Chapter Ten #4
“Did you see that?” Ben laughed and shoved Catseye excitedly. “People were clapping. Dancing. To my music. By Dionus’s grace, I haven’t felt this alive since I was, well ... alive.”
“A flawless performance as usual.” Catseye clapped a hand onto Ben’s shoulder. “Linger here a moment, would you? I’ve got enough left from today’s excursions to fetch us a night at The Belltower Inn, and then it’s back to soul-crushing reality come dawn.”
As Catseye retrieved his scythe and carved a path toward the inn, Ben rounded on Helspira with enthusiasm. “So? What did you think?”
She poked a finger into his sternum, smirking. “I think it’s cruel that you waited this long to grace my ears with your gift.”
“Then, I am cruel. Thanks for not sharing my fatal flaw. I don’t doubt your dancing with Sikras lifted his spirit.”
Helspira coughed out a nervous laugh and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. If her pounding heart was any indication, his spirit wasn’t the only one lifted during that dance. “Right, well, we, um ... We should probably follow him and get to our room.”
Ben postured, slowly inclining his chin. “Why don’t I meet up with you two later?” he said, the upward inflection of his voice insinuating unspoken thoughts.
“You’re going to walk the town alone? At night?”
“I’m not alone.” Ben swung his lute around so it rested at his back. “I’ve got all these rats to keep me company. Besides, I’m dead. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Before she could argue, Ben saluted her and slipped into the waning crowd. Though fewer people livened the streets, the tall torches lit by the local lamplighters gave the scenery a peaceful glow rather than the ominousness one might expect from a darkening city.
All right, Helspira thought. Okay. Alone in a room with Catseye. No problem. Not an issue at all.
The swirling amalgamation of emotions in the pit of her stomach suggested otherwise, but she could ignore them.
At least, she thought she could.
Some feelings were becoming harder to ignore than others.
FROM THE BALCONY, HELSPIRA stared across the city, tiny lights peppering the dim market below. She leaned onto the railing, wondering if she could spy Ben somewhere amongst the candlelit streets.
Rustling behind her made her turn, and she found Catseye, blankets in one hand, a bottle of wine with a single glass in the other.
“I know you prefer the stars’ company, so I won’t try to convince you to sleep in the room, but”—he set down the blankets—“at least you don’t have to worry about any amethystle stabbing you in the back tonight. ”
Helspira said nothing, lost in the grace of his movements, as he popped the cork and poured the deep red liquid into the glass.
“Couldn’t end the day without you sampling one of Everferd’s wines.” He handed her the drink. “It’s the city’s most popular export.”
The smoky fruity notes hit her nostrils first, followed by the subtle scent of the fermentation process. She took a sip, savoring the flavor before swallowing. “I can’t help but notice you don’t have a glass.”
“Oh, I don’t drink.”
“Don’t care for the taste?”
“No, I love wine. That was my favorite.” He nodded to her glass. “But alcohol has a way of dulling one’s thoughts, reflexes, awareness, and ... Well, I really could’ve used all my wits the last time I drank. Maybe it would’ve saved a few lives.”
It didn’t take a scholar to recognize which night he referred to. “Whatever happened with Vessik that night, with Imri, and Ben, and you,” Helspira said softly, “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”
He produced another cheerless smile that would’ve been convincing if she hadn’t come to know him so well. “That’s sweet of you to say,” he said, facing the cityscape.
She joined him in quiet appreciation, taking another small sip. “Today was nice.”
“It was. A shame your first time here was in such poor company. What did you see in him, anyway? The eye thief?”
She nearly choked on the wine. In her reverie, Cecil had been the furthest topic from her mind.
Upon recovering from her coughing fit, Helspira shrugged, smiling.
“I don’t know. I think after fleeing all that hate in Chthonia, I was just a little too eager to find love, you know?
When Cecil looked me in the eyes, I thought I saw longing.
Turns out, all he longed for was my actual eye.
Still, he was the only one who could look at me without fear.
In hindsight, my standards may have been a bit low. ”
“I see. And how high are your standards now?”
Helspira laughed, holding a flat hand at chest level. “I don’t know. Maybe about here?”
Cupping his chin, Catseye appeared to contemplate something before hovering his hand over hers. “May I?”
She could almost feel the chill radiating from his palm. How did such cold skin cause her to flush with heat? “S—sure.”
With careful precision, he slid his hand beneath hers and raised it until neither of them could reach higher. “There,” he said, seemingly pleased with the new placement as his gaze drifted back to hers. “That’s better, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, lost in the green eyes that were inches from her own. “Yes. Definitely.”
He smiled, and the sting of his hand’s absence burned when he let her go. “Glad we got that settled. Well, it’s barely night, but this aging body is tired and far too excited to sleep in a real bed. You won’t feel unsafe if I leave the door unlocked for Ben?”
“Not at all.”
“Excellent. Goodnight, Helspira.”
As he bowed and headed for the door, she gripped her scarf. “Goodnight, Sikras.”
Her words halted him in an instant, and he sent a curious look over his shoulder. “I thought you preferred Catseye.”
“I know a lot of people are counting on the Cat’s Eye, but”—her fingers curled tighter around her scarf—“I’ve come to strongly prefer the company of Sikras.”
He said nothing. Only favored her with a slow, kind smile. Sikras gave a final nod of acknowledgment before vanishing into the room.
Oh, gods, gods, gods, what was she getting herself into? Helspira dragged her hands through her hair, turned away to grasp the wine bottle, and purged a long drink that she hoped would dull her senses.
Pfft. As if they weren’t dulled enough already. They must’ve been for her to have ended up in this mess. She sighed, pressed her back into the balcony wall, and slid to the floor.
It had always been easy to follow her heart. What in the world was a demon to do when circumstances ripped that heart in two entirely different directions?
The thunk of a bird landing on the balcony spared her from those thoughts for all of two seconds. Helspira gawked at the creature, black feathers mangled. It hopped closer to the door where Sikras had disappeared through, then surveyed her, head twisting, until it was almost upside down.
Weird little thing. Helspira wrinkled her nose. “I don’t suppose you have any advice for me?”
The bird let out a shrill caw and took flight, abandoning her to her problem.
Helspira tucked her knees toward her chest. “I figured.”
Two lives over thousands. She was no mathematician, but the right choice was glaringly obvious.
She would have to suck it up. No thinking, no emotions, just power through the discomfort. Just like she did in Chthonia. It had worked for her before, and it would work again.
Maybe if she said that enough times, she would start to believe it.