Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
LYRA
The moonlight is my only friend on the shadowy path paved in silver light and stone, punctuated by the silhouettes of hanging leaves and flowers. It guides me forward, beckoning.
After the chaos settled from the temporary slips of madness, Casimir excused himself, and I stayed to help Neilina check on all those who fell prey to their curse of corruption.
They were all fine, save for the rattling of their minds and for a scrape here and there, but the celebration no longer felt so celebratory.
Therefore, the staggering bonfire was quenched, and the people scattered.
Many went to taverns. Some went to their beds.
Others went to find peace in the sanctuary of secluded gardens.
I am amongst such a group.
My mind is still racing from what I saw tonight, witnessing the version of the Abdites I am most familiar with, yet feeling as though they couldn’t possibly be the same as those I’ve encountered in the past. I understand them now—what composes them, haunts them, and plagues their identities.
And it’s as if that knowledge allowed me to see their madness as something entirely different.
It no longer frightened me—not in the slightest. Not when I knew the face behind the mask.
Why had nobody taken the time to attempt to cure and rehabilitate Abdites before?
Don’t get me wrong, I am more than certain there truly are just vile wielders corrupting their magic for all the wrong reasons.
But what about the others? I now know the descendants of the original Abdites are all cursed to be born with the corruption already in their veins—a fact of which has been either lost to Solaya through the ages or blatantly ignored—yet we condemned them all the same.
Who else have we gotten wrong? Who else was hardly more than a victim of cruel circumstance?
Gods, I hated it when people summed up my worth and made judgements about me only by looking at my position with King Alastair and my lack of titles, as if that is all I am and all I could ever be. Yet that is exactly what I did to them.
I want to kick myself for it.
My wandering feet lead me around a corner and to a large basin of glittering water, overflowing from a tiered marble pool cut in a perfect square.
It is nestled away in its own crook of the land, surrounded by flowers, vines, and trees.
Under the glow of the moon and its accompanying stars, it makes the space look otherworldly.
Like it belongs in the Mother Goddess’s realm.
Perhaps it was modeled after the Hanging Gardens, given the design of it.
My eyes snag on something beautiful at the center of it all.
Not a flower. Not a tree or some impeccable sculpture.
But Casimir, shirtless and glistening from the water dripping down his exposed back, the water rising up just past his hips.
He cups his palms and fills them with water, splashing the substance against his cheeks and running it over his already glossy hair, pushing the strands away from his face.
His fingers continue their path, gliding down his head to the back of his neck where they lock into place.
His eyes remain closed, and he stands there, seemingly frozen.
His pallid skin looks like the surface of the moon, slightly grey, slightly silver; beautiful nonetheless, regardless of the color the beholder decides it to be.
As I gaze at him—my mouth strangely dry and my heartbeat oddly erratic—I can’t help but feel like he looks like a fallen angel.
From my angle, he is sideways, allowing me to see his back and the entirety of his right arm.
It also allows me to see his wielder’s mark for the first time.
Winding black lines make a square, where they curve into ornate framing around four magic symbols: fire, ice, shadow, and light.
At the very center of his spine rests a large hand with a ball of light glowing from the palm—the mark of a healer.
Surrounding the hand are more symbols, some I recognize, others I don’t.
His mark boasts far more magic types than my own, and all of them glow.
My symbols only do so when I wield the respective magic, but on Casimir, each one maintains a soft brilliance, a subtle glittering quality filling the light.
Gods, only one word keeps entering my mind—
Beautiful.
What is wrong with me?
From somewhere down the path, there is a loud rustling noise followed by murmurs as people head off down the eastern veer of the trail. Casimir’s eyes snap open. And then they land directly on me, the amber filling them seeming to glow in the dark.
“What are you doing here?”
I shrug. “I couldn’t sleep, so I’ve just been walking.”
He lifts a dark brow. “And you decided to come here?”
My nose scrunches, and I make a show of looking around. “Where is ‘here,’ exactly?”
He shifts in the water, folding his arms and squaring his shoulders to me.
“This is my personal bathing pool. The area is actually protected by magic to keep it invisible to wandering eyes and to not let anyone besides myself enter past a certain point.” He huffs a laugh, dropping his head and shaking it.
“Though I suppose it is attuned to recognize my magic. Seeing as you and I share the same magic…” He trails off, a hint of genuine amusement seeming to rise in his eyes.
I, however, feel mortified.
“So I–uh, just interrupted your bath, basically?”
“For all intents and purposes, yes.”
A violent heat floods my cheeks. I am at such a loss for what to do, I nearly slap my hand over my eyes. “Oh, gods, Cas... I am—am so sorry. I was just walking around and—and—”
He lifts a hand for me to be silent, and I am more than happy to oblige, pressing my lips into a thin line. “You called me Cas.”
My cheeks grow even hotter, and I manage a jerky shrug. “Casimir feels like such a formal name sometimes. I like Cas.”
His answering smile is soft. It is also so genuine, it makes my stomach clench. “My friends used to call me Cas. I haven’t been called that in centuries.”
I arch a brow. “You realize you just admitted to being friendless for centuries, right?”
“At this point, is such a fact really secret?”
“No,” I agree. “I guess it isn’t.”
He laughs. “Turn around for a second, would you?”
“Why?” I ask, my eyes narrowing on him.
“Just do it.” When I don’t, he adds, “Please.”
“Fine.”
I put my back to him, and I hear the water sloshing as he moves around. Only a handful of seconds pass, with more splashing and sloshing noises filling the crisp air, and then Casimir says, “You can look now.”
When I face him once more, confusion pinches my features together. He doesn’t look any different. Nothing appears moved. He is even standing in the same spot as before. “What did you just do?”
“Put on undergarments so you can dip your feet in the water. It is warmed by magic. Here—” He points in the direction of one of the small marble lips outlining the pool. “You can sit there, if you’d like.”
I study him. Truthfully, soaking my feet in warm water after the night’s events sounds divine, but why is he offering his personal bathing pool for me to do so? “Is this a trick?”
“Not at all,” he answers, holding up a hand as if he were taking an oath. “Since you’re here, I thought it might be nice for us to just…talk. Like friends would.”
I laugh softly. “I call you Cas one time, and suddenly you think we’re friends.
” I walk over to where he pointed, stripping my feet bare and plunging them beneath the water’s surface.
I nearly moan at how perfect the water feels against my skin.
The sensation has to be an effect of the magic. “Soo,” I drawl, “how’d it feel?”
When I finally glance up from the pool, I find Casimir’s eyes intently locked on me. “How’d what feel?”
“To be called Cas again.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Warm. Like remembering a pleasant memory.”
“All good things,” I say through a laugh.
“I’d say so.” He glides the tips of his fingers over the clear surface, looking thoughtful.
“I am going to be leaving at first light tomorrow. There are some items I need to acquire to help ensure the safety of my family. Though I am traveling far, I shouldn’t be gone long.
I’ll probably return before tomorrow’s sunset.
Perhaps you’d like to eat dinner together when I do? ”
There is a shyness to the question that is almost…endearing. A word I never thought I would use when describing Casimir Vivaldri.
I lean forward, bracing my forearms on my thighs. “What are you offering?”
His smile deepens. “What do you want?”
I tap a finger to my mouth, feigning consideration. “Cake.”
“Cake?” he asks, chuckling. “That’s it?”
“I guess you could add some meat and pickled cucumbers. But mostly, I want cake. And wine. Oh wait, no—ale. From the tavern Ophelia plays at.”
“You know their names now.”
I flash him a proud grin. “Every last one of them.”
“Impressive.”
I twirl my hand and mock a bow, making Casimir laugh. It’s a nice sound, his laugh.
A passing silence fills the space between us, and I kick my feet beneath the water. “Cas?” I ask eventually.
His eyes are gleaming. “Yes?”
“Before the Mother Goddess gifted you the abilities of a Binder, what was your magic?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Given my history, it will make you laugh from shock. Or make you loathe me further. Truthfully, I’m not sure which is the greater possibility.”
“Only one way to find out.”
His eyes hold me captive for a heartbeat. Until they look away from me and up to the moon. “I was a healer.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“I know,” he says through a sigh.
I consider the information. “Is that how I was able to be healed? Because of you?”