Chapter 7 #2
“I never knew mine. It was just me and my father… until he disappeared. He never spoke about her. Perhaps that’s why I became an archaeologist. That, and my father was one too. I was always looking for answers, but he never seemed willing to give me any.”
She realised she was rambling. What would he care?
His thumb traced the repair seam in the figurine.
“Then you understand why I keep them.”
He tilted his head. “Fathers often decide which truths we’re permitted to know.”
She flinched as he held the fragment out to her. She took it from him cautiously. Her fingers brushed his palm as she took it. His own curled into his palm and remained there.
Returning her attention to the stone fragment, she ran her thumb across the lines as the blue light glowed from within them.
“Is this… chrysonium? Lifesource?” she corrected herself.
He nodded.
Her head began to ache. She winced at the sharp pain that pierced her skull as if something inside her recoiled from the Lifesource. She returned the relic to the shelf.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Just a headache.”
“May I?” He gestured towards her head.
The question startled her. He had never asked permission before touching her.
She nodded cautiously, unsure of what he was about to do.
She held still as he placed his fingers on her temples.
The pain faded, and blood began to trickle from his nose as his brow tightened.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“I took back some of the pain I caused you.”
Without thinking, she lifted her sleeve and wiped the blood from beneath his nose. His breath caught so faintly she could have imagined it.
*
Sleep evaded her. The waves crashed against the fortress more violently than usual.
She left her room and went to the library. She’d read some pages of the tome and was beginning to understand their language, noting the similarities. The syllables no longer sounded entirely random. They stirred something dormant within her, as though she’d always known them.
She crept around the fortress. No one had forbidden it, but she was cautious of being alone, especially after the guard attack.
The hall before the library was still. She suddenly missed the bustle of the initiates back at the guild headquarters.
The door to the Viewpoint made her pause. The moon was full tonight. It would look beautiful from there.
She entered and crossed to the large windows framing the night sky. Most of the room lay beyond reach of the moonlight.
Moonlight shimmered across the waves, forming a path over the sea. She’d never seen the moon appear so close. She extended her fingers towards it; she could imagine touching it.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice from the shadows said.
She jumped. Casyl sat in the corner, his ankles crossed on the window ledge. He held a goblet in one hand, silver streaks shimmering through his glazed eyes in the moonlight.
“I’m sorry.” She stumbled over the words. No one was usually there so late. “I thought I was alone.”
“So did I.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll leave,” she said and made her way to the door.
He rose smoothly. “Stay,” he commanded. “I’ll get you a drink.”
She couldn’t refuse him, or perhaps she didn’t want to. He crossed the room and poured her a drink from the liquor shelf.
He handed her a goblet of red liquid. She inspected it, swirling the liquid around. Remembering her behaviour the last time she drank brought a flush to her cheeks.
“Wine?” she asked, and he nodded. “I hope it tastes as nice as that gold stuff.”
He raised an eyebrow. “When did you try that?”
“Ruven gave it to me,” she said.
He smiled at that. “Trust him to give you the strongest drink here. I think you’ll find the wine smoother.”
She raised the goblet to her lips and tasted the wine while he watched her with catlike intensity.
She returned to the window and the moonlit waves below.
Casyl stopped close behind her. The scent of cedar made every muscle in her body tense.
“I’ll miss this view,” he murmured.
She turned towards him. Moonlight caught the distant expression on his face. “What do you mean?”
“I leave to join the troops soon.” He turned fully towards her. His attention lingered on her mouth.
“And who’s going to keep me alive if you’re not around?” she teased.
His smile faded almost as soon as it appeared.
“Try not to die whilst I’m gone, Amelia,” he said solemnly. He turned and walked out of the room without a backward glance.
Amelia released her breath, unaware that she’d been holding it. That was the first time he’d used her name. She liked the way it sounded on his tongue.
Amelia returned to her room, forgetting about the library. She lay in bed thinking about her interaction with Casyl and secretly wishing he would knock.
*
The sun shone through the small window of her room, waking her gently.
She sat up in bed, thinking of last night.
Casyl had said her name, and it had caused something to stir within her.
The alcohol and the moonlight may have played a part.
One minute he was cold towards her, and the next he was saying her name like that, making her wish he’d walk into her room.
She dressed and rushed down to the main hall. She’d learned the hard way that fighting with no food made her sluggish, and she’d slept in.
The commotion reached her ears before she saw it. Guards hurried in and out of the hall. Ruven stood near the edge. She strolled over to join him. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“War preparations,” he replied between mouthfuls of food.
Men clapped one another on the back and joked as they polished armour or sharpened their swords. She hadn’t seen the hall so alive.
“Will you be going with them?” she asked.
“Not yet. I’m staying here to keep an eye on things. Tharos will go with Casyl and the army.”
“Danae?” she asked.
“She’s staying too.”
She felt the men’s eyes upon her. Their gazes made her shrink.
“I don’t want there to be a war over me,” she whispered. Men would die because of her, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Ruven turned to her, considering. “It’s not just over you. There’s more to it than that. Grab some breakfast and meet me outside,” he said, and strolled out of the hall.
She grabbed a goblet of water, some bread and an apple from the table and stood with her back to the wall, eating, watching the warriors as they prepared. Some laughed and joked, while others remained silent.
She shouldn’t be there; she was an outsider, watching from the edge. She’d often felt like that throughout her life.
She was preparing to leave when the mood abruptly changed. The king entered and took his seat on the dais, and Amelia retreated further into the shadows. She was about to flee the hall when the king rose. The room fell silent.
“Today is the beginning of us taking back what’s ours,” the king began solemnly.
He surveyed the warriors gathered before him.
“I promised you all long ago that I’d lead us home, back to the lives that we were supposed to have.
Now we have an opportunity. Do not squander it.
” He turned to the corner of the dais where Casyl now stood.
She hadn’t recognised him in his armour: black leather beneath an engraved silver breastplate.
He held a helmet at his side, fashioned with wings sweeping from the back and openings for the small antlers protruding from his head.
“Lead us to victory,” he ordered, and Casyl bowed solemnly as the men in the hall cheered.
Kings always believed they were living in important times. Archaeology had taught her that they all ended up as dust.