3. Astraea
Chapter three
Astraea
“What do you mean you can’t cook?” Maisy asks incredulously, her face twisted up almost comically with her disbelief.
I roll my lips in to hide the smile threatening to spread across my face as I watch her struggle to pour flour into a bowl—much larger than she should need to prepare an early breakfast for just two people.
She wipes the side of her face with her wrist, streaking it with the white powder, and I can’t help but crack a little.
“I haven’t had much reason to learn. Maybe you could teach me?” I laugh as I reach quickly for the wooden spoon she’s about to drop. Her confusion turns to elation as she mirrors my smile.
“Well, technically, I’m still learning too, but I have mastered my favorite.
” She beams. “Blueberry breakfast cakes with honey drizzle.” She announces proudly, gesturing to the now lumpy mix in the bowl and the mess all over the table.
She purses her lips, her eyebrows scrunching just as much and smudging the powder further with another wipe to her chin.
“They will taste better than they look so far. Promise. You have to trust the process.”
“Then I guess I’m in good hands.” I grin, even if the word ‘trust’ induces an almost physical sort of pain after feeling as though maybe I’ve trusted too easily.
The pang of hurt is not easily ignored. Even so, I swallow the feeling away and push the bowl that’s dangerously close to toppling to the floor away from the edge of the table with a sigh.
Clearly our definition of mastery is a little different.
Regardless of my bitterness to the world right now, I can’t help but feel a sense of contentment as she begins teaching me every step she takes to create this favorite of hers.
It’s a welcomed distraction from the constant battle that has been in my head as of late. Even if it’s a fleeting moment.
It’s not long before the layered scent of warmed blueberries and sweet toasted flour fills the kitchen.
Maisy’s tongue pokes from the corner of her mouth as she plates the food and drizzles the sticky honey all over the fluffy cake.
And to my surprise, it actually does look as good as it smells, even though the kitchen looks far worse for wear.
She slides the plate in front of me, rocking back on her heels with a wide smile and gesturing to the fork she's laid next to it. She watches intently as I cut a wedge and place it in my mouth, waiting for my reaction. Which, thank the divine, is genuine.
“OH! Oh, wow. I can see why this is your favorite!” I say around another mouthful. She radiates pride, lifting her chin and smiling with all of her gappy teeth, as she finally sits on the opposite side of the narrow table and takes a large bite of her own.
“I told you.” Her grin softens. “One day, I will learn to master all kinds of things in the kitchen. Cooking is one of my favorite things, though sometimes… it does get me into trouble.” She looks around at the mess we made with worry crinkling her brow.
I hate watching the light in her eyes dim as she realizes just how much of a mess we’ve made.
“I’ll help you clean up. Cleaning up messes is one thing I did have to learn to do.
” I lean in over the table, playfully plopping the last bite of my breakfast into my mouth.
“Because I was really good at making them.” She tries to hide a smile as her cheeks deepen in color, and I nudge her with my foot under the table before I smile and begin collecting dishes.
For such a small girl, Maisy has a huge personality. She talks about anything and everything as we clean the ransacked kitchen. By the time we finish, I am truly exhausted. Both from traveling here and likely the sugar-loaded breakfast. I cover a yawn as we finally finish cleaning up.
“Oh, sorry. Ms. Kensa said that you would be tired. I’ll take you to the pink room to rest.” Maisy grabs my hand, wrapping her small fingers around mine, and pulls me through the doorway and out into the narrow halls.
The worn wood floors creak as we walk along them, and I can’t help but slow as I take the place in.
The first noticeable thing is the darkness.
Only ambient light from flickering flames from within rooms that have open doors lights our walk.
Every window I’ve seen has been covered with thick drapes.
I guess that makes sense in a stacked city to keep prying eyes out during the night.
It makes me wonder what this place is like during the day.
Just before we reach a stairway, I hear a deep murmur of voices spill into the hall.
Kyros’ voice I recognize right away, and after a moment, I realize the second is Shayd’s.
They fall silent for a moment, and Maisy tugs on my hand a little firmly to lead me up to the second floor, and reluctantly, I give up the possibility of hearing what they are talking about and follow her.
Maisy pushes through a door at the end of the hallway.
The moment she strikes a match and lights the narrow candle on the bedside table, I see why they call it ‘the pink room.’ Everything…
down to the walls has a touch of pink on them.
Anything and everything made of fabric is some hue of pink.
While I am usually not against the color as a whole, this is—a bit much.
“Well, this is it. I should probably go and let you get rest, as Ms. Kensa said. There is water in the basin to wash up.” She points in the direction of a counter built into the wall on the far side of the room.
I press my lips into a forced smile, trying to refrain from sighing in disappointment as I look at the small bowl of room-temperature water.
I was really hoping for a proper bath. “And there’s a glass and pitcher on the bedside table if you get thirsty.
I always get thirsty at night.” She shrugs before continuing, not waiting for a response from me.
“There is no hearth in this room, but the upstairs stays pretty warm regardless, especially this time of year. Oh! But there are extra blankets in the cabinet if you need them.” She whirls on her heel, pointing at the furniture along the wall that houses linens.
“Thank you, Maisy. For everything.” I smile and hope that it’s warm, but I can feel the positive energy she passed me already waning.
She doesn’t respond with words for once, just smiles close-lipped and backs out of the room, letting the door click shut between us.
The moment she disappears, the smile melts from my face, and my eyes close as I sit on the edge of the pink bed and allow myself to fall to my back.
Divine, I hope you are safe, Cole.
Darkness eclipses the sun, but it doesn’t take away the heat.
It sears the fragile lining of my lungs with every breath I take.
The scent of charred wood engulfs me, but my body is motionless.
Not in the sense of lingering in one place, but in a way that feels like a shift in time itself.
A feeling of being in-between, and it’s the first sign telling me something is off.
A heavy weight sits on my chest as I come to realize this is a situation created in my mind. The thick air is pushed and pulled from my body on ragged breaths before my dream allows me to see beyond the dark abyss.
Dreams and nightmares have been a constant in my life, but I’ve always been afraid to look too closely at what they may have been carrying.
Pieces of me that I hide away from even myself.
The truth of every weakness I know I possess.
Every failure, past, present, and future is there to taunt me. Maybe it’s time that I pay attention.
As the haze begins to lift, shadows recede but never fully clear.
They dance along my skin like smoke. Confusion coddles my mind in its embrace when a realization dawns on me.
Something isn’t right. I’m not at all outside like usual when I come to these deep recesses of my head.
The room I’m in gives a strange sense of familiarity, but I don’t recall the details.
Somewhere I just can’t quite place, like a distant memory.
A fire crackles and a charred log falls, causing a spray of embers to dance in the corner of my vision.
I turn my attention toward the dwindling fire and hold my breath as my gaze snags on the figure standing before the dancing flames.
Unmistakably male, his broad shoulders flex beneath his tunic as he reaches out on the mantel, hand curling into a fist beside a portrait I am too far away to make out.
As though sensing my gaze, the figure slowly turns his head to peer over his shoulder.
His face is still distorted, and like an apparition, he moves like smoke through the room toward me.
His footfalls are as quiet as a desert breeze over the sand at the tops of the dunes.
Each step brings him closer, only to stop just before where I lie frozen.
The breath I’ve held comes out choppy and shallow as the man crouches lower, easing his shadowed hand out and brushing one cool finger along the side of my face.
The feel of it sends chills to pebble along my skin, and the very air around me shudders as I lie paralyzed in this half-aware state.
Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, and the longer I stare, the more intensely I peer into the darkness, and the more the edges of the dream blur.
His lips part, saying something, and my brows furrow as I try to decipher what it is.
His voice is a caress, and my skin pebbles in response to the warmth of his breath as it skates across the surface.
Then he blinks, and the darkness of those eyes clears in an instant.
Blue eyes flash like lightning in the night sky.
And just as quickly, I gasp, wrenching upright in the room doused in pink I had fallen asleep in.
Sweat beads along my forehead. My hair sticks to the back of my neck, and I squeeze my eyes shut to dispel the uneasy feeling still holding me hostage.
My stomach roils, sending a surge of moisture to my mouth.
With shaky hands, I manage to pour some water into the glass that Maisy left on the bedside table and drink it down greedily.
Peeking through the heavy drapes, I see the moon still hanging high behind the churning clouds.
Illuminating the stacked dwellings in the eerie silence.
Even so, there is still movement out in the Diemos streets.
Braziers lit throughout the city show huddled figures around them, keeping the summer night chill from seeping into their bones when the sun has left them with only the cold moon.
I couldn’t have been asleep long.
Resting my hand over my heart, I feel the wild thrum in my chest and the steadily growing ache pounding at my temple.
Even though I know I need sleep, I know there will be none of that happening with this feeling of panic rushing through my veins.
I need some fresh air. I turn around too quickly, my vision tilting with the pain in my head.
I try to catch myself before I fall. My hand reaches out for the bedside table, almost missing it entirely.
The glass wobbles before it crashes to the floor in a mess of shattered glass and water.
My hand flies over my mouth to contain my screech from the surprise of it. Divine, what is wrong with me?
“Astraea?” I nearly jump out of my skin as Maisy peeks her head into the room through the cracked door.
“Great Divine, Maisy!” I rush out, wiping a hand down my face. Failing to hide my anxiousness.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I heard a crash.” She looks down at the shattered glass and pooling water. “Did something happen?”
“I just—I just need some air.” Just saying that much makes me realize just how badly it’s needed.
Moving back to the window, I throw open the curtains.
My fingers flail around the edges of the glass panels, searching for the clasp on the wood frame, but come up short when I notice this window doesn’t open.
My throat feels constricted as if my panic is closing it.
Swallowing is hard, and breathing is becoming even harder.
“Sometimes when I have bad dreams, I like to go out to the stables and visit with the horses…” Maisy says shyly. “I—could take you.” She cracks her small knuckles, and I nod desperately. I need to get out of this room more than anything else.
We leave the mess in the room, and Maisy guides me through the dark hall and back down the stairs.
I don’t hear Kyros and Shayd this time. Since Kyros has not come looking for me, I suspect they are still talking or planning what to do next.
With me most likely. I push that thought down with a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to force my mind to calm.
It's futile, given the way my skin seems to crawl after that dream.
Maisy stops before a door and winces at the squealing hinge when she opens it.
“The stable is just on the other side of the pathway there.” She points across a breezeway in the small yard. “There is an awning over the double barn doors. They usually keep the doors open, but the horses always like company. I can come wi—”
“Thank you, Maisy. I really just want to walk alone and get some fresh air.” Sadness falls over her face, and the pain in my head drops into my chest at the sight of it because I know the disappointment all too well. I never thought I might be the one who would deliver it.