina notices the fabric clutched within my grip.
“Oh, good! Brynna finished in time for tonight. Master will be thrilled. He was very adamant she got it done as quickly as she could for you. I wasn’t sure if she’d actually be able to do it given her short notice, but magic is a wonder, isn’t it?
” She inspects the clothes, isolating one item in particular. “You should wear this.”
I lift my brows in quiet challenge.
“What?” she drawls. “It’s pretty. And the color suits you.”
I sigh. “Fine. Give it here.”
With Neilina at the helm, it feels as though I blinked and was ready.
She made quick work of my hair, drawing half of it up, interweaving small braids on the side.
She chided me until I let her line my eyes with a silver-colored substance I’d never seen before, and then she scolded me when I took too long to put on the backless, light gray dress, decorated with a floral pattern at its hem, rising up into the waist.
She made me feel pretty. Confident.
Now, as she and I approach the staggeringly large bonfire at the center of a beautiful spread of open land ensconced between strange-looking trees crowned with fan-shaped leaves, all I feel is nauseous.
Any time I have ever seen a fire this large, it has always ended in death. My mother. Kiran’s wall of flames, where Meiji’s life was stolen from him. Even here, where Casimir created a pyre for all the souls lost, and I officially got to offer my mother her proper goodbye.
Gods, I hate the flames.
Yet as I listen to the merriment all around, the strings of humming fiddles and clapping and chirps of cheery tunes, I swallow down the acid threatening to burn my throat.
I remind myself not of the tragedies that befell me and others like Meiji, but instead the circumstances surrounding those tragedies.
Who—what—caused them to occur. The people I’m looking at here?
They didn’t ask for the hand they were dealt.
They couldn’t choose the circumstances of their birth.
All they can do is make the best of the life they were given.
This is them making the best of it.
You do not let this break you. You do not let them win.
I take a steadying breath, allowing myself to feel and embrace all the many emotions clamoring around inside me. I can still grieve for what I lost, but I can also choose to respect what’s been taken from them as well. Both tragedies can be true. Can exist at once, neither less than the other.
Neilina reaches for my arm, interlocking it with her own. She turns her chin over her shoulder to look at me, beaming. “Are you ready to see how the Lahtuima celebrate?”
“Yes,” I say, grinning back. “I am.”
I mean it.