Chapter 74 Taera
Taera
Iwake to a moment of blissful confusion, alone in a small bed, before the memory of last night hits like a sledgehammer.
Nikolai isn’t here with me. He doesn’t want me.
Or at the very least, won’t let me in. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could disappear into the mattress and never have to face his mother, his sister, and the magician himself. I want to cry.
I make myself get up. It takes me several minutes to open the door.
The anticipation is worse than the actual thing. When I step into the kitchen, Nikolai is preparing breakfast and shoots me a tight smile. Across the table, Margaret helps Hazel slather the cake in thick buttercream frosting. Hazel’s humming under her breath. I stand there, aching.
The morning passes uncomfortably, despite the sweet melancholy of the familiar cake.
I mumble and smile my way through small talk, unaware of what I’m saying.
I barely taste the cake. Before I know it, I’m being squeezed with goodbye hugs, and Hazel presses a wrapped, slightly-squished bundle into my hands.
Pepperspice cake for my family. I swallow a painful lump at the sweet gesture.
When Nikolai beckons me into the carriage, I don’t meet his eyes. My body is tired; my heart even more so. I haven’t quite resigned myself to this being how it ends between us. I’m too confused to know if I should be miserable or relieved.
I look out at his family home rolling away. The sight stings, but it keeps me from looking at him. I lean uncomfortably against the wall, drifting in and out of rocky sleep. My head isn’t in his lap, and the space between us feels colder than the desert night.
Hours skim by, stretching into a day and a night, and the carriage rumbles along the edge of the desert. I watch the sun drift over the dunes, giving myself over completely to the familiar ache. I half expect to see the outline of the spectacular Halls of Glass, but there’s only sand.
Neither Nikolai nor I speak. The silence is heavy, but talking would be even worse.
There’s not much to say, since nothing has changed.
I want to be close to him, to truly see him, but he won’t let me.
What’s worse is it isn’t even personal; I can’t imagine Nikolai letting anyone see beneath his illusions.
We’re at an impasse until he changes his mind or I decide I can live with his falsehoods.
“We’re getting close,” he says at last.
The sun hangs a hand-span above the horizon, and the road takes a sharp right. In a sudden, twisting moment of vertigo, I recognize the trees, and then the huts on the outskirts of the village. Everything is smaller than I remember.
I feel… nothing. I’m supposed to be overflowing with joy, but there’s only miserable acceptance.
Soon this will all be over, and then, perhaps I’ll cry.
For now, I’m empty. My eyes flit to Nikolai, finding his expression hardened and carefully neutral.
I would give anything to know what he’s truly thinking.
We roll up to my hut: wind-beaten grayed wood slapped with peeling mud. I swallow the disappointment, the embarrassment of Nikolai seeing this. I’ve grown comfortable—accustomed, even—to the luxuries of the Halls, while Gramps and Ez have been here. On their own.
The door to the carriage swings open by itself. I exchange the briefest glance with Nikolai. He motions me out first. I stand.
I haven’t even fully descended when the hut door flies open, and Gramps hobbles out. His limp makes me wince.
“Taera? Are you really here?” His voice wobbles.