Chapter 14
"Cassiane?"
Oh, great. It appeared the gods had accepted my gratitude and immediately decided to humble me.
Still, I decided to test my luck. Perhaps I could pretend to be someone else.
Perhaps I could convince him he was disoriented from his injuries.
Perhaps temporary confusion was a real enough phenomenon for me to exploit.
Very slowly, I turned.
He was awake and watching me.
I had several questions, the first being how on earth he had regained consciousness so fast.
A minute ago, he had been in a peaceful slumber. Now his eyes were sharp, clear, and entirely too aware, fixed on me with an intensity that did not belong to someone who had been unconscious moments ago.
Then I felt something else.
His magic.
I could sense it in this timeline too. Great.
There was nothing visible or dramatic about it, but its presence was unmistakable.
It pressed against the space around him, controlled yet heavy, like something restrained rather than absent. Unlike my own magic, which had always felt chaotic and volatile, his felt refined, trained, and dangerous.
Unfortunately, that was not the only thing I noticed.
I looked at his face again and immediately found myself confronted with another problem.
Why did he look like that?
Why were his lips so distracting? And why had the painfully thin boy from four years ago turned into... this?
"Cassiane?"
He said my name again.
Right.
I had been staring at him for far too long.
I cleared my throat and gathered what little dignity I had left.
"Oh. Hello. You're awake. How are you feeling?"
He did not look away. In fact, he said nothing for several seconds and simply continued watching me with that same unreadable expression.
Still brooding, I noted. At least something had remained consistent.
After a while, he finally spoke.
"You are Cassiane, aren't you?" he asked quietly. "Do you remember me?"
This was where things usually went wrong.
If there was one thing I was consistently bad at, it was sustained lying. Basic lying, I could manage. But believable, well-structured deception that survived questioning required a level of composure I simply did not possess.
Naturally, I attempted it anyway.
"I think you have mistaken me for someone else," I said smoothly.
His gaze did not waver.
"No."
"You are Cassiane," he said. "I would never forget you."
"I have absolutely no idea who or what you are referring to."
He remained silent for a moment before speaking again.
"In the market," he said slowly, "there was a girl who saved me from a few bad men in an alley."
"That sounds heroic."
"She gave me a cream bun."
"How generous of her."
"She told me not to follow her."
"Wise girl."
"She wore a hood."
I sighed internally.
This man was annoyingly persistent.
"You seem very attached to this memory."
He tried to push himself up, wincing from the strain.
Without thinking, I approached him, placed a hand on his shoulder, and pushed him back onto the bed.
"Lie down, skinny boy. Your stitches will reopen. And please stop showing off heroics for five minutes."
Silence.
Complete, devastating silence.
Very slowly, Rhaevan looked up at me.
There was something deeply unfair about how calm he looked.
"You called me skinny boy, just like her," he said.
I recovered just enough to lift my chin.
"I called you skinny because you look weak right now. Please lie down. I just changed your bandages, and I am very particular about people ruining my work."
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"Admit it," he said softly. "You're Cassiane. Don't lie to me."
"Rhaevan, I will not ask you again-lie down."
He smiled.
Actually smiled. A big wide triumphant grin.
I frowned, confused why he suddenly started grinning like an idiot.
Wait.
I froze.
Every coherent thought in my brain came to a violent halt.
Shit, Cassiane.
You truly have the brain capacity of a pea.
"I never told you my name," he said.
...Right.
I closed my eyes.
Excellent.
Truly masterful work.
I had somehow survived my tragic fate only to be defeated by my own mouth.
After a long moment, I exhaled.
"Yes," I said flatly. "Fine. I remember you."
Something in his expression softened, becoming lighter, almost relieved.
Then he smiled again.
And there were dimples.
Actual dimples.
Why?
Why was that necessary?
Why was that allowed?
Focus, Cassiane.
This was still the same person who would one day betray you and drag you towards your death.
I exhaled and returned to adjusting his bandages, using the task as an excuse to create some distance.
"I went back," he said after a while.
"To where?"
"To the palace. To where I met you."
I paused.
"I never found you," he continued. "You were gone. I looked everywhere."
Something in my chest tightened.
Wow. Someone needed healthier hobbies.
"How did you end up here?" I asked, partly to redirect the conversation and partly because I genuinely needed to understand how this had somehow become my problem again.
"I was attacked," he said. "By a creature."
"Mm-hm," I replied. "And you didn't use your magic?"
There was a pause.
A very noticeable pause.
Then he looked at me carefully.
"How do you know I use magic?"
Ah, right. That. Brilliant work again, Cassiane.
I froze for half a second.
"Your robe," I said quickly. "You wear long robes, and... magic users wear long robes."
Oh god, I wish to evaporate.
He stared at me for a long moment, clearly trying to process that explanation.
Then, somehow, he nodded.
"Oh," he said slowly. "Yes. I am associated with the magic tower. That is why."
"...Of course," I said, nodding as if that explanation were perfectly valid and I had not just built an entire theory around fabric.
I stepped back and took a deep sigh.
"Listen, Rhaevan," I said, keeping my tone steady, "you can stay here until you recover. After that, you leave."
He watched me far too closely.
"And you do not tell anyone you found me here."
He was silent for a moment.
"Why?"
Simple. Direct. Dangerous.
I met his gaze briefly before looking away.
"Because this is my safe place," I said quietly. "And I do not plan on going back."
For a brief moment, the words did not sound like deflection.
They sounded like the truth.
Which meant this situation had already gone much further off track than I intended.